Tsukumodo:Volume 2 Self

Have you ever wished that you existed twice?

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

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

In order to act as a mysterious superhero, the protagonist made the robot go to elementary school in his place. The robot had some amazing abilities: it had free will, would act independently, and could then share its memories with the protagonist.

If you had access to something like that, you could make it do your homework when you felt tired, go to school when you weren’t in the mood, or earn money for you to fritter away on whatever you wanted.

Aah, that would be so convenient.

It does sound like you’d be acting like a pretty nasty slave-driver, but that’s not really the case. After all, the two of you share everything - fun and not-so-fun - at the end of the day.

Mh? Then take on the not-so-fun stuff yourself, you say?

...Now that's a whole other kettle of fish.

Well, there’s no point in daydreaming. Possessing something like that would be too good to be true, and even if it were possible, there’d bound to be some kind of catch.

◆

"I'm back."

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

It was a high school student. He had just come back from school, so he was still wearing his uniform and carrying the official school satchel. His short haircut, sun-tanned skin, and strong build suggested that he was the sporty sort.

If there were a third person in the room, he would have been flabbergasted.

The face of that student looked identical to mine. Not similar, but the exact same.

And our faces weren’t the only things that were identical—our body sizes, haircuts, shoulder widths, weights, skin tones, leg lengths, shoe sizes—everything was the same.

We weren't identical twins. Even so-called “identical” twins look similar at best, and aren’t actually identical.

Our appearances, however, were exactly the same in every respect.

He was like my mirror image, which is why I called him "copy."

"Give me the satchel."

After taking the satchel from my copy, I rummaged in it for a manga that had just come out today. I had commanded him to buy it for me on his way home. When I took the manga out, I accidentally snagged a sheet of paper, which then fell to the ground.

"What's that?"

"The results from the quiz I told you about yesterday."

"Did you mention it to me?"

I took a look at it. Next to my name, Jirou Kishitani, was a 100. It was a perfect score.

"Not bad at all."

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

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

(But I get all the credit. Heh, looks like I can look forward to my report card this year.)

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

"Oh? You made a lot of progress, didn't you?" he suddenly said as he looked at the TV screen.

I’d been gaming all day while my copy was at school. Of course I made some decent progress.

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

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

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

My copy refers to himself as "boku," but that’s only when he's with me, of course. I had also made him change his manner of speaking a bit. I would feel really awkward if we talked the exact same way. After those small tweaks, I no longer felt like I was talking to myself and could relax.

My copy got on the bed, lay on top of me and touched his forehead to mine.

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

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

I saw that he went to school and attended classes. He surprised everyone with the full mark he had received on the short test. Figures—I haven't gotten a full mark in my entire life. That’s unsurprising, because I never did my homework properly, let alone prepared myself properly for school. It was kind of funny to see the reactions of the teacher and the other students.

There was also a scene that stood out from my club activities, where he played soccer. I saw him score an amazing goal in a practice game. The goalie was a guy from the first-string team who I couldn't stand. He was gnashing his teeth. Glorious. After that, my copy went to a convenience store, bought my manga, and came home.

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

My copy got off 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 on 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. One who did things like going to school, studying, and training my game characters for me.

It's like there were two of me.

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

He was a version of me who had to obey my every command.

What a convenient tool I had gotten my hands on.

I could do whatever I wanted. I never had to do anything boring or annoying anymore.

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

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

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

◆

"Nhaaa," I yawned as I watched the match.

It was one to one with five minutes remaining. I guessed it would end in a draw.

The motivated players were fighting hard for control of the ball, while the unmotivated players like me just watched from afar.

Some background: PE today was a soccer match.

"Kurusu, the ball!"

"Gotcha!"

The ball was kicked toward me. I just wanted to pass it to a teammate and be done with it, but Kishitani, an opposing player, stole the ball from me and dribbled around me toward the goal.

"Kurusu, get your act together!"

Even though my teammates were complaining, I didn't run after him. My opponent was in the soccer club; even if I managed to catch up with him, I wouldn't be able to steal back the ball. As if to further bolster my decision, Kishitani easily dodged the defenders, one after another.

"Man, how childish can you get? That guy's in the soccer club and still gives it 110%..."

"The guys he's beating are in the soccer club too," said my teammate Shinjou as he approached me.

He was right - the players opposing Kishitani were also members of the same soccer club, but utterly failed to regain the ball.

"Heh, believe it or not, he's actually restraining himself!"

"Really? I mean, look, they've already got nothing on him!"

"He used to be a good-for-nothing who would just rush onto the opponent's side of the field like an idiot, but he's become incredible lately! He's been practicing like a different person, and keeps at it alone, even when everyone else had gone home. I guess something made him turn over a new leaf? I've heard that by now even the seniors on the first-string team have a hard time stealing the ball from him."

When the defense finally seemed about to overwhelm him with sheer numbers, he skilfully passed the ball to a teammate.

"He's even started to do some decent team play - like just now."

"Has he only improved lately?"

"Yeah. He's like a totally different person."

"Like a different person, eh?" I said while gazing at Kishitani, who was running toward our goal.

Right before time ran out, Kishitani received a pass and slammed the ball into the net.

"The losing team's in charge of clearing up!" announced the teacher right after he had blown the final whistle.

Back in the Tsukumodo Antique Shop, as Saki served us some black tea, she asked me "Did you discover anything?"

"Yeah, I've narrowed down my search considerably."

"I see."

After I sat down next to Saki, Towako-san entered from the living room and plopped down before the counter, waiting for me to elaborate.

About a week ago, Towako-san had told me that someone in my school had a Relic.

Apparently, when she dropped by our sister shop, she happened to notice a customer who was wearing my school’s uniform. The owner of the sister shop told Towako-san that he had bought a Relic.

The name of the Relic was "Masquerade," and as the name suggests, it looked like a mask. When that white and expressionless mask was placed on a doll or mannequin, the mask would transform it into a perfect copy of the user. It would not only have the same appearance, but also the same skills and personality as the user.

The user was at risk of becoming so lazy that his ability to interact with society would be lost. He might start to unload even the smallest of tasks onto his copy if he kept using Masquerade, which would lead to his ruin.

That being said, at first I wanted to ignore this incident because I thought that someone just getting lazy was hardly a real problem, and that it would serve him right if he ruined himself due to laziness.

But I couldn’t get it off my mind, so I ended up unobtrusively observing my classmates.

In addition to a school badge, our uniforms also had class badges that displayed the students’ school years by color and the class number as well. Towako-san had not clearly seen the customer’s face, but she had seen his class badge. It happened to be the same as mine.

Considering the power of Masquerade, it was highly unlikely that I could distinguish the copy from the real thing – after all, it was a perfect copy. Nevertheless, I was on the lookout for the even the slightest bit of strange behavior.

And after observing my class for a week, I had drawn the following conclusion:

Kishitani was definitely suspicious.

◆

"I'm back."

I woke up to the greeting of my copy.

"Ah, sorry. Did I wake you up?"

"No, it's cool. I can sleep all day, after all."

It seemed that my afternoon nap had gotten quite long.

(It figures. Lately, I've basically been sleeping in the day and active at night.)

"I've got good news for you today!" my copy said as he approached me with a smile on his face.

"What is it? Tell me more."

"Best just see it for yourself!"

My copy pressed his forehead against mine and started the memory sharing process.

It was just the normal school scenery. By now, I didn't consider flawlessly answering every question the teacher posed or getting a high score on a quiz particularly good news anymore.

What exactly is he so happy about? I thought right before the memories of that day's club activities entered my mind. I was similarly unimpressed: neither his skillful shots, nor the fact that he was practicing with the first-string players impressed me.

Suddenly, he was called out by our coach.

"You’re on the starting lineup in the match tomorrow. Don't let me down!"

Even though we were still in the middle of sharing our memories, I immediately jerked my head back. My copy gave me a triumphant smile.

"In the starting lineup for tomorrow's match?"

"That's right!"

That was the first time I was selected for the first-string. Considering that I hadn't even entered a real game thus far, suddenly being added to the starting lineup was a great leap forward. All those efforts had paid off.

"Okay, I'll go to school tomorrow."

"Eh?" my copy uttered with wide eyes.

"What? Got a problem with that?"

"N-No, I don't... but are you all right?"

"If you were all right, how could I not be? After all, we're the same, aren't we?"

"Yeah, we are."

"Okay, now that that's decided, time to get some sleep." I got on my bed again and added "Prepare yourself for tomorrow! You better not forget about any of your regular preparations."

"Hah...hah...hah..."

I was gasping for breath, and about to collapse from a lack of oxygen. I was trembling so hard that I couldn't stand up without supporting my knees with my hands.

"Here goes!"

I received a pass from a senior player, but could not take another step. Just as the ball passed the goal line, the final whistle was blown. I somehow managed to stagger back to the bench.

"W-Water...," I groaned as I plopped down on the ground, holding my hand out to our team manager.

That manager, however, ignored me completely and handed out towels to the other players.

"Hey, what're ya doing? Get my some water!" I ordered a second-string team member standing nearby from my year. He reluctantly brought me a water bottle, which I whipped out of his hand and greedily drank from.

(Ah, that really hits the spot. I didn't think that the playing on the first-string would be so hard; man, I was about to die! I haven't gotten that much exercise in ages. Well, I haven't really been doing much lately, because I pushed all that kind of stuff onto my copy.)

While my copy could share his memories with me, he could apparently do the same with his physical fitness.

I had really been looking forward to this Saturday’s match…but the first half had ended with almost no achievements on my part.

"What's wrong, Kishitani?" our coach said as he approached me. "Where's your commitment today?"

"I-I'm sorry. I didn’t get enough sleep..."

That wasn't a lie. While I had intended to go to sleep right after I heard about the game from my copy, I hadn't been able to sleep a wink because I already been asleep for too long during the day.

"I see. Well, I guess you've gotten a bit overanxious about the game because this is your first real match."

"I'm sorry."

"Got it. I'll sub in someone else for the second half."

I was relieved: I couldn't walk another step. Playing the second half would have been pure hell.

"I'll give you one more chance during tomorrow’s match. Make sure you get enough sleep tonight, okay? Well, I guess you'll sleep like a log since you look completely worn out."

(Tomorrow? You wanna make me go through that pain again on Sunday...?)

I slumped down all the way, and couldn't even imagine standing up.

"How was it?" my copy immediately asked after I got back.

"It was terrible! Dammit..."

After throwing down my satchel with some difficulty, I slumped onto my bed.

"Looks like it didn't go well, huh?"

"Oh just shut up. Have you trained my characters at least?"

"I have! All day."

I looked at the TV screen and saw that they had gained roughly thirty levels. Those PC’s sure had it good—they didn't get exhausted no matter how long they fought.

"...The coach said he wants to put me on the starting lineup tomorrow, too!"

"He did? But that's good news, isn't it?"

"You go."

"Huh? May I?"

"Yeah. I'm fed up with this–it’s such a pain. Besides, I think my muscles will be killing me tomorrow. Anyway, make sure you kick their asses, okay? You better not suck!"

"My skills are your skills."

I wanted to ask if he was being sarcastic, but I was just too damn tired.

I fell into a sound sleep right away.

I momentarily thought to pool our memories, but my overwhelming desire to get some sleep immediately wiped that thought right out.

"Hey, how was it?" I asked immediately after my copy got back from the match.

I didn't mean to imitate him—I was genuinely curious. So much that I hadn't been able to focus on playing my video game all day.

"Not bad, I guess."

My copy approached me with his forehead. I touched mine to his and started to receive the memories of the match.

Like I was yesterday, he was on the starting lineup as a forward. The coach slapped him on the back, reminding him to do better this time. Even though it was only a memory of something that was already over, I got kinda tensed up.

The match started.

I don't want to admit it, but unlike me, my copy ran around across the field quick as a flash. That assured me that I would have been able to do just as much if I hadn't been so exhausted.

He started to run with a perfect timing to receive a pass from a senior. Just before the offside line, he took control of the ball and rushed toward the goal, leaving the opposing defense behind.

Shoot! I shouted at heart.

Our thoughts were in sync; my copy slammed the ball the moment I shouted. The ball brushed the fingertips of the goalie and went straight into the net.

My seniors ran to my copy to congratulate me and pat him on the back, while our coach was nodding approvingly.

It felt great.

In the end, we won the match three to one. My copy shone by scoring one goal and making two assists.

"Well done!" I praised him after I had seen all memories. "'Not bad'? Come on! That was kick-ass!"

"As I said, that's self-praise!"

"I guess you're right. Man! I would have been able to the same yesterday if I hadn't been so tired..."

"It doesn't matter—my achievements are your achievements!"

He was right. It may have been me yesterday and my copy today, but from someone else's perspective, it was me both times.

Since our skills were the same, I would have been capable of the same if I had gone today. Well, if I had really gone today, I would have had a hard time moving because of sore muscles, but that's a different story.

Besides, my copy and I were sharing our memories; I could perfectly recall that day's match. I could virtually remember the feel of the ball when he scored that goal.

I suddenly felt as if I had smashed the ball into the net and raised my arms like my copy had.

"Ouch-oww-ouch!"

The sore muscles all over my body pulled me back to reality. They had been much worse that morning, though; I hadn't even been able to stand up.

"Don't overstrain yourself and get some sleep!" my copy said.

"Yeah, good idea. I'm sure I'll have a nice dreams tonight."

◆

I don't like Mondays.

The thought that a whole week has just started depresses me, and I can't help but count the days until the weekend.

I entered the classroom just when the bell rang and noticed that it was rather noisy.

"What's the matter?" I asked Shinjou, whose desk was before mine, as I sat down.

"Do you mean that?" he confirmed while pointing at a group of girls. The center of the noise was there apparently. "Kishitani scored a goal and made two assists in the match the first-string had yesterday, you know. Now the girls are going wild over it because the team manager has told them about it."

As Shinjou had said, Kishitani was standing in their center, getting praise from all sides and blushing with modesty.

I had never seen that before. While Kishitani may not be loathed by the girls, he was far from popular because of his crude and over-confident personality.

I fixed my gaze on him.

Of course he looked like always, and like a perfectly normal human. He didn't seem anything like a copy created by Masquerade. It was also possible that it was the real Kishitani right now, though.

"I don't like that," Shinjou—also in the soccer club—muttered in a displeased tone.

"And? How did you score?"

"One goal and one assist."

"Hey, not half bad!"

"In a match amongst farm teams."

(I see. Life sure can be cruel.)

"Sorry everyone—! Please give me a moment!" the class representative called from the teacher's platform. The chattering subsided and the students' attention focused on the representative. "Today's first period is self-study because the teacher is absent due to illness."

After a moment's silence, a wave of cheer spread in the classroom.

"So I thought we might just as well change the desks now, and not after school as originally scheduled. Is everyone okay with this?"

Okey-dokey! a few students replied like elementary school students. The ones who didn't reply weren't against that plan, either. Of course, I was perfectly okay with not staying after school, too.

"Okay, then please go to your seats."

The students sat down at their respective desks.

"We'll draw lots to determine the new desks. As I informed you beforehand, the absent students will be alloted to the free desks. Is that okay?"

The class representative was of course not playing dumb or really expecting an answer by asking someone who was not here; it was just a judgment by default.

Suddenly, as I was looking at the desks around me, I noticed that one had remained free. There seemed to be one absent person, but I couldn't immediately name who that was.

"Hey, who's the guy that's missing?" I asked Shinjou.

"Huh? We're complete, aren't we? Ah, you mean that desk?" he nodded when he saw the desk I was pointing at.

Apparently, I wasn't the only who wondered about that empty seat. Here and there, I heard someone asking who had sat there.

"That desk belongs to a guy called Sagara. He hasn't shown up even once, though."

Now that he said it, I remembered hearing such a name sometime in the beginning of the school term. I had forgotten because our class teacher had stopped calling his name when checking who was present.

"Is it just me or is that desk kinda unnecessary?"

"Dispose of it before we draw lots then!"

"Why don't we just put a doll there?"

A few students made such jokes and raised a laugh.

But their laughter was interrupted by a roar.

"Watch your tongue!"

There fell a deep silence, and all gazes focused on the one who had yelled out.

It was Kishitani. He had stood up, but after bathing the surprised gazes of his classmates for a few moments, he sat down again without saying anything.

"You can talk!" Shinjou hissed silently while looking at Kishitani.

"What do you mean?"

"Sugara has stopped coming to school because of Kishitani, you know?"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. It's a pretty famous story in our soccer club! Kishitani pushed various chores on him like buying him something to drink, under the pretext it would help him train his body. And he's rumored to have done even nastier stuff to Sagara in secret. But looks like bullies forget about it in no time, eh? Or did his success make him a different person? Meh, just meh."

(A different person, huh.)

Indeed, I had similar thoughts.

But I was still unable to say for sure that Kishitani's change of personality was due to Masquerade.