Editing Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko:VolumeSF Prologue

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== Prologue ==
[[File:DTS_Vol_SF_07.jpg|thumb]]
'''Current XX point total:''' ±0
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As he boarded the train, Niwa Makoto counted on his fingers. He wondered how many years had passed since he had last ridden a train. One by one, his fingers folded down until only his pinky remained. Staring at the tip of that finger, Makoto’s mouth parted.

“Four years, huh?”

As Makoto murmured, the image of his sixth-grade school trip flashed through his mind. Back then, the exterior of the train and the box seats had seemed so much larger. He gave an awkward laugh, thinking about how he now found himself looking down at the back of those very same seats. Because he had been standing on the platform exposed to the freezing March wind, the surface of his face felt frozen. Every time the warm air trapped inside the train brushed against his cheeks, Makoto was tormented by a stinging itch.

Since it was a train in a rural station during a weekday afternoon, it was devoid of passengers. It was no exaggeration to say that not a single person could be seen. There were no signs of anyone following behind him, and he found himself reflexively looking back before even taking his seat. It made him feel as though he were committing some kind of violation, causing him to shrink back and pull his shoulders in.

Makoto sat down in a double seat, feeling uneasy. Although the seat next to him and all the other seats were empty, he dutifully placed his luggage on the overhead rack. He scanned the train interior restlessly while scratching with his fingertip his cheek, which had flushed from the restored circulation.

The train with its sole passenger aboard drifted with a unique atmosphere, as if a story might begin at any moment. He imagined scenarios, such as a bomb having been planted in this carriage. It was prompted by a movie he had seen the previous month. Though he immediately dismissed the thought, “No way, no way”, his heart remained unsettled.

A slight anxiety also crossed Makoto’s mind: did he perchance mistakenly board a train destined for the depot? He looked out the window toward the platform, which was also nearly deserted, to see if anyone was watching him. The very few passengers present were facing the opposite tracks, and no one was casting a glance his way.

His inability to remain still on a train remained unchanged from four years ago.

With a self-deprecating thought, Makoto readjusted himself in his seat.

He rested his cheek on his hand by the window and waited for the train to begin moving.

Niwa Makoto was set to become a second-year highschooler starting next month. He was of average build and height, with hair that appeared a little long, perhaps due to a lack of grooming. His features were neither strikingly handsome nor so unsightly as to invite malice. His eyes, the bridge of his nose, the shape of his lips… No matter which part one looked at, the description “quite alright” seemed most fitting. In other words, there was nothing noteworthy about him. Compared to his peers, his face had a somewhat youthful appearance, and his eyelids were heavy with drowsiness. He closed his eyes. He pressed his face deeply into the hand supporting his cheek and pursed his lower lip.

His transfer had taken place after a year had passed since he entered high school. His parents, both working, had travelled all over the place since he was a child. Because their lifestyle involved travelling not only within Japan but also abroad, he was well accustomed to the process of transferring schools.

While he had little experience riding trains, he could boast a respectable number of trips on airplanes and the ''Shinkansen''<ref>The ''Shinkansen'' is a high-speed bullet train.</ref>.

He had never spent an entire school year in the same place, even during elementary school. Since that had been his way of life from the very beginning, he had no major complaints, but school trips remained a bitter memory to this day.

During his sixth-grade year, Makoto experienced two transfers. The second transfer happened in September, right at the start of the second term. Furthermore, at his new elementary school, a school trip was looming just two weeks away. Although he managed to settle in with his new classmates to some extent, he ended up participating in the trip without having made any particularly close friends. Being surrounded by classmates with whom he shared a vague sense of distance made the trip an agonising experience.

As for making memories, well…

That was his thought as he posed for a group photo at a tourist attraction.

As he vaguely reflected on those old days, Makoto kept his eyes closed and his body tense. Though he felt sleepy, his consciousness did not drift off into slumber, leaving him to spend the time in a state of restless agitation.

This move had one distinction from the ones before. It meant leaving the care of his parents.

As for high school, it was likely better to settle down and graduate rather than moving around constantly. His parents, being mindful of this, decided that it was unnecessary for him to accompany them on their journey abroad. Since he felt that life in Japan suited him better than life at an overseas school, he accepted the decision. The place where Makoto would be staying in Japan was a town where his paternal aunt lived. He was heading there on this very train.

Between this moment and the train’s departure, only one other person, an elderly woman, boarded. She settled into a corner of a four-person facing seat, far away from Makoto. Then, the train began to move.

A view overlooking the area in front of the station spread out beyond the window, some distance away from the train platform. The grey landscape, centred around office buildings, was nothing particularly moving for Makoto. Not from a train, but while cycling, he happened to look up and saw a high-rising building. It was a familiar sight.

“…Ah, a call.”

His mobile phone in the right pocket of his coat vibrated. Since he had never set a ringtone, it was only a vibration. He pulled his phone out as if pinching it and checked the caller.

The LCD screen on the mobile phone displayed “Hoshinaka”. After a moment of hesitation, Makoto answered.

He had been reluctant to talk on the train, but he thought there were no other passengers nearby who would be inconvenienced.

“Yoooo, hello?”

''“Oh, Niwa-chi.”''

A voice reached Makoto’s ears that sounded no different from the one he had heard a week ago, on the day the third term ended, and he let out a sigh.

It was a call from a classmate with whom he had been closest since entering high school.

She was the only one who called Makoto “Niwa-chi”.

“Well, I’ve made my fair share of blunders with this girl,” he thought, sticking his tongue out.

“Wouldn’t it be a bit weird to just go ‘Ta-da!’ after calling my cellphone?”

''“Ahaha, well, well. I hear loud noises… are you already on the train?”''<ref>Let’s note that Hoshinaka often talks in dialect, though I’m not sure from which region.</ref>

“Yeah. Are you at home, Hoshinaka?”

''“Hoshinaka '''House'''.”''

“That sounds like a place where there’d be a lot of Hoshinaka around.”

''“It’s cold, so I’m not really feeling like going out. Besides, my boyfriend won’t even ask me out.”''

“That’s too bad,” he replied, lowering his voice. Meanwhile, Makoto struggled to remember internally whether the boyfriend’s name was Takimoto or Takida. He remembered him having a tough, athletic look, but his name didn’t leave him much of an impression.

''“Did you want me to come see you off?”''

“Your boyfriend would just punch me again; give me a break.”

''“Kyaa! Niwa-chi, you’re so loved!”''

“Was that an even more terrifying scene than being punched?!”

When he pretended to shudder from the shock, a small burst of laughter swirled on the other end of the line.

''“The distance between me and Niwa-chi is growing further and further apart, yet our connection remains unbroken over the phone…”''

“……? Yeah, I guess so.”

''“There it is! This is a moment where you can really feel the romance! Try saying an itchy-creepy line!”''

“Th-this is a touching moment?”

He instinctively lifted my hips off the seat. He couldn’t respond to her sudden demand immediately and felt a surge of panic.

''“You’re all fired up!”''

Even now, he found the sensibilities of that girl, Hoshinaka, difficult to understand. He sat back down and turned his gaze toward the window.

The train was just about to cross a steel bridge. Below the bridge, the Kiso River flowed, and he could see people enjoying themselves fishing.

''“Niwa-chi! Fight!”''

He gave a wry smile at her slightly nonsensical cheer.

“I’ll do my best. For now, I’ll start getting used to this new place.”

''“Are you ready to start counting your Youth Points?”''

“I’ve wondered for a while, but what exactly are these points anyway? You bring them up all the time.”

Saying it out loud made him feel so embarrassed that his frozen skin almost thawed. He added that and stroked his cheeks, which had now grown quite warm. His fingertips were still cold, and the temperature difference felt pleasant against his flushed skin.

''“May the protection of Youth Points be upon you, Niwa-chi.”''

He wondered what use there was in receiving the protection of such a mysterious entity. However, a moment later, he reconsidered, thinking that divine protection might be very much the same. Just as he knew nothing of Youth Points, he had never encountered a god either.

Still, he let out a bitter-sweet sigh.

“I’d prefer a slightly more straightforward form of support.”

''“That’s quite a luxurious request. Hmm… I hope you get to meet a cute girl!”''

“Thanks, that’s incredibly straightforward.”

The two of them shared a final laugh before Makoto ended the call.

After sliding his phone back into his jacket pocket, he gazed down at his empty palm. There had been a time when he had held hands with the person on the other end of that call. It had only happened once, but that was exactly why it felt so vivid.

As if trying to recall that sensation, he curled and straightened his fingers a few times.

After repeating that motion until he felt satisfied, he leaned his elbows against the windowsill. The train’s announcement drifted from right to left, announcing its passage over a railway bridge and its upcoming stop at the next station, and he muttered ironically:

“Swaying alone on a train headed toward a new land… Is this also what they call youth? Maybe,” he added after a brief pause. Makoto, smiling as his tension slightly eased, closed his eyes once again.

Carrying this young boy, the train continued its journey toward the city.
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