Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko:Volume8 Chapter1

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Chapter 1 – Are You Telling Me To Remove My Futon?

Current Total Youth Points: ±0 (Carried over from previous session)

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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, me, 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?

Hi, this was Niwa Makoto.

The development made me want to fold up the story right from the very beginning. What even was this?

Was this a new assassin descended from the pointed remark of a god (or an alien) sending someone else, realising that the “Denpa Onna” was already irrelevant? Or was it perhaps that, through the mercy of a greater being, a single piece of my useless delusion had been reproduced in reality? If it were the latter, I would shout it from the rooftops.

There were surely better things that should have been reproduced!

Like Mae-tan, for example. Or Ryuuko, for instance.

… Well. Hello, I’m Niwa Makoto. I wondered, would such a greeting even work on someone like this?

The current year was fairly ok. There was still no sign that aliens intended to make a formal visit to Earth.

It was a day wrapped in the pleasant warmth of October, and I was at a candy shop that had absolutely no connection to N○SA.

Little Smakin had descended upon us.

“Mofufu.”

She leaned back, projecting an air of sharp confidence… Though she was stretching herself so much, her legs were trembling.

Her height seemed to be around the average for a fourth or fifth grader. She was about the size of the great-grandchild from my delusions.

However, even I knew how to distinguish between delusion and reality. This was not my great-grandchild.

So, what was her true identity? 1. A new character. 2. A version of my delusion that had travelled from the future. 3. Meme-san, who had undergone a long-awaited rejuvenation after being forced to take drugs by a mysterious organisation. I rejected the third option, as that plotline felt like it would lead to a murder case.

“Do children like this come here often?”

I tried asking Erio, who was busy tending the shop at the Tamura store. Erio shook her head from side to side.

“I don’t know, mofu.”

“You haven’t even wrapped yourself in a futon yet.”

As the original Smakin, perhaps a sense of rivalry had already begun to stir. What a fruitless competitive spirit. It felt rare to find a relationship within a competitive drive that failed so much to inspire any sense of improvement.

“Mofufu.”

Ignoring my confusion, Little Smakin moved. Both her arms thrust out abruptly from beneath the futon. It was as if a soft-bodied creature in the sea had extended its tentacles to seize prey. In those hands was a rectangular sheet of drawing paper, inscribed with a message in rounded lettering.

“Try tossing some paper and a pen inside!”

“Huh? Inside the futon?”

“Mofufu.”

As if to say, “That’s right,” Little Smakin wiggled and contorted vertically. It was full of energy and deeply gross. To begin with, did I even have any need to communicate with this creature, who was wrapped in a futon from the waist up and whose origins were entirely unknown? As I watched, nothing but a bad feeling crossed my mind. It reminded me of what happened in April.

When I glanced sideways at the original Smakin, who was essentially the source of the trouble, “Wah” had turned into Smakin. She seemed to have somehow procured a futon in the meantime, and Smakin, sitting in seiza position, was saying “Mofu”.

“You’re certainly quick to act only in times like these.”

“Mofumofu.”

She puffed out her chest as if to say, “Leave it to me.” Well, it was more her futon than her chest, though. With this, two Smakins existed within the Tamura store, facing one another. Little Smakin remained in the same posture, holding up the sheet of drawing paper. Its two feet (also bare) padded against the ground, almost as if it were prompting me.

“…Fine, I guess I’ll try it.”

I pushed myself up and headed toward the back of the shop. I grabbed the stack of old university notebooks that Erio used as her shop log, though they were mostly just her personal diary, and picked out an unused one. After tearing out a few blank pages, I found a random pen rolling around at the back of a shelf and returned to the shopfront. Wah, Smakin was still alive and well.

I wondered if I could resolve this by deciding it was all just part of my delusion, but perhaps that was impossible.

“Mofu-mofu?”

“Mofufuffu.”

“Mofuufufuu.”

“Mofufu, mofuffu (with a serious look).”

“Mofu (with a sharp, determined look).”

“…Can you even communicate like that?”

I asked the two Smakins, who appeared to be spending the most fruitless moments on Earth. For what it was worth, Tamura-san, who was in the same space, was gnawing on some dried squid from the shop while staring at the Smakins with a grim expression.

Every so often, a mouth that had grown bored of softening dried squid with saliva would move sluggishly as I uttered:

“The idiots are multiplying.”

“Mofuffuffuuu.”

Erio turned around and reported something. Of course, it was impossible to understand what she was saying.

Ignoring that for the time being, I approached Little Smakin, who was still holding the paper aloft.

“Should I just put it in from the top?”

“Mofufu.”

I tried plunging my hand into the centre of the spiral formed by the rolled-up futon. Something squirmed inside with a wriggling sensation, and the feeling sent goosebumps crawling up my skin. The paper and pen were snatched from my fingertips as if being preyed upon, and I pulled my hand back immediately. When I checked my withdrawn fingertips, I felt as though something like glowing particles had adhered to them. To begin with, it was never certain whether the light particles I saw on a regular basis were even real. Nevertheless, I was shaken by the fact that I could experience such an illusion just by touching the depths of the futon.

What on earth was inside this futon?

While I stood there faltering, a frantic, rapid-fire scratching sound ja-ja-ja-ja echoed from within Little Smakin, who had pulled both arms back. It sounded like a pen racing across paper at high speed. Oh, so this version of Smakin could read and write too? Could it be that this was a next-generation Smakin, evolved to be even more compact and higher-performing?

So, even our local youkai were having a hard time in the struggle for survival, huh? I see. I tried to force myself to accept it. I wondered if it was even possible.

Before long, the ja-ja-ja-ja inside ducked back down, and then, both arms thrust out from the top of Little Smakin with a sudden burst. Held high, like a hitchhiker signalling for a ride, was a message containing the following text:

“I am what you would call an alien. You may refer to me as an inhabitant of planet Futon.”

“…This type again?”

Based on its appearance, I had already braced myself for the second coming of Smakin. But an inhabitant of planet Futon? A bitter smile escaped me at such a simplistic name. Since she was clearly aware of her own state, there was a certain level of honesty to it.

As a new alien showed up, the third to appear, more or less, Erio was the only one unable to grasp the situation, getting herself excited as she hummed “Mofuffufu”. She really hadn’t understood a single thing about that mofu-mofu summit, after all. As expected of Smakin, a person who stood at the complete opposite pole of working for the good of the world and its people.

“Hey, Makoto.”

Tamura-san, who had been refraining from speaking, beckoned me over. The dried squid was gone, implying she had finished eating it.

“Yes, what is it?”

As I approached her while still crouching, she reached out a wrinkled hand. Without much thought, I took it.

“I’m tired. Take me to the back to rest.”

“…Alright.”

I helped Tamura-san toward the back room, supporting her by the shoulder. Erio was currently wrapped up in her futon, so she wasn’t available. After lying down on the remaining futon, Tamura-san spoke.

“Makoto.”

“Yes?”

“I’ll let you deal with the situation.”

Ah, she had just dumped it all on me. She rolled over and turned her back to me. I wanted to run away myself.

“Make sure you handle things before I wake up.”

She even added a time limit. I was really not good at dealing with people like that.

Actually, the real question was where I could find someone who was good at it.

“Oh, and by the way, your hand looks like Shouji’s. Don’t worry, it wasn’t a compliment.”

“Hah…”

Like my father, huh.

I headed back toward the shopfront, staring intently at my right hand, the one she had said resembled my father’s.

“Mofumofuuu!”

“Mofufuuu!”

The original Smakin and the Little Smakin were running in circles around the candy shop. I quietly averted my eyes from the sight of the large and small Smakins scurrying busily around the store. Or rather, I turned around.

“Excuse me, do you have another futon available?”

I asked Tamura-san in the back. I wanted to pull a futon over my own head and pretend I hadn’t seen anything.

“*Snore*!”

A truly blatant snoring sound was the only response. It felt like a half-hearted, incredibly dismissive way of telling me to, well, good luck. I decided to stop trying to turn away and instead faced the Smakins. The Smakins ran about, kicking up dust and scattering their individual particles as they went. I found myself impressed by how they managed to run around without constantly tripping over themselves, but why exactly were they running?

Upon closer observation, it looked as though Erio was being chased by Little Smakin. Was Big Smakin losing? Perhaps because she was an older model? Or perhaps because she had been away from her Smakin life for so long that there was a gap in their abilities. Either way, being on the losing side felt more like something Smakin would do.

“Hey, hey, now. Don’t bully my little one so much…”

While attempting to admonish her, I tried to grab Little Smakin to stop her. However, as if sensing my intent, Little Smakin suddenly changed her course and immediately kicked off the ground. She moved with a sudden, high-speed burst, maintaining a certain distance from me. Even though her vision must have been pitch black while wrapped in that futon, her movements showed that she knew exactly where everything was located.

“Ho-ho.”

Little Smakin was quite high-performance. Her appearance was a bit of a letdown, but otherwise, there seemed to be no major issues. Since the futon she was wrapped in was so large that not even her hair was visible, let alone her face, her gender remained somewhat uncertain.

On the other hand, Erio, also known as Big Smakin, was still running around. I decided to leave her alone for a moment. She spun. Around and around she went. She spun faster and faster. It seemed she only realised what was happening halfway through her fourth lap, letting out a confused, “Mofu?” She came to a halt, looked back, and swayed her body erratically. She came to a halt, looked back, and swayed her body erratically. When I reached out, she didn’t run away, and I was able to easily grab the futon. The only thing Erio was capable of doing was eating pizza in a bizarre manner… Was there anything else? Actually, was that even something worth counting as an ability? It was nothing more than eccentricity.

“Mo, mofu…”

Perhaps sensing my gaze, Big Smakin showed signs of agitation. She took a slight, stumbling step backward. The bags of snacks lined up on the shelf brushed against her back, making a rustling sound.

“Show your face.”

I tried giving an order. Only Erio obeyed obediently, poking her face out toward the front. Little Smakin, however, sent a message back, accompanied by that frantic, repetitive ja-ja-ja-ja: “There are reasons why I cannot show you.” It seemed that, perhaps more so than Big Smakin, her case of Alien Disease was severe.

“U-Ugh. You’re so cheeky for a newcomer.”

Erio bristled at Little Smakin. Yet, perhaps due to the sense of defeat as a Smakin, she seemed to be cowering. As Little Smakin threatened (?) her with a “Mofufu”, Erio scurried away on tiptoe to hide behind my back. I wondered whether a mere futon gave enough protection. Meme-tan’s overprotectiveness was becoming a problem.

“A-Aniki! This one is totally looking down on us!”

“Hey, lackey, don’t drag me into being looked down upon…”

And, as it turned out, there were quite valid reasons for being looked down upon.

Little Smakin > Big Smakin, an unshakeable hierarchy like that.

“Apparently, this one is a Futonian.”

I added, without saying it directly, that they were an old companion of yours. Erio stared at Little Smakin with a vacant, expressionless gaze, then looked back at me as if she had reached some sudden realisation. Her light blue eyes were clear, like the azure sky.

“Cousin.”

“What is it?”

“This one’s an airhead.”

“Look who’s talking.”

I pinched Erio’s cheek and pulled it. Since when did you adopt the principle of not looking back at the past (unless it was convenient for you)? I kneaded her cheeks as punishment. Erio’s face deformed in a hilarious way, yet she managed to defend the line of being a beautiful girl in every single instance. She was the type of person who might get disliked by women of the same age.

“Muiii…”

“So, where is your home, dear?”

While still pulling Erio’s cheeks left and right, I asked Little Smakin gently. Ja-ja-ja-ja.

“Ha ha ha, oh stop it. I’m an alien, so there’s no way I’d have a house on Earth.”

“Ha ha ha, there you go again.”

“Ha ha ha.”

She had written nothing but laughter in massive capital letters across the entire paper. Man, for someone so high-performance, she was certainly skilled at grating on one’s nerves. And then, immediately after, there came a ja-ja-ja-ja.

“Out of paper. Please refill.”

What are you, a photocopier? And don’t even get me started about you not using the back of the page.

I slumped my shoulders in exasperation. Then, perhaps having regained her fighting spirit, Smakin, who had pulled her face away from the futon after escaping the hand that was pinching her cheeks, moved away from my back to face Little Smakin once again.

“Mooofuuufuuu.”

“Mofufuuufuuu.”

“Mofufufuuufuuufuuufuffufu.”

Far from being in opposition, the two of them were standing side by side, sounding like a round. It looked as though a big Smakin and a little Smakin were lined up together. Though the big one wasn’t quite as adorable-looking as the little one.

Basically, Smakin was just a human bundle, after all.

“It’s what Tamura-san ordered, so I have to do something about this. Hey, you two, I’m stripping your futons off.”

I reached out. Little Smakin dodged me with ease. I tried to chase and grab her as she pulled her body away, but she evaded me with pinpoint accuracy, as if she were watching my every move. There was no way she could have seen it. As she kept dancing out of reach as if mocking me, my frustration began to mount. When I reached toward Big Smakin to vent my stress, I managed to grab her quite easily. Ah, how pathetic.

The moment an impulse to scream, “I’m done with this crap!” took hold of me.

“I’ve heard enough!”

No matter how you looked at it, it was a pseudo-spacesuit; no matter how you looked at it, it was Hoshimiya Yashiro.

Someone burst through the door of the candy shop with a loud, clattering bang.

She shouted with a booming voice, as if she were screaming on my behalf.

“…Ah, another person who refuses to listen has arrived.”

I lamented the rounded shape of that head. No matter how you looked at it, it was a pseudo-spacesuit; no matter how you looked at it, it was Hoshimiya Yashiro.

It was the appearance of someone who popped up unexpectedly and completely failed to read the room.

I wondered if she had arrived after catching the scent of outer space that permeated the shop.

With her same old clumsy, slapping footsteps, she stepped into the store. I truly wished for no more self-proclaimed aliens to join us. Instead of resolving the situation, the number of troublemakers had only increased. It was, quite literally, piling up.

If Tamura-san witnessed this scene, she might actually fall ill for real this time.

“I mean, was there even any point in me listening?”

They were speaking in Futonese. However, Yashiro let out a low, mocking chuckle. Her visor gleamed dully.

“You may leave everything in the hands of I, Kibayashiro.”

“Do you honestly expect to gain anyone’s trust with that combination?”

And besides, wasn’t that all you really wanted to say?

Well, I figured it would be a help if someone else dealt with them, so I stepped aside and left the floor to Kibayashiro. I took a step back to watch their next move. Perhaps sensing Yashiro’s presence, Little Smakin turned toward her side and spoke with a “mofufu” sound, or so it seemed. I couldn’t tell if that attitude expressed friendliness or hostility.

“Ho, so you are the new alien. Then tell me, from which planet did you arrive?”

“Out of paper. Please refill.”

“Niwa-ya, please prepare some paper.”

“Did you give up your alien persona to become a great detective or something?”

“And the usual, please.”

She held out a hundred-yen coin. I had no idea what her “usual” was. In fact, was she even a regular to begin with?

In other words, she had just come here to play today, completely unrelated to Little Smakin. How misleading.

“Ask the clerk, ask the clerk.”

She pointed at Big Smakin. Yashiro stared intensely at Big Smakin through her visor and uttered a single word.

“This one’s an airhead.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that today. No comeback for you. Got it!”

I was too exhausted to even retort, so I stood up, partly to make an escape. Just as I had done before, I prepared some paper from the back of the shop. Since being told what to do repeatedly was a hassle, I simply took a brand-new notebook and stuffed it into Little Smakin’s futon. I also attempted to grab her by the head and pull her out, but as if sensing my intent, Little Smakin leaped backward to put distance between us.

“Hmm…”

His specs were incredibly high. As for Big Smakin, she struck a pose with a “Mofumofu!”, but that pose wasn’t really necessary.

They say that the naughtier the child, the cuter they are. Is that even true?

“Now, let me ask you again: where exactly did you come from?”

In response to Yashiro’s interrogation, there was a light-hearted ja-ja-ja-ja. Big Smakin began to wriggle.

“From outer space.”

“Hoh, what a coincidence. I’m from space, too. So, what brought you to Earth?”

“It’s mostly for personal reasons. If possible, I’d like to return to my home planet as quickly as possible.”

“I get it, I totally get it. I can’t go back either, you know.”

“Oh, what a strange coincidence.”

“Yes, on this planet, they say that even a chance brush of sleeves is a sign of fate.”

“Sleeve rubbing.”

“You don’t even have sleeves, you bastard! Wah ha ha!”

“…You don’t have any either.”

What on earth were these two bonding over? Yashiro turned around and shouted.

“As a result of my investigation, I have determined that while she looks like a futon, her true identity is an alien!”

She’s really just listening to what she’s been told!

“You’re useless! Actually, I was the idiot for expecting anything from you!”

“What?! I even summarised it so even your self-deprecating brain could understand it!”

“You just lumped everything together without distinguishing what was true from what was false!”

“Mofumofu!”

“Mofufuuu!”

“Shut up, you Smakins! Are you guys friends or enemies or what?!”

It went without saying that, as a result, I ended up shouting until my throat went hoarse.

No matter how hard I chased, Little Smakin and her true identity slipped through my fingers.

In the end, the day passed without me uncovering a single thing about her true identity.

“So, anyway, yesterday I was attacked by an MMR deployment and barely managed to escape.”

“MMR? Is that short for Morimori Ryuuko-san?”

What kind of name was that? Where the meaning changed entirely depending on which part you called ‘morimori’? Personally, I’ll just leave it at that.

It was Monday at school, the day after the arrival of Little Smakin. Lunchtime was the usual, eating lunch with Ryuushi-san. Nothing had changed; I had an onigiri from the school store, while Ryuushi-san had her bento. Meme-san had once made me a lunch, but it had been an attempt to use various ingredients to recreate Erio’s face on top of white rice, so I had no intention of ever asking her for one again. On the day she made that lunch, she had tried to slack off on her work, muttering, “My spirit and soul are completely depleted, guff.” Of course, it was a failure.

As she picked up a piece of burdock from the bamboo shoots with her chopsticks, Ryuushi-san nodded, saying, “Hmm.”

As always, her lunch was packed to the brim with vegetables and fruit.

“So that’s why your voice is so raspy today, Niwa-kun. Rattle, snake. A man who keeps a snake in his throat. Oh, isn’t that just so cool! I wonder if Ryuuko-san keeps something like a koi fish in her heart, too.”

“That’s supposed to be cool?”

“Aw, isn’t it? Like a garden with a pond where a koi splashes around. Oh, so glamorous!”

I turned a blind eye to Ryuushi-san’s standards of what was cool, the fact that the whole point had been lost, and stared intently at her smile instead. So this was how a girl who kept a koi in her heart laughed. Multiply, O ye koi fish. Multiply.

“She’s like a miniature Touwa-san, then? I wonder what her real identity is.”

“I think she’s just a local elementary schooler imitating Erio.”

There was no dream involved, but that was the most likely explanation. That kid sometimes wrapped herself up in a futon even at the candy store, so it wouldn’t have been strange if an elementary schooler had seen her and decided to imitate her. Well, the taste required to imitate such an outfit was certainly strange, but I decided to turn a blind eye to that particular personal preference.

While I was busy looking after Yashiro and Erio yesterday, Little Smakin had scurried away. She had probably gone home. If she had a place to return to, it was somewhat a relief. Among those who claimed to be aliens, there were those who used eaves as beds and targeted tomatoes in other people’s gardens.

“But, Niwa-kun, you really do have a knack for encountering people like that, don’t you?”

The corner of my cheek twitched.

“Wh-what kind of people?”

“People who say, ‘I am an alien’.’”

“Guh.”

It was a fact I didn’t particularly want pointed out. It was true; my encounter rate with such people was clearly too high.

It was strange; before I came to this town, I never used to run into Smakin-types like that.

“By the way, I am Ryuuko-san.”

Ryuushi-san decided to jump on the bandwagon. It sounded like Ryuuko Thunder. It was almost like a ring name.

“Hey, transfer student! Just flirting with Ryuushi like always?”

A tall woman was standing by the entrance at the back of the classroom, leaning against the door, and she beckoned to me. Not only that, but she was singing her words in a loud, boisterous tone. Ryuushi-san’s eyes distorted into wobbly slits.

With a dull thud, Ryuushi-san stood up from her seat. It seemed like she had bumped her leg.

“I-I-I’m not flirting!”

“I-I-I’m not flirting!”

Ryuushi-san denied it, waving her chopsticks wildly. Of course, Maekawa-san didn’t pay her any mind. She continued singing. She also continued beckoning. I wondered what it could be; perhaps the teacher was calling for me? I decided to go for now.

“I’ll be right back.”

“O-oh, okay!”

I was sent off with an excessive amount of enthusiasm. A clenched fist even flickered before my eyes. No, wait. Moreover, immediately afterwards, a phantom left hook struck, and I ended up groaning while clutching my left leg. Wait, that’s a completely different sport from basketball.

Clutching my half-eaten rice ball, I ran toward Maekawa-san. She stopped beckoning and placed her hands on her hips. Hmm, the gesture emphasised her limbs, which were as thin as a mannequin’s. They were truly like wires.

Braking with my heels, I slid to a stop in front of Maekawa-san.

“Oh, you arrived before the second verse even began. How swift. I’m impressed, transfer student.”

“Whoa, that was the shortest one… So, what is it?”

Maakawa-san reached out and slickly plucked a piece of kelp that was protruding from the centre of my onigiri, then popped it into her mouth. Since when did she start reaching into people’s food so naturally? Ah, and now she had even torn off and eaten a piece of the seaweed.

“Actually, transfer student, there’s a guest at the back gate who looks like they could only be an acquaintance of yours.”

Maekawa-san pointed toward the hallway with her thumb, a smirk playing on her lips. A guest who was an acquaintance of mine?

“Who is it? I don’t really know that many people.”

I wasn’t a local, after all. Moreover, my social circle was small. Well, there was always that saying about quality over quantity.

“Well. I recognised her face, but she’s someone I don’t know.”

Maekawa-san chuckled, her shoulders shaking for some reason.

“That’s incredibly vague. Did that person ask you to go fetch me?”

“Ah… well, let’s just leave it at that, shall we?”

“Pardon?”

“Now, this isn’t the time to be flirting with Ryuushi. Go ahead and enjoy yourself out there.”

She swung the door wide open and gestured toward the hallway, as if urging me to leave. I scratched my cheek, feeling as though she were practically demanding I get out of the classroom immediately. In the meantime, Maekawa-san gave my shoulder a light tap before stepping into the room and taking the seat directly across from where Ryuushi-san had been sitting just a moment before.

“I’ll sit in for the transfer student instead. How’s that? Aren’t you happy, Ryuushi?”

“F-for now, I’m Ryuuko, I told ya!”

It seemed Maekawa-san had successfully hijacked my spot. After popping the last of my onigiri into my mouth, I tilted my head, wondering if she was a guest. And I then stepped out into the hallway. If she wasn’t someone affiliated with the school, could it be Meme-san?

Erio probably wouldn’t come since she had to man the Tamura store. I couldn’t think of anyone else. With no ideas, I headed downstairs, put on my shoes, and walked and jogged aimlessly under the October sunlight. I headed toward the back gate, then turned back, sprinting with everything I had as if I were attempting to climb a waterfall. After all, the one at the back gate was…

“Where are you going?”

Little Smakin, who was even faster than the original, chased after me. Her footsteps had a subtle momentum to them. Moving her short legs that protruded from her futon with pitter-patter steps, she pursued me with both arms outstretched. Just wait a second.

“Why are you following me?! Why are you here?!”

As we both ran, the sound of ja-ja-ja-ja echoed. Little Smakin was far too skilful. Moreover, despite being wrapped in a futon, she followed me with perfect precision. She truly began to give off an otherworldly aura.

“Mofufu!”

Little Smakin tripped over her own right foot with her left. She fell face-first with a heavy thud. There was no way she could have broken her fall properly. Seeing that, I found myself unable to run away and turned back.

“Hey, is your face okay?”

“Pain, pain, go away!”

“Actually, let’s not, because you’ll fly away too.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely. I long for the extraordinary and the tragic.”

“Enough with the chatter. Just get up first.”

“Mofufu, mofufu…”

She flailed her legs for a moment, but then, perhaps having given up, she switched back to her ja-ja-ja-ja routine. Suddenly, a hand thrust toward me.

“Please pick me up.”

“…I suppose losing your balance in an adult-sized futon makes you just like my (imaginary) great-grandchild.”

I couldn’t just leave her lying there, so I helped her up. Unlike the original Smakin, this Little Smakin’s behaviour was perfectly normal, aside from her insistence that she was an alien, which made it difficult to push her away.

Because she had fallen, a dark stain had marred the front of the futon. Incidentally, the pattern on the futon was irises.

I wondered if it was a mere coincidence or perhaps she was showing respect to the original Smakin.

“I applaud with gratitude.”

“No, that’s fine, but what are you doing here? I mean, do you really have business with me?”

I sought confirmation while secretly praying he was looking for someone else. “Mofufu.” Ah, she nodded without a moment’s hesitation.

“You’re quite the esper. I actually intended to sneak in on my own.”

“If you enter this school dressed like that, it’ll cause misunderstandings, so just forget it.”

People might mistake her for the old Erio. It was uncertain how much the impression of that person had changed since this year’s school festival. Little Smakin twisted her body to the right with a soft “mofufu” and voiced a question. She ignored me.

“Besides, at this hour, you’re supposed to be at elementary school. It’s a weekday, after all.”

“I am an alien, so such things do not apply to me.”

“They do apply. Aaah, it’s because your mother and everyone else will worry.”

“I am surprisingly independent.”

“I don’t even know what you mean by surprisingly.”

Was there some rule that forbade self-proclaimed aliens from attending school? Primarily Yashiro, for example.

Suddenly, she began a series of side-to-side steps, as if performing a repetitive drill. I braced myself, wondering what this was about.

“It is my nature to be unable to stay still.”

“That doesn’t match your appearance at all… This isn’t going anywhere. What business do you have with me?”

“Oh, right. Actually, I wanted to ask you for tokkun.”

I stared intently at the paper where rounded letters danced. And tilted my head in confusion.

“Tokkun? You mean special training, right?… For what?”

“Oh well, the training I need to become a space pilot. Nahahana.”

“…Huh?”

A hollow laugh escaped my own lips, following her “Nahahana.” An astronaut? Is that your dream for the future?

That’s pretty great. Me too, when I was a child… what did I dream about?

“To return to space, one must first ascend into space.”

“Return… You’re being unnecessarily realistic.”

“I heard that in order to ascend to space from this planet, the only way is to become a space pilot.”

“I suppose that might be true. But isn’t that plan too long-term?

It was far too much of a slow, steady grind. How many years did she think it would take, and how many years of cooperation was she asking of me? There was no way I could look after her until the day she flew into space.

“Please, please take care of me! 4649, right?”

“That’s so old-fashioned. No, wait, hold on a second, okay?”

“Please, take your time.”

I considered slamming into her with everything I had, but I decided against it because it would be too much trouble to pick her up once she fell.

“Why are you relying on me for this?”

I was a complete outsider when it came to space. I might have been a bit particular about the deep sea, though.

“When I saw your face, it just clicked.”

“…You haven’t even looked at my face.”

To be stalked based on reasoning that felt nothing but suspicious. Give me a break.

“If anything, you should be clicking with Yashiro, who dresses the part on a daily basis.”

“That one is extremely suspicious.”

“I’ll agree with you there. Though the person right in front of me is just as bad.”

“I will do my very best, mofu!”

“Ugh, that had zero persuasive power.”

Little Smakin pulled the message back. Only to thrust it forward again immediately.

“I’ll do my very best, mofu!”

“No, that’s not the direction you should be putting your enthusiasm into.”

Besides, I had no idea what kind of tasks I should even assign to an astronaut’s special training.

“If I accumulate about fifty Space Points by completing special training tasks, it looks like I might be able to return to my home planet.”

“What is this, a point system?… Come to think of it, I wonder how my Youth Points are doing.”

I muttered to myself as I looked back to check the clock attached to the school building. I didn’t have time to chat with her. Lunch break was about to end. However, I didn’t know how she would react if I rejected her bluntly. After all, she was the type of person who could roam around while still wrapped in her futon. She was also the type to suggest sneaking into places. It was better to be cautious of such unpredictability.

Furthermore, this was for a very personal reason.

Recalling the great-granddaughter from my delusions, I found myself unable to push her away. It was quite a problem.

“Either way, it’s impossible from now on… Oh, I know.”

It was too much of a hassle, so I decided to drag someone else into it. I would drag Big Smakin into this.

In fact, she might actually be the perfect person for the job.

I pulled out my mobile phone.

Well, Meme-san really deserved credit for buying that girl a phone.

I selected Erio’s saved number and attempted to call. It was actually my first time calling her.

I wondered if her reaction would be somewhat innocent, since she likely wasn’t used to phone calls. Oh, she picked up.

“I told you not to call me while I’m working, you know.”

She sounded so condescending. Lately, I felt like her attitude toward me had become strangely bold. Was she looking down on me? Or is this her true nature, and she was gradually reverting to it? Due to the changes in her relationships?

“I can hear the sound of someone eating.”

The sound of something being slurped was mixed in. If Erio were to make something herself, it would probably be some kind of cup noodle.

“Eating lunch is part of a businesswoman’s job, you know?”

“I see. You’re quite reliable, businesswoman. Are you free after school… once I’m done with my classes? It can be after you’ve finished your work.”

“Hmm? Mm… ‘kay.”

“Alright. Then let’s meet at the park. You know, that place we went to back in April.”

If I remembered correctly, it was behind the temple. I was doubtful whether I could find it accurately, compared to Erio, who was from the area.

“Hmm? What will we be doing?”

“Ah, it’s just that I really need your help with something.”

“My help? …I hereby permit Cousin to call me Erio-san.”

“What kind of convenient logic is that?”

Yesterday she was my subordinate, and today she was acting like my senior. She was certainly a busy person. But well, fine, I might as well play along.

“Man, Erio-san, you really are a lifesaver!”

I was such an incredibly blatant sycophant. If someone had said that to me, I would have interpreted it as sarcasm.

But Erio was honest, for better or worse.

“Mm-hmm. That’s right, that’s right.”

“Whoa, seriously. Anyway, see you after school.”

“Bring it on!”

After getting Erio’s overly enthusiastic agreement, I hung up the phone.

Then, I faced Little Smakin. She was jumping around. Just as she had claimed, she was restless.

“So, I’ve secured a master for you, so do your best after school.”

“This is ok.”

“Huh?”

“No, I was just talking to myself. After school, is it? Understood.”

“Oh, you’re being quite cooperative. This Smakin is easy to talk to, isn’t she?”

“Please do not lump me in with the average Futonese.”

“There aren’t any random… oh, wait, maybe there are. I suppose there are.”

I let out a sigh. The only people in this world who couldn’t deny such a thing were those in Erio’s inner circle.

I never imagined a second, more serious one would appear. I stared intently down at Little Smakin.

As if trying to discern her true identity through the futon.

“I’ll be blunt: who exactly are you?”

“I am what you might call a new face.”

“…I can’t even see your face.”

Perhaps I was born under a star that favoured these kinds of people.

I felt like destroying that very star, but as I looked up at the vast blue sky, I could find nothing of the sort.

Anyway, after school. Ryuushi-san was busy bouncing balls in her club, and Maekawa-san had left the classroom early.

I was supposed to spend an unremarkable amount of time wandering, with nowhere to go but the bookshop.

But then, my time for mofu-mofu had arrived.

“W-why did you call me?”

Because it didn’t seem like anyone else would show up even if I called.

“No, really, Erio-san, you are seriously so reliable!”

“I-I already heard that at lunchtime.”

Hum, did I tell you that? I didn’t quite remember, but regardless, I needed you.

“Since this Futonene came into being because of you (probably), you’d better look after her.”

I was at the park with Erio and Little Smakin. The park was deserted, the kind of place children wouldn’t even use as a playground, and despite the sunlight still pouring down, it felt chilly. Perhaps the sparse weeds, scattered as if pushing aside the pebbles on the ground, contributed to that feeling.

With her futon still dirty, the tiny Smakin sat on the swing. As she swayed the chains, which were peeling and shedding red rust, Little Smakin seemed quite excited, letting out a little “mofufuuu”.

“Since there’s also that tiny one from yesterday.”

“Yeah. The one you lost to.”

“I-I didn’t lose.”

She shook her hair vigorously from side to side. She really was someone who displayed her competitive streak in the strangest of ways.

“Apparently, that little one wants to become an astronaut, so she wants you to give her special training.”

I shrugged as she asked, “Why on earth are you asking me?” In response to that, the confusion that had resided in Erio’s eyes softened into a gentle roundness. She drew a breath, her surprise so profound it was almost sluggish.

“Space, pilot.”

“It’s called My Dream.”

Little Smakin joined the conversation while swinging on the seesaw. It was unclear where she had sourced them from, but it seemed she had managed to replenish her supply of paper. Erio looked down, fiddling with her bangs with a quiet “…Mm”.

“An astronaut. A space pilot. Park, special training… Ugh.”

This time, she began clutching her head. Because of her past (her Denpa era), such gestures from her stirred a subtle sense of anxiety within me. I could not deny the possibility that the appearance of Little Smakin before her might be providing some mysterious stimulus.

“What’s wrong?”

I peered into her face and asked. There was no sign of pain in Erio’s expression. She simply looked as though she had swallowed something bitter.

“An old wound in my heart began to ache.”

“…That’s exactly what the protagonist said in that drama yesterday.”

Ignoring my remark, Erio lifted her head and thumped her chest. It was a hollow sound.

“Alright!” she nodded with newfound determination and then pointed at her own face.

“You can leave this part to the great Erio-san.”

“How reliable.”

I sent her off with a few overly casual, perfunctory claps. Standing tall before Little Smakin, Erio folded her arms modestly, looking somewhat awkward. After taking a single deep breath, she spoke.

“First, try calling me Master.”

“Masster.”

“The small part was unnecessary.”

“Mast.”

“A-Aniki!”

It was difficult to hold back my laughter at Erio, who had regressed to the role of a sidekick in just a few seconds of interaction.

“You’re being totally looked down on, aren’t you? I wonder why.”

It was difficult to hold back my laughter at Erio, who had regressed to the role of a sidekick in just a few seconds of interaction. I chose not to intervene, instead offering a half-hearted “Good luck” as I watched the two of them play off one another.

It was quite a heartwarming sight. Provided one was used to Smakin’s appearance. I certainly couldn’t.

“What could you possibly understand about space travel?”

Little Smakin asked Erio, letting out a soft, slightly ragged huff. Erio, twirling a strand of hair around her index finger and scattering sparkles, took a deep breath before responding.

“I used to aim for that back when I was in elementary school. I even used to have secret special training in the park just like this.”

“…Hoh hoh.”

…That too had been drawn on the paper. It was unclear whether that implied admiration or some other expression. However, as if having reached a conclusion, Little Smakin, who had been twisting her body sceptically, straightened her spine. The shrivelled chikuwa straightened out as if it had been recast.

Sitting on a piece of playground equipment that looked like a tire half-buried in the ground, I let out a long sigh.

Back when I was in elementary school, I had dreamed of becoming an astronaut.

I felt as though I had a memory of hearing such a story, yet I couldn’t be certain.

“T-That’s why I said I’ll be your master, I told ya!”

Ah, she had just imitated a certain Ryuushi-san. She was the type of person who was easily influenced by television or the friends around her.

“Then, let us arrange what is known as a trial period. For a short time, I shall treat you as a (provisional) master, and you shall dispense special training. If I am satisfied, I shall remove the (provisional) part.”

The small one, looking down on her, acknowledged Erio as her master, albeit provisionally. Erio nodded vigorously.

She spun around and pointed toward the upper diagonal. Using her unreliable, feeble right arm.

“A-Alright. For now, we’re going to go work on our stamina!”

“Ooh!”

“We’re going to run, so keep up!”

“Don’t you fall behind!”

“Hey, that’s my line!”

And so, Erio and Little Smakin began running through the park. Running around was no different from what they had done yesterday. The only difference was that Erio was wearing a one-piece dress instead of being wrapped in a futon.

The park grounds were small, so much so that they were barely big enough for a mouse, let alone a cat. They completed their laps in rapid succession. Naturally, the number of times they passed in front of me, as I sat on a tyre with my chin resting in my hand, increased. The sight of the girl with light blue hair and the mysterious object wrapped in a futon running around the park in circles was dramatic, in a sense. The sight of the girl with light blue hair and the mysterious object wrapped in a futon running around the park in circles was dramatic, in a sense. Erio’s feet moved with quick, light steps, and Little Smakin scurried along right after her.

I noticed it as I focused on their feet, but they were both barefoot.

I couldn’t keep dwelling on the delusion of a great-grandmother playing with her great-grandchild. However, the sight of Erio, no longer wrapped in a futon, leading a girl who was still wrapped in one as they ran, felt somewhat strange. It felt as though a story, similar but fundamentally different due to a single shifted role, was about to be born from this moment.

After I had watched about twenty laps, I grew bored and lifted my hips off the tyre. Feeling thirsty, I left the park in search of a vending machine to buy a drink. “Where are you going?” and “Mofufu” voices called out to me, but I brushed them off like a self-appointed master, saying, “Don’t chatter aimlessly during training!” Since she was the aniki of her master, I laughed sarcastically, thinking the role was appropriate.

“I wonder if one can actually reach space like that.”

It looked to me as nothing more than chickens flapping their wings and scurrying across the ground.

I spotted a vending machine on the road running alongside the temple and bought a juice. I tried to recall the brand of coffee I had drank in the park on a winter night, but only Hoshinaka’s profile kept returning to my mind, causing the appearance of the can to grow blurred.

I gave up and settled on orange juice instead. After buying one, I started to turn away from the vending machine, but my feet stopped in their tracks. I scratched the back of my head with an “Ah”, hesitated for a moment, and then proceeded to buy two more juices with a series of heavy thuds.

When I returned, clutching the three orange juices between my fingers, the two of them were still running around the premises. I felt as though it looked less like practice for soaring into space and more like mere running for health maintenance.

While feeling a slight sense of admiration for how Little Smakin, whose vision should have been obstructed, continued to circle the park while accurately following Erio, I sat back down on the same tyre. I opened just one of the orange juices and took a sip. At the sight of this, Erio and the others veered off their running course and came sprinting toward me in a straight line. Much like puppies returning to someone’s feet.

“What, is it over already?”

“Taking a break.”

Even as she said that, she reached out her hand. I couldn’t help but feel uneasy about a training session that involved taking breaks right in the middle of warm-ups.

I handed her the can with a wry smile. Well, I suppose being this relaxed was for the best. If things had turned into a full-blown, hot-blooded sports anime, I doubted I could have kept up. Besides, I didn’t even feel the need to be accompanying her at this point.

“Sniff, sniff, smells of mandarins.”

To my surprise, Little Smakin even correctly identified the type of juice. Hmm, was her sense of smell unnaturally acute? Or was there perhaps a tiny peep hole cut into the front of her futon? Growing increasingly exasperated yet unsettled by this second-generation local youkai, I held out the can of orange juice. Now, how would she drink it?

Little Smakin bent at the waist as if bowing, thrusting both arms toward me. After clutching the orange juice can, she immediately pulled her hands back. There followed the sound of a tab being pulled from inside the futon and the rhythmic, gulping sounds of swallowing. This repeated for several seconds before she tossed the empty can out.

“Phew…”

“I feel like it would have been quicker to just say that out loud.”

“Mofufuuu.”

Sorry, but it had just been a waste of time. I picked up the empty can and let out a sigh. Because she was capable enough of understanding me, I couldn’t simply ignore her, which was exhausting. When I looked over at Erio while resting my chin on my hand, she was struggling to pull the tab and open the can. Her rounded fingertips and nails tapped against it with a clicking sound, her brow furrowing as she muttered, “Ununu…” With another heavy sigh, “Haa”, I snatched the can away from her.

“Ah, Cousin just robbed me.”

“I bought it in the first place, anyway… Here, I opened it for you.”

I handed it over after opening it. “Ooh,” Erio said, her expressionless face showing a hint of moved emotion as she peered into the surface of the orange juice. She stared intently, then stuck out her tongue and began to lap at the liquid with the tip. What are you, a cat?

“Why are you being so wary?”

“If stingy Cousin is treating me, it might mean you’re poisoning me. This is Erio-san’s intuition.”

“…Geez, Erio-chan, you’re quite a piece of work, fundamentally denying someone’s good intentions like that.”

I grabbed a handful of her head and squeezed with my fingers. “Uwa, uwa!” Erio flailed, trying to escape, but her resistance only caused small particles of hair to scatter as they rubbed together. Dammit, light blue particles, don’t go making such a dramatic atmosphere for a scene like this. When I tried to brush them away with my hand, they only clung to me even more.

It was as if they were tracing Meme-san’s very personality.

However, lately, she showed a tendency to be more talkative than before. It was possible that some kind of change had occurred after she exchanged phone numbers with Ryuushi-san and Maekawa-san. Though, she still couldn’t even drink juice by herself.

Little Smakin, who had been watching that interaction, let out a dramatic ja-ja-ja-ja.

“(Provisional) Master Points: Minus 3.”

She pointed it out sharply at Erio. Erio looked up, flinching as she attempted to protest.

“U-Ugh. “What is it?”

“If you hit minus ten, you’ll become my new apprentice. It’s an extreme downgrade.”

“G-Gah…” Erio muttered. It felt as though she would reach that point within the hour. Setting that aside, I also took a sip of my juice. A beverage with a fruit content of 17%, a figure that someone like Meme-san would likely envy, burnt my throat. It was terribly sweet. It made my throat ache far more than that sweet coffee I had once drank.

As it passed down my throat, it left a taste behind, as if stubbornly clinging like grime. That kind of taste. I swallowed that persistent flavour, which felt out of place in the autumn breeze, feeling it scratch my throat. There simply wasn’t enough fruit juice.

“Hey, hey.”

Erio pinched the edge of Little Smakin’s futon. She seemed a bit hesitant. Little Smakin, however, maintained a dignified, or rather brazen, attitude and turned around sharply, even though she likely couldn’t see me anyway.

“What is it?”

“Why do you want to go to space?”

Erio asked, her tone clearly attempting to be serious. Little Smakin’s response was instantaneous.

“To return to my family. Go home.”

“…Hmph.”

Erio made a sour face, unsure of what to make of a motive that was hardly different from her own self in April.

“Then, why is it that you want to become an astronaut?”

Little Smakin asked in return. Erio’s polka-dotted eyes shimmered like the surface of water.

Even though I realised that the question was not in the past tense, I watched the exchange in silence.

“I… I just like space and stuff.”

“Is that so?”

Her response was indifferent. Perhaps bored with waiting, she began to hop around. It was as if her whole body were pleading, suggesting we should get to the “tock-tock” sooner rather than later. Erio gave an “Mmn” in response and gulped down her orange juice in one go. After finishing, she coughed a few times and hunched her shoulders.

Then, I took the empty can she held out to me. As I held the now-hollow can between my fingers and tried to take a sip of my remaining juice, I felt a gaze upon me. From beyond the futon, Little Smakin was staring intensely at me, or more accurately, at the juice. When I tried bringing the can closer to her, an outstretched hand snatched it away with an “Uwa!” She gulped it down with that familiar sound, then tossed the empty can aside with a light “pop”.

“Thanks for the drink.”

“Who said you could have that?”

Well, it didn’t matter much, as the taste had been quite lingering. I wondered what kind of throat she had to be able to chug that all at once without any trouble.

Waiting for that exchange to settle, Erio turned toward me, her lips softening just a fraction as she spoke. The way the stray particles drifted around her expression only added to the sense of mystery.

“Cousin, I’m going to become an astronaut.”

“…………”

“I… I’ve wanted to say that for a long time.”

She wasn’t exactly crying, but the way the particles of light lingered at the edges of her eyes and drifted down in intervals looked much like tears. I felt my voice grow stiff as I addressed Erio, whose expression seemed to be caught in a bittersweet smile between laughter and weeping.

I reached out, not with a softness so slight it might have been a mere illusion, but with a touch that was undeniably there.

“…I see. We met just a little too late, didn’t we?”

“Hmm.”

Erio gave a small nod. As I naturally stroked her head, I looked up at the sky visible through the gaps in the dense trees. It was a day that could hardly be called clear; masses of clouds shrouded the sun. The moon and the tiny, grain-like stars were far away, and there existed a barrier there that we, as we were now, could do nothing to overcome.

I wondered if running around on the earth could ever serve as enough of a running start to eventually break through that very barrier.

The expression of Little Smakin, who needed to know that truth, remained hidden beneath a thick futon, submerged in the pitch-black darkness within.

Thus, since April, I have found myself being entangled by Smakin once again.

Once more, I allowed myself to be swept away by it, but this time, there were two people tasked with handling it.

---

• Little Smakin invades: −3
• Yashiro also invades: −2
• Involved with Little Smakin: −3
• Little Smakin, special training in the park with Erio: +1

Current total Youth Points: −7

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