Tsukumodo:Volume 2 Self

Have you ever wished you existed twice?

I'm not talking about twins or anything. I mean a second "you" who can stand in for you.

Come to think of it, there was a copy-robot in that famous anime show I used to watch when I was a child.

The protagonist made the robot go to elementary school in his place while he acted as a mysterious super hero. It was a robot with excellent capabilities that would share the memories while active with him and had his own will.

If you really had something like that, you could make him do your homework when you're tired, or make him go to school when you don't feel like going yourself, or make him earn money for you to spend.

Aah, that would be so convenient.

Admittedly, it's not like that doesn't positively sound like pretty nasty slave-driving to me, but nothing to worry about in that respect. After all, you share all fun things and unfun things at the end of the day.

Mh? Then take on the unfun stuff yourself, you say?

...Now that's an entirely different matter.

But well, no use lingering over dreams. That would be too good to be true, and if it were true, then there would be bound to be some sort of a catch.

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"I'm back."

"Ya," I said as I paused the game I was playing and turned around to the person who had just entered the room.

It was a high schooler, and because he had just come from school, he was still wearing his uniform and carrying the satchel designated by the school. His short haircut, his sun-tanned skin, and his strong build implied that he did sports.

If there was a third party here, he would have been flabbergasted for sure.

The face of that student looked the same as mine. Not similar. The same.

And not only our faces were the same—our body size, our haircut, the breadth across our shoulders, our weight, our skin tone, the length of our legs, our shoe size—everything.

We weren't twins. Twins look similar, not identical.

Our appearance, however, looked the exact same.

Like my mirror image.

Which is why I called him "copy."

"Give me the satchel."

After receiving the satchel from my copy, I rummaged it for a mangas that came out today. I had commanded him to buy it for me on his way home. When I took the manga out, I accidentally pulled along a sheet of paper, which then fell to the ground.

"What's that?"

"The answer sheet of a short test. The one I told you about yesterday."

"You did?"

I took a look at it. Next to my name, Jirou Kishitani, was a 100. It was a literal full mark.

"Not bad at all."

"The test covered the things we studied yesterday. It paid off, didn't it?"

"You're the one who studied, though."

(But the esteem is mine. Heh, looks like I can look forward to my school report this year.)

I tossed the sheet away and threw myself on my bed with the new manga. My copy picked up the sheet and sat down where I had been sitting.

"Oh? You made quite some progress, didn't you?" escaped his lips as he looked into the TV screen.

Well, I had been playing all day while my copy was at school. Of course I made some decent progress.

Because both my parents work from the early morning till late at night, There's no one who would rebuke me for skipping school. No, I was at school, I guess? Or rather, my copy was. But practically it's the same.

"Train my characters while I'm reading this manga!"

"I don't mind, but let's share our memory before you start reading manga."

My copy referred to himself as "boku". Of course only when he's with me. I had also made him change his way of speaking a little. It would feel much more awkward if we talked the exact same. When I talked to him with those slight changes, I didn't get the feeling like I was talking to myself and could relax.

My copy got on the bed, covered my body and touched my forehead with his.

It was a sight that could be easily misunderstood. But we weren't doing anything questionable; this was how I could turn the memories of my copy into my own.

When I collected myself, I felt something flowing into my head. It was the memories my copy had experienced that day.

I saw how he went to school and attended classes. He surprised everyone with the full mark he had received in the short test. Figures—I haven't gotten a full mark in my entire life. No wonder, because I never did my homework properly, let alone prepared myself for school. It was kind of funny to see the reactions of the teacher and the other students.

There was also a scene of my club activities where he played soccer. I saw him score a goal in a practice game they played together with the first team. The goal keeper was a guy from the first team I couldn't stand. He was gnashing his teeth. Glorious. After that, my copy went to a convenience store, bought my manga, and came here.

"Man, you rock," I had to praise him after seeing that test and his play.

My copy removed himself from me and smiled wryly.

"Is that self-praise?"

"Oh, looks like it is. You're me after all, aren't you?"

I couldn't explain what in earth he was.

I could only say that he was my copy.

A copy that looked the same as me and had the same skills. Who did things like going to school for me, studying for me, and training my game characters for me.

It's like there were two of me.

But while he was me, he wasn't me.

He was a version of mine who obeyed whatever I commanded him.

What a convenient tool I had gotten my hands on.

With him, I could do whatever I want. I didn't have to trudge to anything anymore.

Ever since I had obtained that tool, my life was fulfilled.

The scene I was reading wasn't particularly funny, but I couldn't stop laughing.

Ah, right. Gotta make him do today's homework.

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