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<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:VolumeSF_Chapter2|Chapter 2]] | Return to [[Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko|Main Page]] | Forward to [[Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko:VolumeSF_Chapter4|Chapter 4]] |- |} </noinclude> == Chapter 3 == [[File:DTS_Vol_SF_16.jpg|thumb]] * Engaging in a territorial dispute with a dog: −3 * Defeat, retreat: −4 * The subject and the (provisional) alien heading towards the sea in question: +3 * Tracking the subject’s future movements: +2 '''Current total XX points''': +4 ----- “How does this look? Do you want it a little shorter?” The middle-aged woman reflected in the mirror checked the finished look while pinching Makoto’s bangs. Wrapped in a cutting cloth like a ''teru teru bouzu''<ref>''Teru teru bouzu'' are handmade dolls that are hung at doors and windows to make the rain go away.</ref>, Makoto gazed at his hair, which was now a size shorter, and shook his head. “It is fine just as it is.” “I see. What a pity.” The woman flashed a mischievous smile. When Makoto questioned the meaning of her disappointment with his eyes, her grin deepened. It was the face of a bully, with wrinkles swirling at the corners of her eyes. “And here I thought I’d get to give a young boy a buzz cut for once.” “…Please give me a break.” On the third Saturday of April, Makoto was having his hair cut at a hair salon recommended by Meme. He had been chilled to the bone when he nearly ended up with a shaved head, but the hairdresser’s skill was certainly reliable. After his hair was trimmed quickly and evenly, Makoto stood up, satisfied with the result. After having the cutting cape removed, he headed toward the register. “Still, JoJo-san has great taste, doesn’t she?” The shop manager, who was also the hairdresser, smiled at Makoto while tapping lightly on the register. “What are you talking about? Jojo-san?” “Meme-san.” “Meme? Oh, Jojo, I see<ref>Makoto realises here that “Jojo” is just another way of pronouncing the characters for the name “Meme”.</ref>.” “You’re Jojo-san’s young man, aren’t you?” “I’m her nephew!” “Oh? I must have misheard ‘young nephew’ then.” It was a transparently feigned ignorance. This hairdresser had likely chosen the very misunderstanding she knew Makoto would dislike. Realising this, Makoto reluctantly accepted the reason why Meme had recommended the place, simply because it was her friend’s shop. “Ah ha ha, you look repulsed. Well, being a high schooler, the age gap must be a bit tough.” “Is that really the only problem?” Makoto struck his own temple, cursing the fact that he had, even for a split second, thought that might be the only issue. “Speaking of which, is that girl doing well?” The hairdresser asked, as if making casual small talk. “That girl?” “The one with the beautiful hair. You know, the one with the sparkly light blue hair.” “Ah… She’s fine, I suppose?” “I was actually worried she might have gone bald since she hasn’t come in for a haircut lately.” The hairdresser offered the change to Makoto with a smile, but it was impossible to believe such a ridiculous statement. After putting the coins he received into his wallet, Makoto bowed and left the shop. The moment he stepped outside, a silver humanoid appeared in the corner of his vision. Makoto could not believe his eyes. “Fu fu fu fu fu.” The owner of that strangely rhythmic laughter was clad in a spacesuit. A spacesuit and a helmet enveloped what appeared to be the small frame of a young girl. Makoto instinctively looked up at the sky to confirm that the blue expanse was still there. He even doubted for a moment if he had been suddenly cast out into space. Why was an astronaut here? As if mocking Makoto’s very question, the girl’s humming continued without pause. The girl in the spacesuit was doodling on a poster of a woman posted on the front of the shop. She added eyebrows using a permanent marker. After that, she drew a field of flowers on top of the hair and finally wrote, “Hoshimiya Yashiro was here!” Like a criminal confessing a crime. Was that perhaps the girl’s name? “A H, F O U N D Y O U.” With an air of hollow pretence, the astronaut girl looked back at Makoto. Makoto sighed as he listened to her bizarre way of speaking, where each word was punctuated by a rhythmic tapping against her throat. Was this town full of nothing but things like this? The fact that her visor was opaque, hiding her face, only heightened Makoto’s unease. Makoto recalled Maekawa in her cosplay. However, the girl was far too short to be Maekawa. The astronaut girl seemed to be in the upper grades of elementary school, or perhaps even younger. If that were the case, there was also the possibility that she was Maekawa’s younger sister. “Z U I Z U I<ref>''Zui'' is the sound of something approaching or intense staring.</ref>” The girl stared intently at Makoto. She circled around him, even humming the sound of her own gaze. As Makoto braced himself, wondering what was happening, the girl reached out. She pinched his earlobe. “What?” “Hmm… Hmm…” After she finished fiddling with his earlobe while ignoring Makoto’s question, her hand did not pull away; instead, it reached even further. She grabbed Makoto’s freshly trimmed bangs and, “Ah?”, yanked out several strands. “Ow! That hurts!” [[File:DTS_Vol_SF_17.jpg|thumb|She grabbed Makoto’s freshly trimmed bangs and, “Ah?”, yanked out several strands.]] Makoto buckled at the knees while clutching his bangs. Before he could collapse, he steadied himself and yelled at the girl. “What do you think you’re doing!?” “S A M P L E H A R V E S T C O M P L E T E” Makoto’s bangs fluttered helplessly between the girl’s fingertips. He instinctively clenched his fists, but he suppressed his anger by digging his nails into his palms as he asked the girl, “Are you an elementary schooler from around here? Isn’t there a taller girl with you?” “D O N’ T M O C K M E Y O U B A S T A R D. W H O A R E Y O U C A L L I N G A N E L E M E N T A R Y S C H O O L E R?” The girl in the spacesuit raised both hands in protest. That very gesture only served to emphasise her youth. “You, obviously. What on earth are you doing dressed like that?” “I A R R I V E D T O O E A R L Y B E C A U S E I G O T T H E T I M I N G W R O N G, I’ M B O R E D.” “Ah? What do you mean by timing?” The girl’s voice was, strictly speaking, incredibly difficult to understand due to the way she spoke. “I A M A M E S S E N G E R O F T H E M O O N.” The fact that she wasn’t even making sense in her replies was a problem, but it was the content of her statement that caused Makoto to knit his brows. “The moon? What, some child moon make-believe game? That’s so old-fashioned, hey.” “W H A T D O Y O U M E A N M A K E - B E L I E V E? *cough*, *cough*.” The person inside the spacesuit choked. It seemed as though she had been speaking with far too much strain on her throat. Makoto scratched his temple, feeling exasperated. Glancing sideways around the hair salon, he saw that the hairstylist had turned her back to him and the spacesuit, leisurely cleaning the shop. She swept the hair scattered across the floor with a broom and collected it into a dustpan. “Wait a moment, an error has occurred.” The girl thrust her palm toward Makoto, requesting time to soothe her throat. Deflated by her action, Makoto unclenched his fists. “You’ll hurt your throat if you push yourself like that.” “Shut up, you fool.” Her natural voice was high-pitched, fitting for a young girl. She waved her arm in a gesture to shoo him away. Perhaps because the bulky spacesuit created an illusion, her limbs appeared even shorter than they actually were. “Ugh, mmm… G O O D I A M R E V I V E D.” “That’s good. Well then, will you go apologise to the shopkeeper?” “W-A-A-H-H…” Makoto reached his hand into the gap between the girl’s helmet and her spacesuit and grabbed her by the scruff of her neck. As he tried to drag her into the shop like a kitten, she flailed her limbs in resistance. “W H A T D O Y O U I N T E N D T O D O, Y O U B A S T A R D?” “What I intend to do? You have to apologise for scribbling on the poster.” “I T’ S F I N E.” “It is not fine.” The girl swung her elbow, knocking Makoto’s hand away. The momentum of her swing sent her body spinning like a top. After spinning around and frantically scrambling to put some distance between them, she turned back toward Makoto. “F A R E W E L L F O R N O W, M A K O T O.” The girl ran away, leaving behind the silly, slapping sound of her footsteps. Makoto rubbed his eyes instinctively as he watched her strange figure proceed through the town with such nonchalance. He had even tried punching his own head, but it didn’t seem to be some kind of hallucination. Halfway through, the girl began swinging her arms vigorously to accelerate. Her helmet swayed so violently that her running style made onlookers anxious, fearing it might fly off along with her entire head. “…Huh? How did she know my name?” He had no memory of introducing himself. There was no way they could have met. She didn’t exactly give off the vibe of being a friend of someone he had met since arriving in town, either. If that were the case, then perhaps she had been looking him up on her own. Was the gaze he had occasionally felt since arriving here actually hers? Makoto’s thoughts progressed through four distinct stages before he reached a conclusion. “Wait, isn’t that just a stalker?” Makoto laughed heartily, brushing off the far-fetched deduction. Makoto never once considered himself so full of charm that someone would follow him around. After staring in the direction where the girl in the spacesuit had departed for a while, he quickly hopped onto his bicycle. “Heh, you cut your hair. Send me a picture.” “I’m going to refuse, because I feel some resistance toward taking photos of myself.” “Niwa-chi, you’re a highschooler now, so you should get used to being in the spotlight soon.” “So what if I get used to it? Besides, it’s dark, so if I take pictures, my face will look like a horror movie.” “It’s dark? Niwa-chi, where even are you right now? I can hear a heavy splashing sound.” “The beach.” Makoto, who was crouching on the sandy shore, answered concisely. His shortened hair was not tossed by the sea breeze as much as it had been the last time. The scent of the tide was strong at the coast again today. Since it was the middle of the night, there was no scorching sunlight, but because of that, the coldness of the waves crashing onto the sandy beach felt even more intense. Makoto’s ankles, as he crouched there, were dampened by the occasional heavy waves that washed over them. He wore no socks on his feet, having borrowed a pair of sandals that had been left lying in a corner of the Touwa Family residence. Erio was not wrapped in her futon today. Perhaps because she had gotten it so messy last time, Meme had stripped it right off her before they left, shouting, “Take it off, take it off!” Erio remained unresponsive to her mother, and Makoto felt a sense of awkwardness at the temperature difference between the mother and daughter. Makoto had always been bad at witnessing such misplaced affection. “The spring sea, and at night, no less. Heh, heh heeeh.” “What kind of ‘heh’ is that?” “I just thought that even Niwa-chi is starting to understand the concept of Youth Points.” “That one sentence only deepens the mystery.” Even as he spoke, Makoto’s eyes remained fixed on Erio. For the time being, Erio showed no movement. Tonight, it was Erio, rather than Makoto, who had initiated the “Mofumofu” invitation. Makoto was initially bewildered by what seemed to be a change in her mindset, but he speculated that perhaps she had grown to enjoy the ease of being carried. “Well, I have to go. I need to go experience my youth in the spring sea, so I’m hanging up now.” “Very well. In that case, I shall request about five kilograms of the sands of youth as a souvenir.” “Don’t make such plain, difficult-to-carry demands. Goodnight.” He ended the call and put his phone away. He gazed out at the sea, recalling his conversation with Maekawa. It was in this very sea that the Erio had been found after missing. Disappearance. A void in her memory. A series of events that felt distant and disconnected from everything Makoto had known in his life up to this point. How had Erio faced it, and how had she “fled” to the aliens? No matter how much Makoto thought about it, it lacked a sense of reality, and no definitive conclusion could be reached. Makoto straightened his legs and stood up, approaching Erio. Sensing him, Erio ran toward the sea as if to escape. Then, timing it perfectly with an incoming wave, she leapt. It was a far more picturesque sight than flying while wrapped in a futon, but it remained nothing more than a fleeting image. Within seconds, gravity pressed her down, and Erio sank into the surface of the sea. She fell chin-first, making a heavy sound as she ploughed through the sand. Makoto crouched beside Erio, who lay sprawled face-down. The incoming waves soaked up to his ankles, and the chill sent goosebumps across his skin. “It’s about time you learned how to take a fall.” He grabbed Erio by the shoulders and pulled her up. The front of her clothes was soaked through, and her chin and skin were covered in sand. Erio looked up at Makoto with an expressionless face. However, there was a slight flicker in her eyes, which stirred Makoto’s protective instincts. Brushing his hair back, Makoto turned to face the sea, muttering that he was being ridiculous. “You really need to at least think about your technique.” Makoto thrust his fingers into the seawater-soaked sand. “For example, you could prepare something like a stepping stone. You could pack the sand together…” He gathered the surrounding sand with his fingers. After constructing something resembling an unstable sandcastle, Makoto spoke. “You build a platform like this, and then you jump from a height. If you do that, you might be able to jump just a little bit higher than you can now. And, if you stay in the air longer, it increases the possibility that you’ll be able to fly… or something like that, I don’t know.” In the end, his words became vague. It was because he remembered the time Erio had jumped into the river before. If he were to speak seriously, Erio might try jumping from an even greater height. That was what Makoto feared. He watched for Erio’s reaction. Erio was staring down at the sandy ledge, her mouth hanging slightly open in a daze. Makoto watched her profile, thinking it was a rare reaction. She appeared somewhat defenceless. Erio tapped the sandy ledge with her hands, as if she were admiring something. She touched it, then stared intently at the grains of sand that had stuck to her palm. After clenching those grains of sand in her fist, Erio looked up. “Cousin.” Erio’s piercing gaze struck Makoto. Those light blue circles held more light than the stars in the night sky. “As an alien, I pity your ignorance and primitive thinking, Cousin.” “So, you’re an alien in the end.” Makoto sighed, resting his cheek against his hand. “I don’t want to hear that from someone who’s just flying around without a plan.” He used his finger to wipe the sand from Erio’s chin. Erio remained passive, staring intently at the tip of Makoto’s finger. Once the sand was cleared, Erio began digging into the beach with both fingers. She poured more sand into the poorly constructed foothold that Makoto had made. Each time her light blue toes disturbed the earth, they left behind a pale blue trail. “What, so you talk big, but you’re actually going with my suggestion?” When Makoto expressed his exasperation with a joyful tone, Erio’s expressionless face fixed him with a glare. “I have decided to respect the fact that you provided your human perspective to an alien, and therefore, I shall make use of you, Cousin.” “Hmm. So, basically, you’re saying thank you?” Erio threw sand directly at Makoto. Makoto leaped back dramatically to avoid it but lost his balance and landed hard on his backside, coating himself in sand. “Aaaah,” Makoto lamented, sounding somewhat amused. “You can’t fly either way… Well, I suppose you’ll just act as a kid for a change?” After taking off his sandals and throwing them far beyond where the waves reached, Makoto crouched into a position facing Erio and scooped up some sand. Erio said nothing about Makoto joining in and silently continued piling and packing the sand. The two of them worked together in silence. Beyond the horizon, a blue light wavered. It was unclear whether it was an illusion or something truly radiant. That light cast a faint glow onto the beach. It turned Makoto and Erio into silhouettes that became part of the shoreline itself. The receding and advancing waves soaked the feet of both Makoto and Erio. The sound of the waves drew near and drifted away. Erio, who was sitting on the beach, shivered, perhaps because her backside had grown wet. While feeling relieved that she still had such a human of reaction, Makoto patted the sandy ground with his hand. The sensation of the sand against the soles of his feet felt as though it were grating against the very depths of his soul. “Playing in the sand is not exactly a youthful thing at our age.” Makoto looked up toward the sky, as if gazing at the stars. There was something shining through the gaps in the clouds, but Makoto had no way of knowing which star it might be. On the way back from the sea, they passed a noisy group on a four-lane road. A group of boys, who looked like high school students in casual clothes, came running in three rows while chatting amongst themselves. Reluctantly, Makoto moved to the edge of the sidewalk to make way. The lights of three bicycles cast a faint glow upon Makoto and Erio. In that light, the faces of the three boys also became visible. Makoto’s eyes drifted toward the face of the boy on the far right. Makoto recognised that face. He believed he had seen him in his classroom before. Although they had never spoken, Makoto found himself glancing at Erio in his basket. The boys seemed so absorbed in their conversation that they passed by without even noticing Makoto and his companion. Even after they had drifted into the distance, Makoto remained frozen, huddling into himself for a while. As if suspicious of Makoto’s lack of movement, Erio nudged the bicycle basket with her heel. Makoto scratched his forehead, feeling a twinge of anxiety about school life resuming the day after tomorrow, but he pedalled his bicycle forward, knowing there was no use worrying about it. For better or worse, Niwa Makoto was never good at thinking about the consequences. The next day was Sunday. Makoto woke up shortly after nine in the morning. From outside the window, the sound of raindrops bouncing off the roof could be heard. Because the room was dim, it seemed he had slept well. Makoto sat up, pressing his hand against his head, which throbbed with a dull ache from oversleeping. As he licked the inside of his lower lip, he noticed vertical cracks, a sign that he was dehydrated. He hung his head, waiting for the headache to subside a little, when he sensed a presence. Makoto lifted his gaze. In an instant, he realised exactly what that presence was. “Mofuu.” “…………” “Moomoofufuumomofuumoomoofufuu.” “Stop invading.” Erio was in Makoto’s room. She was sitting in a chair, stretching her legs out and swinging them around in circles. One of her legs caught on the leg of the desk, making a hard, clattering sound. Erio tumbled off the chair and began bouncing around while still lying down, as if complaining of the pain. She bounced along with the futon, sending a dull vibration through the room. Watching that series of actions, Makoto thought about going back to sleep. He had rather wanted to convince himself that he was merely dreaming, but the swirling dust and light blue particles stripped away his drowsiness. It looked as though they were evaporating. Makoto climbed down from the bed. He spoke to Erio, keeping his distance from her as she writhed. “Do you need something? Just so you know, we aren’t going to the beach today. It’s raining.” “Aliens mercifully assert that humans should finally realise that the lazy part of their nature that makes them hesitate to go out due to something as trivial as rain is hindering the progress of the Earthlings.” Erio countered with an expressionless face, peeking out from the futon. She stopped her jumping and sat down on the floor. Standing there, Makoto looked down at her hair, which seemed to be emitting its own light, and let out a sigh. “That’s rich coming from someone whose ankle is red from hitting it.” “There is no causal relationship between my ankle and my refusal to go outside, and furthermore, it is an event that poses no hindrance whatsoever to my investigations of the rain and the universe. Cousin, you lack the intellectual grounds to deny that.” “Alright, alright, we’ll get to it eventually.” Makoto left the room, brushing her off with a casual remark. Erio followed. Makoto headed down the stairs. Erio followed. At that point, he turned back. He felt as though Erio was staring intently at him. Her face was already hidden beneath the blankets. “Don’t tell me you’ve taken a liking to me?” Makoto groaned. Erio merely replied with a vague, nonsensical “Mofu”, just as she always did. “Show your face when you’re giving answers like that.” He gave a wry smile at the disjointed conversation with Erio. He laughed at himself, realising he was becoming accustomed to situations just like this. When he headed toward the kitchen, he found Meme dancing. She was stepping to a rhythm while shaking a plastic bottle containing what looked like a milky white liquid with both hands. She was really in the groove, even twisting her hips around. After punching himself for being captivated by that incredibly assertive backside, Makoto cleared his throat. Meme turned around. Her indigo hair was terribly dishevelled from sleep, and her pyjamas were slipping off her shoulder. “Good morning, Mako-kun. Oh my, Erio’s here with you too?” “Good morning… You’re certainly full of energy considering how early in the morning it is.” Even during the greeting, Meme did not stop. She continued to shake the plastic bottle at high speed. “I’m in the middle of making homemade butter. *Shake-shake-shake*.” Her arms moved violently, as if she were playing a musical instrument. However, she seemed to feel no need to move her feet or hips with such flair. Makoto sat in his usual chair and rested his chin on his hand. Erio settled into the chair beside him. Meme continued to dance for nearly five minutes. By the end, she was out of breath, but the butter was finished. She used scissors to cut off just the bottom of the plastic bottle and placed it in the centre of the dining table. Then, Meme moved on to preparing the rest of the meal. She toasted the bread and placed fried eggs on everyone’s plates. Watching her efficiency, Makoto was somewhat impressed, thinking that her experience as a mother certainly wasn’t for show. He could not discern any reaction from Erio. Once the preparations were complete and Meme had taken her seat, breakfast began. Protruding her hands from beneath her futon, Erio skilfully spread the butter onto her toast. Makoto was impressed once again, thinking that she was quite handy with everything except for her way of life. Erio then attempted to throw that piece of toast from beneath her futon. Makoto reflexively grabbed her arm. Both Erio and the futon jolted. “Wouldn’t it be better to just show your face and eat? In fact, just do it. Otherwise you’ll get the futon dirty.” “Mofuu…” Erio groaned from beneath the covers as if expressing her dissatisfaction. Meme paused with a piece of toast halfway to her mouth, watching the exchange between Makoto and Erio. Though her expression remained unchanged, she had stopped blinking. Before long, Erio returned the toast to her plate and peeled back the top of the futon with both arms. Like a bud bursting into bloom, Erio’s true face emerged, releasing all the pent-up energy she had been holding back into the surrounding air. “No matter how many times I see it, that face is just unbelievable.” “That is a tragedy caused by the shallow knowledge of the cosmos held by Cousin, a typical Earthling.” Erio mocked Makoto with seamless delivery, as if reciting a prologue to a play. Her tone was far too detached and circuitous to sound like a genuine insult. Makoto, in turn, merely brushed it off with his usual unserious attitude. “Oh, really? Whatever. At least I can eat without getting food on my futon.” “I shall reluctantly reveal my face, solely to prevent any further multi-dimensional contact with Cousin.” “Is that so? Sorry for forcing you into a compromise.” Makoto chuckled, his shoulders shaking. He felt as though he had taken one step closer to becoming a true inhabitant of Earth. As Makoto let a smirk curl his lips, feeling that trivial sense of satisfaction, he sensed a gaze upon him. When he looked up, his eyes met Meme’s. A bright smile spread across Meme’s face. She seemed to be savouring the sight before her, much like someone slowly chewing on a piece of bread. Embarrassed by the way she gazed at him with such warmth, Makoto averted his eyes. “Now, now, now.” “W-what is it?” “The ‘ma’ in ‘Mako-kun’ is the ‘ma’ in ‘sex demon<ref>“Demon” is pronounced ''ma''.</ref>’!” “Are you trying to pick a fight with my parents?!…Good grief, you could have just said thank you like a normal person.” Knowing full well that such an action would only cause trouble, Makoto grumbled with a sense of satisfaction. The taste of the bitten bread was deeply flavourful, depending on whether it was the homemade butter or his current mood that dominated. However, such weekends were always undone by the start of the following week. The very next day, Makoto found himself exposed as the centre of classroom gossip from early morning. “Oh my, oh my…” While he wasn’t gripped by intense fear, the reality he had imagined descended upon him. The content of the rumours was exactly what he feared: “Makoto was carrying Touwa Erio in his bicycle basket.” As fragments of this reached his ears, he grasped the situation by weighing them against the atmosphere in the classroom. A cold feeling filled his heart as he thought that it had spread unexpectedly fast. There was no doubt that the one who spread it was a boy he had passed on Saturday night. When Makoto looked toward him, the boy stared back at him with a look of bewilderment. As for Makoto, no thought other than “Oh dear” came to mind, and he found himself unable to move. Makoto rested his cheek on his hand as he watched the unfolding situation. It was rare for him to find the time leading up to morning homeroom feeling so long. He glanced toward Ryuuko’s seat, but she had not yet appeared in the classroom, perhaps because she was participating in morning practice for her club. When he looked behind him, he saw Maekawa, though she seemed absorbed in a paperback book. Makoto felt a pang of envy when he realised that the book in Maekawa’s hands was the second volume of ''The Time Ships''. “I wish she would lend me the first volume… even the online stores are out of new copies of that one,” he muttered to himself, closing his eyes. He reflected on his exchange with Erio, wondering if he had been too reckless. Even though he knew it was a bad idea, he found himself unable to act with true awareness until he had tasted something fatal. Makoto laughed at his own naive perception, a classic example of human error. He had always believed himself to be quite capable, but this time, that self-confidence had completely vanished. Perhaps because Makoto kept his eyes closed and his body tensed, no one approached him until the homeroom teacher arrived. Ryuuko slid into the classroom just before the teacher did, and while she tilted her head at the peculiar atmosphere surrounding Makoto, she made no specific mention of it. Makoto felt a slight sense of peace watching her tranquil profile thinking that he could hardly imagine her attitude ever changing so drastically. He also felt a part of him simply didn’t want to know what would happen if she did. Things began to move during the lunch break. As he was putting away his textbooks and writing utensils from third period into his desk drawer, “Hey.” A boy’s voice spoke. He was addressing Makoto. Makoto realised who it was. “Here it comes,” Makoto thought, inhaling deeply while keeping his head bowed. He had already predicted what kind of question was coming; all that remained was to provide the answer he had prepared in advance. And yet, Makoto could not lift his head, as if finding it an impossible task. As if losing his patience, the boy threw the continuation of his sentence toward him. “Are you, like, a friend of Touwa Erio or something?” The question was exactly as Makoto had predicted. Makoto lifted his face then. And then. With a composed expression, he told a lie. “Huh? What are you talking about?” Even though it was his own voice, it did not make his ears or his bones, or anything else, tremble. The moment the words left his mouth, Makoto’s head felt as though it were collapsing. At least, in Makoto’s own perception, the left side of his brain felt heavy, as if it had been crushed. The male student standing before him drifted into the distance, and the outlines of the classroom grew blurred. Makoto lost all sense of what kind of expression he was wearing. The boy continued to press him, trying to extract an answer. “No, I mean, I saw it. I saw Touwa in that basket.” “Hmm? I told you, what are you talking about? Who even is this Touwa?” Makoto’s mind went completely blank. The reality before his eyes grew increasingly thin, as if a translucent film had been stretched between him and the boy. His head swam, as if his inner ear had suddenly malfunctioned. “I just moved here, you know. I don’t really know this town very well.” The words themselves weren’t a lie. However, Makoto felt, with deep certainty, that he was telling a massive lie to his own heart. Realising his own limits, he stood up from his seat. “I have to go buy some food. Well, see ya.” As if fleeing, Makoto headed toward the classroom entrance, though he took care not to walk too quickly. Without clearing the suspicion or simply admitting the truth, he left the scene, remaining stuck in a state of half-measures. On his way, his eyes met Ryuuko’s. However, she didn’t seem to grasp what was happening and merely widened her eyes in surprise. For some reason, Makoto felt apologetic, so he flashed a forced smile before stepping out into the hallway. As soon as he reached the hallway, Makoto clutched his abdomen. He felt unwell. He was truly feeling nauseated. After taking only a few steps down the corridor, Makoto collapsed forward. The students in the hallway, including those from other classes, began to stir with commotion. As his cheek pressed against the cold floor, his condition improved slightly. Makoto stood up immediately and began walking again, telling those around him, “I’m fine, I’m fine.” Once he reached the stairs, Makoto admitted to himself that he was in shock. Makoto laughed from the bottom of his heart, realising that he had escaped into a lie, just as he had been exasperated by Erio’s lie about the alien. After school that day, Makoto decided to make a detour to a bookshop. It didn’t even have to be a bookshop, as long as it helped him kill time. Driven by awkwardness, he found himself refusing to head straight back to the Touwa family. Consequently, he continued to pedal forward aimlessly, without even knowing the route properly. Makoto eventually brought his bicycle to a halt in front of a bookstore with a red door, located on the first floor of an apartment building. Several bicycles, their rear wheels already adorned with inspection stickers, were parked in front of the shop. Peering through the glass exterior, he saw a boy in a school uniform stationed in front of the manga shelves. Though he hesitated, Makoto passed through the automatic doors. Perhaps because of the high outdoor temperature, the air inside the shop felt heavy with heat, creating an atmosphere that made it difficult to linger. Makoto moved through the store, steering clear of the manga section, and came to a stop in front of the magazine corner. He picked up a magazine featuring the name of a novelist he liked printed on the cover and began flipping through the pages at random. “……Hum?” As if following Makoto, Maekawa entered the bookshop. She was in her school uniform, clearly on her way home. Makoto watched Maekawa, wondering if she lived somewhere nearby. After picking up a magazine, Maekawa stood beside him, maintaining a slight distance. When Makoto attempted to look up, Maekawa stopped him. “Keep the conversation going without taking your eyes off the magazine, transfer student.” “…Why?” “It sounds cool, like an intelligence officer’s report.” At Maekawa’s reasoning, Makoto was almost on the verge of agreeing, “Indeed.” However, the magazine Maekawa had opened was ''Orange Page'', while Makoto’s was ''Bessatsu Bungeishunju''<ref>''Orange Page'' is a cooking magazine. ''Bessatsu Bungeishunju'' is a literary magazine.</ref>. It lacked a certain level of sophistication. “The Touwa matter became public relatively quickly, didn’t it?” Maekawa remarked as she flipped to a page featuring a “Spring Vegetable Special.” “It couldn’t be helped; it was out in the open like anything else. We hadn’t taken any precautions or anything.” “But you did lie, though.” Makoto’s throat tightened. He glanced at Maekawa but quickly returned his eyes to the pages. “Are you indecisive, transfer student? Or are you not even thinking at all?” “As you say.” “But what left an impression on me was that look on your face, like you regretted it right after you lied.” This time, he pulled his face away from the magazine and turned properly toward Maekawa. Maekawa turned toward Makoto as well and grinned. “That’s amazing. You’ve got great powers of observation.” “You can call me the great detective, Maekawa Conan<ref>A reference to the manga ''Detective Conan''.</ref>, if you like.” “I thought you were supposed to be Maekawa-san the Ever-Thoughtful…” Makoto gave a wry smile. He flipped a page without even reading it. Maekawa was doing something similar. “So, what do you intend to do? About Touwa?” “What do you mean?” “Don’t play dumb, transfer student.” “Hmm… well, I don’t know. What should I do?” Makoto flipped another page. Maekawa smiled, as if watching over a sulking child. “Whether to stay involved with Touwa or to pull away. Whether to continue with a peaceful life with your classmates or to choose Touwa.” Maekawa voiced the dilemma Makoto was facing. Makoto glanced at the backs of the boys in the manga section and sighed. “You can’t have both, right?” “There’s that saying about chasing two rabbits. But I wonder what kind of mindset views Touwa and your classmates as the same rabbit.” Maekawa narrowed her eyes. Her gaze, fixed on the promotional page for a new jam, grew sharp. “Touwa is clearly a different species from us, just from appearances alone.” “…A different species, huh? I guess she is.” Was that why she kept introducing herself as an alien? Was her escape route something born from her very appearance? “Maekawa-san, are you interested in things like aliens?” “Not really. Though I did used to like those special programmes about dissecting aliens.” “Then, do you think aliens actually exist?” “Touwa has been called an alien since a long time ago. Mostly by the girls in class who were jealous of her looks.” Maekawa provided that information while subtly evading the question. Then, she glanced sideways at Makoto. “Transfer student, will you join the aliens’ side?” At Maekawa’s question, Makoto bit the corner of his lip. He feigned sleepy, half-lidded eyes, but internally, he could not remain calm. The scent, like an air freshener drifting through the shop, grated on his nerves. Even if he had known what he truly wanted to do, putting it into practice would not have been easy. “Fu fu fu, feel free to agonise over it, young man.” “…Maekawa-san, we’re the same age, aren’t we?” Maekawa avoided Makoto’s question with a suggestive laugh. “I’ll keep my distance and watch to see which planet you decide to belong to, transfer student.” Maekawa closed her magazine with a fearless smile. It seemed she had no interest in the bookshop from the very beginning. “You came here just to tell me this? Or rather, did you follow me?” “Indeed, transfer student. I decided to shadow you as you were running quite erratically. Given that manner of movement, I was certain that you were trying to notice my tail and lose me, but perhaps I was mistaken. I am Maekawa-san, the Ever-skillful spy.” Makoto scratched his nose, admitting he hadn’t noticed at all. He hadn’t possessed the luxury of being mindful of his surroundings just then. The reason his running had become so chaotic was simply that he had lost his way. “Man, it’s pretty wild that just browsing a magazine earns you two new nicknames.” While it was meant sarcastically by Makoto, Maekawa seemed to take it as a compliment. She looked quite proud of herself. “Well, since I’m done with my business, I’m going home. I have chores to help with at the house.” After Maekawa returned the magazine to its original place, she started to wave and leave. “Ah, wait a moment.” Makoto called out to her. He had remembered that he had some important business with Maekawa. “Um, Maekawa-san.” “What is it?” Hiding his face behind the magazine, Makoto mumbled his request. “…I was wondering if you could tell me the way back from here.” A few seconds later, Makoto heard Maekawa burst into laughter, seemingly forgetting that they were still inside the bookshop, as if it were happening from a great distance. “As long as I make it this far, I’ll be fine. Thank you. Heh heh…” “You don’t have to be so formal, wah ha ha!” In front of the Touwa Family house, Makoto and Maekawa parted ways. In the end, she had guided him from the bookshop all the way to the front of his house. “Now then. I wonder if she’s around.” After parking his bicycle in the shed, Makoto looked up at the Touwa Family house from in front of the entrance. The windows on the second floor were both closed, and the curtains were drawn. He had never seen the curtains or windows in Erio’s room left open. Adjusting the grip on his bag, Makoto placed his hand on the door of the Touwa house. The door slid open without any resistance. “That means she’s here. She doesn’t give much thought to security.” He stepped inside and locked the door behind him. He took off his shoes and stepped into the hallway. It seemed Meme had not returned yet. It was a late thought, but he wondered what kind of work she actually did. While pondering this, Makoto climbed the stairs and headed toward his own room. On his way, he peeked into Erio’s room, but it was empty. After staring at the school uniform hanging on the wall for a moment, Makoto continued down the second-floor hallway toward his room. There, his eyes and feet came to a sudden halt. “Gah!” There was another futon on Makoto’s bed. To be precise, a girl was lying there, bundled up in one. Responding to Makoto’s voice, Erio slowly began to stir. The way she wiggled around, moving along with the futon, made her look like a giant caterpillar. Erio sat up on the bed and let out a sound that served as a greeting: “Mofuu.” “I’m home. Now, why are you in my room?” Makoto asked Erio the question after setting his bag down on the desk. He didn’t really want to look her in the face just then, but there was something he felt he needed to say before he ran away. “Mofufuuu.” “Sure, sure.” Makoto sat down next to Erio. Then, he remembered what had happened in the classroom. “…Mm.” He closed his eyes, thought for a moment, and then opened them again. Erio hadn’t been there at that moment. Nevertheless, an apology escaped Makoto’s lips. “…I’m sorry.” He stroked the hair that was spilling out from the futon. Erio tilted her body to the left and let out a confused, “Mofu?” “Don’t worry about it.” “Mofumofu.” It sounded as if she were telling him not to be so unreasonable. While stroking her hair, Makoto posed a question into the depths of the futon. “Hey, what does space mean to you?” When he asked that, Erio thrust her face forward as if to push Makoto’s hand away. Then, she answered instantly. “It is my homeland. The place I will return to once I have finished all my work.” She spoke of it as if she were referring to heaven. Makoto thought to himself that she was being absurd and shook his head. “Hmm… Then, is Meme-san an alien too? From space?” Erio looked away. She seemed to have no intention of answering, keeping her face toward the wall with a composed expression. “You always do this whenever a question gets too inconvenient.” Makoto laughed, lightly shaking the hand that still rested on Erio’s head. Erio turned her head back. “What is space to you, Cousin?” Her voice was slightly less spaced-out than usual. Makoto sensed this change and turned his eyes toward the window. Perhaps because they had taken a detour, it was already evening outside, and the setting sun was searing the windowpane. The small birds flying against the sunlight appeared black in the backlight, and every bird perched on the power lines looked like a crow. “To me? Hmm, space?… It’s like a ''mikoshi''<ref>A ''mikoshi'' is a portable shrine that is paraded around the streets during festivals.</ref>.” “A ''mikoshi''?” “It’s too heavy to carry alone, but carrying it with everyone else is worth a romance.” Whether it was the edge of the universe or the bottom of the deep sea, being all alone was lonely. Makoto gave that unique response, imbuing it with such a sentiment. In response to that answer, Erio paused for a few beats and then tucked her chin. “Sure, sure.” Erio nodded smallly several times. Makoto, who had been gazing aimlessly at her face, suddenly widened his eyes. For a fleeting moment, it had looked as though Erio was smiling. But even as he peered closely, Erio had already returned to a featureless expression, revealing no hint of her emotions. Her beauty was so striking that it felt unnatural for her to even be blinking, as she lay curled in her futon with only her face visible. Makoto withdrew his hand from Erio’s hair and lifted himself up from the bed. Then, he hurried out of the room. He felt a sense of frustration toward himself for running away before she could even invite him to the sea. A week had passed since that incident. During that time, Makoto had not gone to the sea with Erio. One way or another, he had been avoiding her. While no rumours from school reached his ears, everyone had, in a sense, begun to keep their distance. Since she was a transfer student from elsewhere to begin with, it didn’t much matter whether she was there or not. Makoto understood this, and he chose to spend his days at school without speaking to anyone as much as possible. He knew he couldn’t possibly feel good or have any fun, but he figured it was better than having the situation escalate into total social ostracisation. …He had been thinking, but something happened during lunch that day that proved a little difficult for Makoto to bear. As usual, Makoto was eating lunch alone. He was chewing slowly on a piece of tough twist bread. Whether it was because she saw him like that, or perhaps she had been waiting for an opportunity, Ryuuko, who sat near the classroom entrance, leaned forward before opening her lunch box with her friends and attempted to beckon to him, calling out, “Heeey…” However, a friend sitting beside her naturally pulled Ryuuko’s hand back, causing her to sit down quietly as if nothing had happened. Ryuuko, with only her hand dangling aimlessly, looked back and forth between her friend and Makoto. Makoto pretended not to notice her gaze and continued to bite into his bread in silence. “Hmm… it’s such a waste, isn’t it?” She narrowed her eyes, as if the things that would be lost if things continued this way were becoming painfully apparent. Resting her chin on her hand, Makoto swallowed the bread. His friend’s reaction was so natural that, to Makoto, the atmosphere of the classroom, so accustomed to such behaviour, felt deeply unsettling. Someone else had been isolated here, just like he had been before. And Makoto knew exactly why. “…………” The one fortunate thing for Makoto was that nothing had truly begun yet. School life had not yet become fully hectic, nor did he share that heavy, almost damp sort of intimacy with the other students. That was precisely why he had to decide: to start or to take another path. Makoto remained lost in thought throughout the classes that followed. Within him, two wheels turned like those of a bicycle. However, the difference between these wheels and those of a bicycle was that the two were not interconnected. He could not rotate both at once. The only directions Makoto could move were forward or backward; he had only one choice between the two. And even then, it meant pushing forward on a unicycle. It was that time of day, after returning from school and finishing dinner and a bath, when everything felt most peaceful. Makoto lay stretched out on his bed in his room. Holding a paperback in one hand, he rolled over. In the next room, Erio remained quiet, as if sulking in her sleep. Right after he had returned, this exchange had taken place: ''“Cousin, sea.”'' ''“…You abbreviated so much that it’s basically just a noun.”'' When Makoto entered the Touwa Family entrance, Erio was waiting for him by his side. Her light blue hair had been visible through the glass even from the outside, so it had been easy to anticipate her presence. Makoto let out a sigh as he took off his shoes. ''“I’ll pass. I’m a little tired.”'' ''“You said the exact same thing yesterday, Cousin. I feel the shallowness of the human race through your poverty of vocabulary.”'' Erio followed behind Makoto’s back. Her hair swayed in time with her slightly rhythmic, side-to-side gait. Particles danced in the air. As Makoto turned around, drawn by that light, his heart felt as though it might falter. ''“What is it you want to do, going to the ocean every single day?”'' He had failed to fly, time and time again. He swallowed those words and waited to see how Erio would react. ''“I explained this before. This is my duty as the Earth Mediator Auditor.”'' ''“Hasn’t your title changed from before?”'' Makoto and Erio ascended the stairs. He predicted she intended to follow him all the way to his room, so he stopped once they reached the second-floor hallway. Erio stopped as well, peering intently into Makoto’s eyes. As they locked eyes, Makoto felt every complaint, every grievance, and everything else melt away in the back of his throat. ''“It’s not even about the sea. Going out with you is… how should I put it…”'' ''“The way Cousin explains things is the complete opposite of logical and impossible to understand.”'' ''“You’ll regret it if I actually start being honest with you.”'' Makoto narrowed his eyes, though not enough to glare. Erio maintained her expressionless ''façade'', but the frequency of her blinking increased. Then, noticing that her right fist was clenching as if she were gripped by some anxiety, Makoto averted his eyes. ''“Anyway, I’m not going. You should just stay quietly in your room, too.”'' As if issuing an order, Makoto fled to his own room. Makoto did not possess any conviction that what he was doing was right. Having rejected Erio’s invitation, Makoto’s heart felt somewhat turbulent. However, that was not due to Erio’s attitude but largely due to his own words. He thought that perhaps he should make his return time much later from now on. The contents of his paperback book failed to register in his mind as he dwelled on such thoughts. He had become someone who found it difficult to refuse whenever Erio pleaded with him. It was precisely because he acknowledged that fact that Makoto’s stomach ached from the stress. Then, around the time the moon in the night sky was hidden by the clouds, there was a loud, clattering sound of someone running up the stairs. “Mako-kun! Your Meme-tan has arrived!” “…Meme-san, you don’t belong to anyone.” Makoto retorted listlessly, extracting a good line he had read in his paperback. However, his words broke off halfway through, losing all meaning. Makoto froze, his body caught in the middle of sitting up. Meme, who had burst into the room, was dressed in nothing but a single bath towel wrapped around her naked body. As Makoto leaped up, he folded his paperback without even placing a bookmark in it. Half of what he had read hadn’t even entered his head anyway. He told himself he should probably read it again. But that was merely an excuse; in truth, he was simply shaken. “W-what is with that outfit!” Makoto shouted reflexively. As Meme crept closer, he recoiled across the bed. “Fan service.” “Who are you even trying to impress?! There’s no one else here but me!” “Look at you, Mako-kun, having a full conversation with yourself. How impressive.” “Y-you exshibishionisht.” In his state of agitation, his tongue failed him. Meme knitted her brows into a pout. “My, how rude. I usually wander around naked after my bath. If anything, I’m being quite modest today. I’m being considerate of Mako-kun, since you’re under eighteen, even though I’m a Meme-tan suitable for all ages.” Meme sprawled out across the floor. Perhaps because she had just stepped out of the bath, her feet were bright red all the way to her toes. “It’s hot. Mako-kun, open the windows all the way.” Fanning her face with her hand, Meme gave Makoto an instruction. Reluctantly, Makoto opened the windows just as she had asked. The clouds were thick today, and they moved swiftly across the sky. The wind was strong, so the windows had been kept closed to avoid any disturbance to reading. Soon, however, that wind began to drift inside. The temperature was low for spring, and to Makoto, whose body temperature had settled, it felt quite chilly. Looking back, Makoto felt a sensation akin to dread, fearing that the temperature might suddenly surge. Taking a deep breath, he turned around. Meme sat with her legs spread wide, leaving even the inner parts of her thighs uncovered. There wasn’t a single wrinkle to be seen on skin that was supposed to be forty years old this year, and Makoto remained on guard, thinking it was utterly suspicious. The only reason his mind could manage to function with even a shred of composure was because he was so preoccupied by that very indecency. “Um, do you need something?” “I came to see Mako-kun. Could there be any other reason?” “Oh, you won’t fool me just by saying something smooth.” But Makoto was flinching deep down. As Meme sat up, droplets of water spilt from her hair. “Whoops, my foot slipped!” Meme lunged at Makoto with a completely monotone voice. In truth, it was her knee that had pushed off the floor, so her foot hadn’t slipped at all. Makoto was unable to escape the sudden attack and was caught helplessly. “Guh… guh-geee…” A sound like a death rattle escaped Makoto’s mouth. Taking advantage of that moment, Meme wrapped her arms around his back and hugged him tightly. He experienced the illusion that his spine wasn’t breaking but melting. A squelching sound echoed in his head. “Warm and cosy.” “Ah, weren’t you hot?” Unpleasant beads of sweat began to form on Makoto’s scalp. Since Meme was wearing nothing but a bath towel wrapped around her body, her heated body temperature was transmitted directly to him. On top of that, the rare, incredible softness pressed against the front of his body made the words “surrounded on all sides” dance through his mind. He didn’t even have the mental capacity to wonder if he was using the idiom incorrectly. “Something mysterious whispered to me, saying, ‘Please also include a drawing of you hugging Mako-kun right here.’” She was the mysterious one. Before those words could even be processed, Meme rested her chin on Makoto’s shoulder and breathed into his ear. A pathetic whimper escaped Makoto, and his heartbeat instantly grew frantic. “So, I want to talk about something a bit more serious.” “L-like a marriage proposal!?” His voice cracked so badly it was practically comedic. However, Meme did not laugh at him; instead, she bowed her head. “I’m sorry for making you worry about Erio.” The tone of Meme’s voice transformed instantly. Caught up in the change, Makoto’s hazy vision finally regained its focus. He began to feel the breeze blowing through the window against his cheek. The wind tickled the back of his neck, feeling pleasant against his flushed skin. The tension left Makoto’s shoulders, and his turbulent desires subsided, as if they had been tidily put away. “…The cat’s out of the bag?” Makoto relaxed the tension in his arms, his cheeks and the corners of his eyes softening. The arm resting against his back moved with a heavy, kneading motion. “There is nothing that Meme-tan doesn’t know.” “…Then you should go ahead and solve your daughter’s problems.” “Even if I know about them, there are some things I simply cannot change.” Her words were detached, carrying a hint of resignation that made Makoto sense the weight of her being an “adult”. “I know I’ve asked you to look after Erio, but you don’t have to push yourself.” With that, Meme patted Makoto on the back. Makoto let out a light cough and closed his eyes. Was he pushing himself too hard? The question circled through his mind. “That was all I wanted to say.” ''Is that so?'' he almost replied, but Makoto swallowed the words instead. Instead, he let out a complaint about her daughter to his mother. “Your daughter is quite a coward, you know.” He said this with a weak, hollow laugh. “When she’s that beautiful, it’s hard to treat her coldly.” That was Makoto’s honest, unfiltered thought. If, for example, Erio had possessed an ugly face, he wouldn’t have tried to involve himself with her more than necessary. He probably would have been able to cut her off quickly, even if he struggled with the decision. Makoto did not deny that. However, the reality was that Erio was a complete beauty. “That’s why I suffer, and why my stomach aches.” Occasionally, one would come across opinions like this. In media such as light novels and manga, when the protagonist is male, his companion is usually a beautiful girl. Such content criticised this trope, saying, “Another beautiful girl?” or “Write a story without a beautiful girl once in a while; it’s unnatural.” However, Makoto viewed it from the opposite perspective. He believed that because she was a beautiful girl, people appeared who wished to save her, and thus, the stories that deserved to be told were born. “Hmm, so that means Mako-kun will save Meme-tan as well, then.” I had been talking about a beautiful girl. As if waiting for the perfect moment to interrupt, Meme pressed her chest firmly against Makoto. Makoto found himself unable to even formulate a rebuttal, as if something were welling up in the back of his throat. “I have to give Mako-kun a reward for that.” As she said this, Meme released Makoto and rolled dramatically across the futon. It brought to mind the sight of a wild boar rolling in the mud. “Roll, roll!” “What on earth are you doing?” “I’m going to spread the scent of a freshly bathed Meme-tan everywhere, so make sure to sniff me plenty when you go to sleep!” “Get, out!” I chased Meme away. She let out a soft giggle, as if she could see right through Makoto’s flustered state, and left the room obediently. “Good grief… Ah, the window is open. What a waste… It’s freezing.” He turned back and closed the window. The airflow in the room grew gentle. Makoto looked down at the bed from where he knelt on both knees. He pressed his hand against his nose to stop it from twitching. “…………” Without a word, he moved away and sat in a chair. He opened a reference book at random and cast a glance toward the bed. “…………” He closed the book. Creeping toward the entrance of the room, he checked the hallway. Meme was nowhere to be seen. “…………” Makoto returned to the bed, silencing his footsteps by walking on his tiptoes. He dropped to one knee and, with the reverence of a knight taking the hand of the one to whom he pledged his loyalty, lifted the edge of the duvet. Then, he released his hold on his nose and leaned his face closer. “Hey, hey, if you sniff it now, there won’t be anything left for when you go to sleep.” “Gyaah!” Meme peeked her head out from the hallway and scolded him. Makoto’s spine and heart both jolted upright. “A-a ''youkai''! Where were you hiding?!” “I was lurking beneath the stairs, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.” “You’re genuinely raring to go, aren’t you?!” “I believed in you, Mako-kun!” “Eeeeeeek!” On this night, a memory was born that Makoto wished he could isolate, even if it meant splitting his brain into three separate parts. At school the following day, Makoto spent his time until after classes without engaging in any particular conversations with anyone. The way people treated him like he was walking on eggshells continued, and the strained atmosphere with those around him remained unchanged. As long as the rumours did not completely clear, this state of affairs would likely persist. He had become quite accustomed to a silence that was different from the one he had experienced when he was at a school in a country where he couldn’t understand the language. Makoto felt his own adaptability to be both a blessing and a curse. He knew that if he adapted too much, he would lose the ability to take action. ''“Niwa-chi, I wonder if you made about a hundred friends<ref>A reference to the children’s song ''Ichinensei ni nattara'' (“When I become a first grader”). The lyrics go something like, “When I become a first grader, I wonder if I can make 100 friends”.</ref> by now?”'' “One wrong move and it’s going to swing straight into the negatives.” Makoto closed his paperback while grumbling about the email he had received. The sunlight burnt through the windows, making the light and glass appear to melt into one another. The classroom, devoid of any students other than Makoto, sat desolate, like an overturned toy box that had been emptied of its contents. Makoto reached his hand toward the light that dyed the room in scarlet. His fingertips and nails were exposed to a gentle warmth, and the temperature difference sent goosebumps across his skin. Even after classes had ended, Makoto remained alone, killing time in the classroom. He found it difficult to leave because he felt that if he came face-to-face with Erio, he might end up saying something unnecessary. Having finished two paperbacks, the clock above the blackboard pointed to just past five in the afternoon. Only then did Makoto finally finish his futile struggle and stand up from his seat. When he stepped into the hallway, orange clouds spread smoothly outside the windows. Shadows like stains were forming in the corners of the walls, looking as if fragments of the night were scattering about. Makoto walked down the stairs and toward his shoe locker, treading as if to crush the parts of the floor that the light failed to reach that day. He braced himself, wondering if someone might have played a prank on the contents of his locker, but his shoes were exactly as he had left them that morning. Feeling relieved, Makoto changed his footwear. “Gotcha!” “Humm?” At the distant shout, Makoto looked up. Ryuuko, dressed in her gym uniform, stood before the entrance to the gymnasium, repeatedly making grand motions as if firing a pistol at him. “Whoa, you got me… Is it fine like that?” Makoto leaned back as if he had been shot, letting out a wry smile to hide his embarrassment. Noticing his expression, Ryuuko ran toward him at full speed and peered closely into his eyes. Makoto recoiled, trembling under her gaze. Even for someone like Ryuuko, when a classmate suddenly spoke to them like that, it was natural to feel a momentary sense of wariness. As for Ryuuko, she simply laughed as brightly as she always had, showing no sign of contempt toward Makoto. “Doesn’t it make your heart flutter?” “Huh?” “You know, like, a ''femme fatale'' striking with a *bang* type of thing?” “It only looked to me like a child playing with a toy pistol.” “Not a ''femme fatale''?” “Hmm, compared to my aunt, you still have a long way to go, in a good way.” “Is that so? What a shame.” Ryuuko made a show of being disappointed. However, she quickly pulled herself together and flashed Makoto a smile. Whether it was because she had just finished a club activity or not, sweat dripped from her forehead, and her hair was damp with moisture. “Niwa-kun, were you in a club?” “The go-home club. Ah, even though I’m at school this late, there’s no particular reason for it.” ‘Huuum. So, are you free?” “I was just about to head home, so I’m incredibly free.” Influenced by Ryuuko’s smile, Makoto’s guard began to fade. “Hey, so, want to play a little basketball?” Ryuuko beckoned to him from below with a “hey, hey” motion. It looked similar to the hand gestures used in the ''Tankou Bushi''<ref>''Tankou Bushi'' is a folk song that is often sung during bon dances.</ref> dance. “Basketball, you say?” “Yeah, '''one-on-one'''.” Ryuuko held up both of her index fingers and crossed them together. She thrust that “X” sign toward him. “Why?” “Fu fu fu, what can I say? Ryuuko-san is in the basketball club!” “I heard that before. Um, so, why play basketball?” “Mumu… It seems I am failing to communicate to you my true intent, Niwa-kun.” Ryuuko pressed her finger to her temple as if lost in thought. Makoto thought for a moment, organising his confusion. “Well, what I’m asking is, what is the reason you suddenly invited me to play basketball?” “Because I saw you just as you were leaving the gym.” “…I see. Basketball, huh?” Makoto gave up on trying to reach a mutual understanding and shifted his focus to whether or not he was going to play basketball. “Club activities are already over, so the gym is empty.” she added, perhaps trying to be considerate of him. “I see,” Makoto thought, glancing around the gymnasium. “The only time I’ve ever played basketball was in class, though.” “Just leave it to me. I’m going to wipe the floor with you, Ryuuko-san.” “…Um, I didn’t ask you to beat an amateur to a pulp.” “But Ryuuko-san is just a benchwarmer. I play the fool. If I don’t play against an amateur like Niwa-kun, how can I secure a landslide victory? Ryuuko-san is a strategist!” “Yeah, yeah, Ryuushi-san, that’s sneaky.” “I told ya, I’m Ryuuko. Ok, let’s go!” Ryuuko urged him toward the gymnasium. Makoto glanced up at the sun hanging in the sky and decided to accept her invitation. He nodded for mainly three reasons: he had not spoken to a classmate in a while, he was not being treated coldly, and it would help pass the time. However, a shadow crossed his face. “Ah, Ryuushi-san, hey…” As they walked toward the gymnasium, he spoke to Ryuuko hesitantly. She turned back with a smile. “Yes?” “Uh, well…” She was talking to him so casually, but was she really okay? Makoto struggled to find the words to ask that. If he became friendly with someone who was being distanced from their classmates, that social standing would become contagious. Makoto was well aware of this, but because he was the very person in question, his tongue felt heavy. “…No, actually, never mind.” “Nunu, trying to be suggestive, are you?” “If I win, give me something.” “Nununu, how materialistic.” They continued their playful banter as they moved together toward the front of the gymnasium. The students who had been working hard at their club activities on the grounds had begun tidying up, with the exception of the track and field club, who were still running around the track. Glancing at them from the corner of his eye, Makoto entered the gymnasium. Since PE classes were being held outdoors at the moment, this was only the second time he had entered the building since the opening ceremony. Inside the gymnasium, the shadows were even deeper than they were outside. The windows on the second floor were tightly closed with curtains, blocking out even the setting sun, leaving only the doorway they had entered through as a source of light. The empty gymnasium was enveloped in a sense of desolation, as if it were failing to fulfil its purpose, making the air feel somewhat chilly. That was the impression Makoto received, but Ryuuko, feeling quite the opposite, began to frolic excitedly. “It feels so good to have the whole gymnasium just for me.” “Just for you? There are two of us here.” Ignoring Makoto’s remark, Ryuuko ran off and retrieved a basketball from the equipment shed, which had not yet been locked. She returned while dribbling as she walked, and the sound of the ball bouncing echoed through the empty gymnasium. The sound was thick and dull, carrying a strength that seemed to vibrate the air as it spread into the four corners of the room. In the meantime, Makoto took off his jacket and placed it in a corner along with his bag. He also took off his socks, fearing he might slip and fall. As he curled and uncurled his toes, which had been cramped inside his socks, Makoto’s mind drifted to Erio. Erio was always barefoot, and only the soles of her feet failed to shine. She wasn’t floating in mid-air. Makoto muttered that obvious fact to himself. “Oh, Niwa-kun, looks like you’re all fired up, too. Fu fu fu, it reminds me of Ryuuko-san when I first joined the club…” For some reason, Ryuuko looked up at the podium with a distant expression. Makoto smiled vaguely while performing squats as a warm-up. “Are you not feeling motivated right now?” “I’m totally pumped!” Just what on earth had she been remembering? After finishing his leg stretches, Makoto followed up with another question. “Is basketball fun?” “Yeah, it’s fun. Especially like this…” As she spoke, Ryuuko held the ball up in front of her forehead. “…when I decide to make the shot.” Completing her sentence, she released the ball toward the hoop. Following the ball with his eyes, he watched it trace a perfect arc before passing through the net without touching a single thing. [[File:DTS_Vol_SF_18.jpg|thumb|Following the ball with his eyes, he watched it trace a perfect arc before passing through the net without touching a single thing.]] “That was so cool.” “Alright, Ryuuko-san takes the lead.” “Wait, did it already start?” Makoto asked in surprise as he picked up the rolling ball. Ryuuko crossed her arms and raised her voice. “The battle begins even before the referee’s whistle blows!…Or so it said in a manga.” “It probably had a completely different meaning. But if that’s how you want to do it…” Makoto said, turning back toward the basket under the hoop and preparing the ball. He extended his arm and released a shot aimed at the rim, in his own way. “Ah.” It bounced off the backboard and rolled to the right. “Whoa, you missed that shoot… you’re such a total beginner!” Ryuuko, who had circled around to retrieve the ball, gave him a thumbs-up. Makoto couldn’t bring himself to return the gesture. “I told you, I don’t even know the rules.” “Well, that’s a relief. I was secretly worried that you might be one of those people. Like imagine Niwa-kun, a famous basketball player before transferring schools, but who is now in the Home Economics Club due to some mysterious past.” “You’ve been reading too much manga.” Makoto shook his head as he caught the ball Ryuuko passed to him. I wasn’t that kind of special person. “The only thing that was special was my…” As he muttered that, a shade of light blue flickered in Makoto’s vision. He looked around as if guided by that colour, but the figure he had envisioned was nowhere to be found. As if to dispel a vivid hallucination, Makoto dribbled the ball with force. While dribbling, he kept a slight distance from the goal. The path ahead was different from the night; it was shrouded in a darkness that blocked all light, instilling him with an indescribable sense of anxiety. It felt just like the path he was currently walking. Makoto felt a sense of relief when he realised that Ryuuko was standing there, waiting for him once he stopped and turned around. Needless to say, the one-on-one was a complete victory for Ryuuko. Though they had not established any formal rules, the ball bounced, was thrown, and continued to shake the net for more than enough time to leave Makoto with a profound sense of defeat. “Ho-ho-i, Uho-ho-i.” Ryuuko held the ball aloft, laughing gleefully. Makoto and the others sat in a row along the gymnasium wall. Makoto had stretched his legs out; he was breathless, and even the arm he used to wipe the sweat from his forehead was damp with perspiration. The light streaming in from the entrance on the left had grown even weaker than it had been before they started playing basketball. When Makoto tilted his chin up to check the gymnasium clock, it was past five-thirty. It seemed they had been running around for just under thirty minutes. “The nectar of victory tastes salty, doesn’t it?” “…The taste of defeat is salty, too.” Makoto grumbled as he licked the saltiness he felt at the corner of his lips. The bouncing of the ball ceased, replaced by a ringing in his ears. A sense of lethargy enveloped his entire body, and his vision grew heavy. That fatigue, which felt as though it might pull his eyelids shut and lull him to sleep, felt somewhat pleasant to him. After wiping her sweat with the fabric of her jersey, Ryuuko readjusted her seating position and looked toward Makoto. With her back pressed against the wall and her legs stretched out, the way she hugged the ball made her look like a stuffed animal. “What are your hobbies?” Ryuuko brought up the topic somewhat abruptly. Scratching his nose, Makoto thought it felt a bit like an arranged marriage interview. “Looking at images of deep-sea fish on the internet, I guess.” “Do you like fish?” “More deep-sea creatures than fish. A lot of them have strange appearances, so there’s a sense of romance to them.” “Is that so? I prefer things like vegetables and fruit.” There seemed to be a discrepancy in how they evaluated likes and dislikes. While feeling exasperated, Makoto remembered Ryuuko’s lunch box from lunch break some time ago. He decided to ask her about it directly. “Are you a vegetarian, Ryuushi-san?” “I told ya, I’m Ryuuko. It’s not exactly that. If anything, I’m more of a fruitarian.” “…Japanese is such a hard language…” “I just prefer things like vegetables, but it’s not like I can’t eat meat. Though anything other than chicken or lamb might be a bit difficult for me.” “So, you’re not a fan of fat, then.” “That’s right. So why is meat like this!?” Ryuuko let out a groan and pinched her side. While it didn’t look to Makoto like there was enough excess fat for her to actually be bothered by it, he chose to avoid mentioning it. It was a high-difficulty manoeuvre for a man to bring up a woman’s weight. “So, what are your hobbies, Ryuushi-san?” “I told ya, it’s Ryuuko.” “I see. It’s to say what you just said.” “Noooo!” Ryuuko clutched her head as if in agony. It seemed to be a mere pose, as she recovered immediately. Holding the ball in both palms, Ryuuko lifted it up and spoke. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” “Yeah, I guess. People in clubs really do move differently, don’t they?” When Makoto praised her, Ryuuko stroked her cheek, looking somewhat bashful. “I still have a long way to go.” “Oh, Japanese people just love modesty, don’t they?” Makoto joked, though there was a hint of sincerity in his voice. He knew that such modesty wasn’t entirely genuine. “I hope you make the regular lineup.” “Oh, you bet!” “Yeah. I wonder if I would’ve joined the soccer club even now, if I’d had that kind of determination.” Makoto moved his right leg as if he were kicking something. He thought about whether he should kick a ball around when he got home for the first time in a while. Despite feeling the heavy weight of fatigue, a smile spread across Makoto’s cheeks as he made such plans. Ryuuko watched him out of the corner of her eye, then brought the ball down while wearing a bashful smile. And then. “So…” “Humm?” “How should I put it? Niwa-kun, are you friends with Touwa-san?” The topic was introduced so casually that, at first, Makoto didn’t even react. Ryuuko bounced the ball between her feet, and at that sound, the thin veil Makoto had been hallucinating before his eyes shattered. As if snapping back to his senses, Makoto understood the meaning of her words. “Ah, it was just a rumour. I heard that you and Touwa-san were, like, really close.” “…We aren’t friends, but, well, we are relatives.” Makoto nodded, looking somewhat perplexed. It felt somewhat painful to lie to Ryuuko. He had had enough of lies. What drifted through Makoto’s mind was the exchange that had taken place in the classroom nearly a week ago. “Relatives, huh? That was it? I see.” Ryuuko’s smile faded, and she scratched her cheek with a troubled expression. She was pinching the ball between her thighs, and Makoto’s eyes were fixed right there. Even to himself, Makoto felt exasperated by the vast discrepancy between the seriousness of his thoughts and where his eyes were wandering. “It’s become hard to even talk to you in class, Niwa-kun. Actually, I tried to talk to you, but my friends stopped me. I mean, I understand why Mickey and the others feel that way, though.” Ryuuko looked up at Makoto with an apologetic expression. Makoto waved his hand dismissively. “Well, Mickey-san and the others are right. You have good friends.” “Hmm, I wonder if they’re really right…” Ryuuko tilted her head, appearing unconvinced. Makoto understood, though he didn’t say it aloud, that she had likely invited him to play basketball because she wanted to talk about this. “Were you close with Erio, Ryuushi-san?” “Hmm, I wouldn’t say we were particularly close. I only met Touwa-san after we entered high school, and we weren’t together for very long. She gave me my nickname, though.” “That last part felt the most sincere.” “Are you getting along well with Touwa-san, Niwa-kun?” Ryuuko turned the question back on him. He assumed she meant the current Touwa-san. Makoto hesitated, unable to provide an answer. He couldn’t tell if simply acting together was enough to call them on good terms. “I wonder if there’s anyone who can actually get along with her as she is now.” “True, it might be difficult. But Niwa-kun, if word of this gets out, the suspicions surrounding you will be confirmed and you’ll be in trouble.” “…Yeah. Even just playing basketball will be an ordeal.” As Makoto shrugged, Ryuuko let out a small laugh. Glancing at that smile, Makoto blurted out a sudden question, as if in retaliation. “Hey, Ryuushi-san, are you interested in things like mysteries?” “Huh?” Perhaps because the question was so eccentric, Ryuuko’s mouth formed an circle. “You know, like the mysteries of the universe, or the secrets of the deep sea… stuff like that.” Makoto turned his face forward, feeling embarrassed by the way she was staring at his reaction. After a while, Ryuuko’s voice drifted into his right ear. “Like how you can wiggle your fingers right in front of your eyes.” “Heh?” Makoto let out a sound similar to his earlier reaction. Ryuuko was actually curling and extending her fingers right in front of him. Then, Ryuuko minutely moved her ear. “Or how your ear twitches if you apply pressure. It’s all so mysterious to me. I’m always thinking, ‘Why does that happen? It’s incredible.’” “The fact that they move?” “Yeah. How do I put it? It’s hard to describe the feeling, but being able to move my body feels like something happening to someone else, yet it feels like a miracle. I don’t know where the centre of my being is or what it is, but the fact that my fingertips and ears, which aren’t directly connected to it, can move is just, I don’t know, so mysterious.” Ryuuko answered regarding her own version of mystery, curling her fingers one by one. Makoto imitated her, folding his own fingers while feeling a quiet sense of moved emotion toward Ryuuko, who was able to answer such a question. “I also think it’s mysterious how the wind drifting in from the outside feels so pleasant right now.” “…I see.” Feeling as though it were a profound answer, Makoto closed his eyes, satisfied. He did not perform the tactless feat of digging deeper to test that profundity. As his vision closed, his skin began to strangely sense the air. The spring breeze was warm, as if lukewarm water were being carried to him in gaseous form. That wind was sometimes gentle, sometimes eerie, and at this moment, it was likely pleasant. Makoto thought that if Erio were to cast off her futon and feel this wind too, perhaps something might change. Enveloped by the mysteries so close at hand, Makoto thought that. “Niwa-kun! Let’s walk home together for at least part of the way!” “’Kay.” The two of them passed through the school gates together. “Niwa-kun! Bye-bye!” Their parting happened in the blink of an eye. “See ya.” There was no malice in those words. Praying that she truly meant it, Makoto waved with a smile as he and Ryuuko parted ways. “…If only I could avoid losing things like this.” Perhaps he might be able to choose. That’s what he thought while looking at Ryuuko’s back. As the sun began to set and shadows lengthened on the road, signalling the arrival of night, Makoto began to run in earnest. The sweat that had soaked his skin grew cold and began to sap his body heat, making the breeze that had felt so pleasant moments ago feel chilling. Shuddering as if cold claws were scratching at his back, Makoto pressed down harder on the pedals. Once he was alone, his thoughts, which had been so positive until then, were once again swallowed by a vortex of loneliness. He was currently burdened with various problems. Acknowledging that, Makoto continued to question himself. Which of these problems is it that he truly wanted to solve? No matter how much he thought about it, he could not come up with a way to make everything fit together perfectly. Problems at school. His relationship with Erio. The girl who continued to be an alien. If he abandoned one, there was a possibility that the remaining part could go well. There was room for improvement in both. Makoto was frustrated with himself, unable to decide which of the two to choose. Inside Makoto, much like a bicycle, the wheels were not spinning smoothly. Two wheels. A healthy daily life, and Erio. One of them was catching. The bicycle, having accelerated with unnecessary haste, headed toward the Touwa family at a speed that seemed far too fast to have been hesitating about returning home. His consciousness had been lost in thought, and while Makoto noticed this halfway through and slowed his pace, he could not bring himself to decelerate much. “Either killing time or rushing ahead. I should be more consistent.” As he arrived near the Touwa Family estate, muttering to himself with a hint of self-derision, a burst of cheering caught his ears. When Makoto casually glanced in that direction, an involuntary “Ah” escaped his lips. He gripped the bicycle brakes as if they were a lifeline. Setting one foot on the ground, he strained his eyes to see. There was no mistaking it. Far down the road, Erio was being chased by a group of elementary school students. “What are you, Urashima Tarou’s turtle<ref>''Urashima Tarou'' is a folk tale that starts with a man who saves a turtle from being bullied by children. As a reward, the turtle takes him to the Dragon Palace. Unfortunately, when he came back, he discovered that centuries had passed and all his family was dead.</ref>?” Before any other thoughts or impressions could form, that was the first thing that tumbled from his mouth. The girl, wrapped up like a bundle of fish, came sprinting straight toward him. The elementary students, seemingly on their way home from school, wore their ''randoseru<ref>A ''randoseru'' is a hard leather bag typically used by elementary schoolchildren.</ref>'' and chased after Erio while letting out raucous, teasing shrieks. They looked like they were having a wonderful time. Deciding there was no point in pretending not to notice at this stage, Makoto dismounted his bicycle. He intended to save Erio. However, he wondered with what kind of attitude he should intervene among the elementary school students. Makoto pressed a finger to his forehead, lost in thought. He was certain he had read in a picture book how Urashima Tarou had interrupted the children with a specific catchphrase, but he couldn’t recall it. Left with no choice, he raised both hands and charged at the elementary schoolers, feigning madness by shouting, “Uke-keee!” Once he committed to it, he seemed to find it quite fun himself, and halfway through, Makoto even began letting out genuine, piercing shrieks. The elementary school students, terrified by the dangerous high schooler who had suddenly appeared as if replacing the bundled-up girl, scattered in all directions, screaming and fleeing. They dispersed like a swarm of spiderlings. Internally, Makoto felt a sense of relief that the children hadn’t stood their ground. Since there were three or four of them, he figured that if they had remained calm and stayed, dealing with them would have been a hassle. After confirming that the elementary schooler had fled, Makoto came to a halt. He suddenly felt ashamed of himself as he stood in the middle of the road with his hands raised and his tongue sticking out, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, as if being dyed by the setting sun. He lowered his hands and gave a bitter smile. “……Uke-ke…” Erio, who had been running away, had stopped by the side of her bicycle. As Makoto approached, she tried to move away from him as if sensing his presence. Whether she had simply run out of stamina or not, she did not run. “Do you want a ride, Turtle-san? We might not make it to the Dragon Palace, but we’ll make it home. Though, I’m having a hard time understanding why I have to take along a turtle I just rescued.” Even when Makoto asked while pointing at the basket, Erio ignored him and kept walking. Keeping his hands on the handlebars of the bicycle, Makoto walked after her. He maintained a steady pace, neither overtaking her nor letting the distance between them grow. “The beach again today? Ah, you don’t even have to answer. I can tell because there’s sand on your futon. How’s that? I’m like a detective, right?” Erio remained silent, not even offering a “mofumofu” in response. “Still, you’ve got some stamina. Or maybe it’s just guts. Walking all the way to that beach and back, I couldn’t do that.” Makoto continued to speak intimately, unconcerned by her lack of reaction. Even while walking with Erio outside, he no longer felt the need to hide it. At that point, Makoto already held an answer within himself. “Elementary school kids are so brave. If I ever saw a Smakin in town, I’d run the other way.” Makoto’s shoulders shook as he spoke. And yet, right now, he wasn’t running. He was walking right beside a Smakin. “Looks like you failed at flying again today.” As they reached the point where the Touwa Family home came into view past the corner, Makoto brought up the subject. Erio came to a halt. Makoto and the wheels stopped as well. Makoto stared intently at the futon, waiting for a face to emerge. The sound of a television leaking from a nearby house was filled with an exaggerated burst of laughter. “…Huh?” Erio began walking away with quick, purposeful strides. Even when a deflated Makoto called out, “Hey!”, she ignored him. “What was that about?” Makoto muttered as he began pushing the bicycle once more. It wasn’t until they had entered the grounds of the Touwa family that Erio showed any concrete reaction. After opening the door with her toes, Erio peeked her face out from the house and looked back at Makoto as she entered. “*******” “……Hoh.” Unlike before, Makoto wore a fearless smirk. He looked as though he had been waiting for that very thing. It was a look of sheer composure. Erio’s eyes reacted slightly to Makoto’s expression. However, she did not open her mouth any further and retreated into the house. Having watched her go, Makoto let out a small huff. “That is the very core of the current Erio. In other words…” Leaving the rest of his words unsaid, Makoto entered the barn. He parked his bicycle near the entrance. Then, he reached out and gripped the handlebars of another, badly damaged bicycle deeper inside. It was the first time he had touched it since the day he first arrived in town, yet the uncomfortable sensation of the grip remained unchanged. “…But…” By that point, he had a general understanding of what he needed to do. He knew which wheel he should focus his efforts on spinning. Picking up a soccer ball that had been rolling in a corner of the barn, he stepped outside. Then, Makoto kicked the ball with all his might toward the sky. As if chasing after that ball, he thrust his arms upward. The twilight, spreading like crimson wings, and the contrails that look as though they might crumble at any moment. To a football caked in mud with just a little time left before it reached its peak. He thrust his fist forward. “Just break through,” he commanded himself. Makoto’s leg-shaking during class grew more intense by the day. With his textbook closed, he rested his cheek on his hand, letting the teacher’s voice drift in one ear and out the other. While the suspicions surrounding Makoto had reached a temporary lull, the atmosphere in the classroom was arguably at its worst. His leg twitched with irritation. This was a reflection of Makoto’s own state of mind. The teacher’s voice explaining mathematical formulas. The voices of classmates exchanging idle chatter. The voice questioning his own inner self. Even when he covered his ears, none of it subsided; it all continued to flow into him. Sunk into a state of closed-eyed slumber, Makoto suddenly had an idea and began operating his mobile phone beneath his desk. ''“Would recklessly saving a girl be considered worth it in terms of those so-called Youth Points?”'' The mobile phone, which was set to silent mode, immediately vibrated with an incoming message in response to the email Makoto had sent. That was fast. Makoto opened the body of the text with a wry smile at the reliable speed of the reply. ''“Youth Frontline. Run, Niwa-chi!”'' “…I was an honour student except for twice a year.” A single resolve escaped his lips. Suddenly, Makoto’s feet came to a complete halt. His expression became surprisingly serene, and he took a deep, peaceful breath. He had made his decision today. Makoto stood up triumphantly. Despite it being during class, the eyes of those around him gathered on him as he rose without warning. Even the teacher noticed the disturbance mid-lecture and turned around. Everyone gasped at Makoto’s movement, and the classroom fell into a silence that even extinguished all idle chatter. Only Maekawa remained calm, staring at Makoto’s back. Makoto grabbed the bag hanging from the side of his desk. He stuffed his textbooks and writing utensils inside, then turned his back to the teacher and the blackboard. With long, rapid strides, he headed for the entrance at the back of the classroom. As he left the room, his eyes met Ryuuko’s. When Makoto smiled, Ryuuko waved back, albeit awkwardly. Ignoring the voice of the teacher who had chased him into the hallway, Makoto bounded down the stairs. He descended five or six steps in a single leap, yet strangely, there was no numbness in his legs. Using his bent knees like springs as he landed, he continued toward the shoe lockers without losing his momentum. He slipped on his shoes, tossed his indoor slippers aside, and fled the school building. He ran without pause all the way to the bicycle parking lot, impatiently pulled the key from his pocket, and unlocked his bike. Makoto burst out of the school, a small smile softening his cheeks as he spotted his bicycle, with a yellow helmet rolling around in the basket. As soon as he passed through the school gate, he brushed past a figure. It was the girl in the spacesuit who had been doodling on the hair salon poster. When Makoto instinctively squeezed his brake lever, the girl looked back as well. “O H, M A K O T O. W H E R E A R E Y O U G O I N G S O H A S T E L Y?” “…Is that what you normally wear?” “It is formal attire, is it not?” The girl placed her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest. In that moment, Makoto suddenly found himself unable to recall the meaning of formal. “Well, I guess it’s not wrong, as long as you’re going to space. But that isn’t a real spacesuit, is it?” “You idiot, I am a real alien. Which means, of course, that my clothes are the real thing.” “Sure, sure.” As Makoto agreed with a deadpan voice, the girl nodded with great satisfaction, saying, “Then it’s fine.” “Well, I’m in a hurry, so!” “I S E E, I S E E.” After a brief exchange, Makoto pushed off against the pavement, accelerating his bicycle. He looked back mid-pedal. “Oh, by the way… How do you even know my name?” He asked with a sing-song cadence. With her visor gleaming dully, the girl wagged her raised index finger from side to side. As he followed that finger with his eyes, the synergy with her very presence made him feel as though he might fall under a hypnotic trance. Then, the girl let out a shout, so loud it felt as if she might shatter her own visor. “Nothing is impossible for an alien!” “…………” That cry tore through the air, slashing against Makoto’s cheeks and ears, leaving him wide-eyed. The girl let out a boisterous, foolish laugh as she walked away. Makoto muttered a response to that small, retreating back. “Unfortunately, I’m an Earthling. I’m on my way to prove that impossible wrong.” With that, Makoto lifted his hips from the saddle and continued to pedal with all his might. He raced back to the Touwa family and brought the bicycle to a violent halt. The skidding wheels tore up the weeds, leaving behind the faint scent of scorched rubber. He leapt from the bike and ran, swinging his arms wide. He burst into the house, kicking his shoes off haphazardly, and sprinted noisily down the hallway. He flew up the stairs, skipping steps, and burst into Erio’s room without even knocking. Erio and the swivel chair both turned around. The moment their eyes met, his body temperature spiked, and the blurring sweat poured down his face in a single rush. Makoto reached out his hand to the girl who maintained an expressionless face, and while his breathing remained heavy, he spoke. “From here on, I’m going to fly through the sky with you. If you can’t fly, then you’ll have to become an Earthling.” <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:VolumeSF_Chapter2|Chapter 2]] | Return to [[Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko|Main Page]] | Forward to [[Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko:VolumeSF_Chapter4|Chapter 4]] |- |} </noinclude>
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