Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko:VolumeSF Epilogue

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Epilogue

Status Report

Distortion confirmed. The subject appears to have made contact with “another one”.

Setting that aside, the accumulated points are completely insufficient.

It prevents my return.

For the foreseeable future, I will continue observation and maintain contact with the subject.

Current xx points: +7

---

“And that’s how I ended up hospitalised. It’s my first time.”

“Niwa-chi, you’re not going to live a long life.”

Makoto laughed, as if drawing in a sharp breath, at the blunt assessment from the other end of the line. A pair of crutches lay discarded on the ground beside him as he sat in the hospital garden, leaning his back against the wall. Tilting his chin up toward the sky, Makoto spoke to the person on the phone.

“Hoshinaka, have you ever seen ‘E.T.’?”

“No, never. But I know about it, the finger-touching thing. E.T.”

“Oh really? That part is famous, too.”

Without anyone actually facing him, Makoto extended the fingertips of his free hand horizontally in front of his eyes.

What his finger pointed toward was a worn-out coniferous tree of an unknown species.

“Fu fu fu. Niwa-chi, you just extended your index finger.”

“Ugh, how did you know?”

“Well, when it comes to you, Niwa-chin, I know pretty much anything.”

A triumphant, “Ne ha ha,” tickled Makoto’s ears. He blushed in silence, embarrassed.

“So, Niwa-chi, why did you decide to call me so unusually today?”

“Is it really that unusual?”

“It’s mezui.”

“I think this every time, but your Japanese is really difficult to understand… Well, anyway, I was just bored.”

Makoto replied with a constricted heart, as if he were making an excuse. While that part wasn’t a lie, there was another reason. The person on the other end of the line remained silent, as if sensing that, and waited for his next words. After coughing and choking a few times, Makoto lowered his voice and muttered it out.

“About me… uh, to put it in terms of your Youth Points, how am I doing?”

His voice faltered as he struggled with the unfamiliar phrasing, no matter how many times he tried to say it. Even so, he finished stating his true business, closing his eyes and looking down. “Hmm, let’s see,” his companion on the phone replied, adding a preamble as if to build a little suspense.

“Let’s make it five points, then? At least Niwa-chi, you managed to survive somehow.”

“…I see.”

Without even bothering to check what the perfect score was, Makoto scratched his nose, looking slightly tickled. Then, he lifted his head, which had been hanging low, to face the pouring light. Makoto accepted the dazzling sensation of something pure white coating his eyelashes and cheeks. “It’s a beautiful day,” he muttered to himself.

“Oh, that kind of comment is actually quite youthful, Niwa-chi.”

“Shut up.”

Makoto wiped his face as if to brush the light away, and his expression turned sour. However, it soon softened again, and a small smile played upon his lips at the sensation of the mobile phone held tightly in his palm.

“Well then, Niwa-chi, I’ll come visit you during summer vacation.”

“Oh? You’re coming? Yeah, sure, I’ll be waiting.”

“Are you ready to eat the Hoshinaka wave, OK?”

“I’ll strike right back.”

With Youth Power.

Makoto regretted it deeply amidst the unending bursts of laughter, having said those very words until the very end.

Lying on a clean hospital bed, Niwa Makoto was counting the time on his fingers. How much longer would it be until lunchtime? In a month-long hospitalisation devoid of any excitement, meals were his only pleasure.

“Ah, there are still more than two hours left.”

Lamenting, he reached for the paperback he had been reading, but after advancing only a few pages, he set it back down by his bedside. The cause was the heat building up in his back from lying flat on his back. The combination of that heat and a friction-like itch made it impossible for Makoto to concentrate on his reading. However, even if he wanted to change his position, his broken leg was still suspended, leaving him without freedom. Glancing down at his foot, Makoto let out a sigh.

“That girl was riding much more dangerously than I was, so how is it that she’s completely unscathed? The god of traffic ethics is unfair,” Makoto laughed to himself. It spared cute girls from harm, yet showed no such restraint toward men. However, that criteria was something Makoto found entirely agreeable.

If he had been in that position, he would have done the same.

A sense of agreement began to sprout within Makoto’s heart.

“God is going through puberty.”

It sounded like a title for a book. Makoto thought as he muttered the words, and then, he sighed again.

He moved his eyes from side to side, as if protesting his boredom. To his right was a window, through which a clear sky, fitting for May, stretched out. Though the shapes of the clouds still belonged to spring, the sunlight piercing through the window was sharp. The low-humidity light acted as a heat ray, searing Makoto’s shoulder. As he ran his palm over the part of the bedsheet that had been continuously struck by the sun, he shuddered at the warmth. Makoto could not understand why a chill had run down his spine, but it was not an unpleasant feeling.

Afterward, when Makoto turned to his left, his eyes drifted to the adjacent bed.

The person hospitalised in the same room as Makoto was a boy who appeared to be in elementary school. Like Makoto, he lay on his back in the next bed with his left leg in a cast. The difference was that instead of a paperback book, he held a brand-new soccer ball in his small hands. The boy was smiling as he tenderly stroked it with his palm.

His face was full of vitality, as if he could not wait to be discharged. Makoto watched the boy out of the corner of his eye, his expression inadvertently clouding. The boy had been hospitalised for about a week, but they had not yet exchanged any words. They had no need to speak to one another. Yet, perhaps losing his battle against boredom, Makoto’s mouth suddenly opened.

“Do you like soccer?”

He felt as if he had read such a line in an old manga once. Although he realised it immediately after saying it, there was no turning back for Makoto now. The boy, caught completely off guard by the sudden approach, widened his eyes, but after a few seconds of silence, he gave a clumsy response to Makoto’s question.

“I like it.”

“I figured, seeing as you’ve got a ball.”

As Makoto laughed, saying it was only natural, the boy’s lips also began to curl into a smile, caught up in the mood.

“I like it too.”

“Is that so? Soccer is great, isn’t it?”

The boy’s voice gradually grew more animated. Much like Makoto, he seemed to have been starving for conversation.

“Did you break your leg from playing too much soccer?”

Makoto felt a sense of kinship toward the boy’s manner of speaking, which was subtly polite yet awkward in his attempt to be considerate of an older person. For his part, Makoto also struggled to figure out how to behave toward his aunt. Though the implications of the two were entirely different.

“It wasn’t for such a cool reason. I just had a little accident on my bike.”

“Ah, me too.”

The boy rejoiced as if he had found a kindred spirit. Makoto averted his eyes and gave a sloppy grin, thinking to himself that the boy wasn’t lying.

“Um, do you want to play soccer?”

The boy asked, holding the ball out horizontally. Makoto spoke with an exasperated sigh.

“We both have broken legs.”

“Then, hand soccer.”

“Huh?”

“Instead of kicking the ball, we throw it back and forth.”

“That is an entirely different sport called dodgeball.”

Or perhaps basketball?

After muttering that, Makoto thought of Ryuuko. Ryuuko had visited him in the hospital about two weeks ago. Perhaps because it was on her way home after after-school club activities, it had been close to six in the evening. Makoto replayed their interaction in his mind. The first thing he remembered was the fluttering hem of her skirt.

“Hey, hey, Niwa-kun, hi. Oh, maybe it’s already evening.”

That day, Ryuuko appeared with her bag and sub-bag swaying against her shoulder, still wearing a helmet despite being indoors. Makoto’s cheeks softened at her lingering innocence as he welcomed his visitor.

To be honest, he hadn’t expected a classmate to visit, so it was a pleasant surprise.

“Oh, Ryuushi-san, hey.”

“I told ya, I’m Ryuuko. Whatever, hey, how are you doing?”

As she sat in the folding chair he had prepared, Ryuuko asked him with the casual politeness of a social pleasantry. Makoto closed the paperback he had been reading without even using a bookmark and sat up. Since he was in front of a girl, he made a show of fussing with his bedhead, but in the end, he gave up and decided not to care.

“I’m doing fine. That’s why being hospitalised is so incredibly boring.”

“Hmm, so what you’re saying is, Ryuuko-san is your saviour, right?”

“*Drumroll and fanfare*!”

“Yah yah, thank you, thank you.”

Ryuuko raised both hands as if responding to a cheering crowd of one. Makoto smiled at her upbeat attitude.

“But, man, you really went and cleanly snapped it, didn’t you?”

“I guess. By the time it’s healed and I’m discharged, it’ll be June.”

Ryuuko stared intently at Makoto’s elevated right leg. Makoto, in turn, gazed at the tip of his leg, which was held in place by bandages, and thought back to the day it happened. He remembered being able to walk on his own after getting up from the sandy beach, so he wondered exactly when it had broken. He narrowed his eyes at the mystery of the human body.

“By the way, have you seen anyone walking around town wrapped up in a futon lately?”

“Hmm? Hmm, now that you mention it, not recently. Maybe Touwa-san just got tired of it?”

“…Hmm.”

Makoto maintained a detached attitude, acting as though he had no interest in the matter. He himself was unsure how effective such a facade actually was.

“I mean, Niwa-kun, wouldn’t you know more about this?”

“I’m in the hospital, so I don’t really understand anything.”

Erio never once visited him in the hospital. Although Meme had shown her face several times.

“But even so, Niwa-kun, you really are quite the mysterious transfer student, aren’t you?”

“Eh, mysterious?”

“Breaking a bone and being hospitalised just a month after transferring schools, that’s certainly a high-speed life.”

For some reason, Ryuuko placed a hand to her chin, evaluating Makoto as if she were strangely impressed. To Makoto, it felt somewhat like being praised, but since he couldn’t find any part of it that warranted joy, he could only offer an ambiguous, wry smile.

“As for Ryuuko-san, who lacks just a teeny, tiny bit of personality, or should I say, an edge, your way of life really strikes a chord, deeply and profoundly.”

What was she even talking about? While Makoto threw a mental retort, he refrained from voicing it to Ryuuko.

“By the way, Niwa-kun, why is your foot in a cast? Was it a car accident or something?”

The way Ryuuko put it, even a broken bone sounded as trivial as snapping a piece of kintarouame.

“What kind of rumours are spreading at school?”

“Niwa-kun has gone crazy.”

“…Well, that’s mostly correct.”

Fearing that a specific explanation might lead to a misunderstanding involving a suicide attempt, Makoto gave a vague answer. In contrast, Ryuuko simply nodded along with an “Yup, yup” expression, as if she had never intended to listen to the details in the first place.

“Anyway, accidents are dangerous, right? So, from now on, you need to be a Helmetter too, Niwa-kun!”

“Excuse me?”

“Since you are Helmetter Number Two, as your Senpai, I shall give you a stylish present.”

Ryuuko rummaged through her sub-bag. After tossing out the neatly packed uniforms and basketball shoes onto the hospital floor, what she pulled out was a yellow helmet that matched her own. However, perhaps because it was an older model, the paint was chipped in several places. Makoto also noticed that the back of it had “Class 2-3, Mifune Ryuuko” written on it. With a grin, Ryuuko pressed the helmet toward him.

“Equip it immediately!”

“Wait, uh, He-Helmetter?”

“It refers to a person wearing a helmet!”

“That naming is way too straightforward. Even a Mettool would be shocked.”

“Come on, Niwa-kun, join the Follow Ryuuko-san Campaign! Bring it on!” Ryuuko chirped, playfully thumping her own helmet and her head. Makoto fiddled with the hand-me-down helmet for a moment but eventually gave in to Ryuuko’s prompting and tried it on.

“I’ve never actually worn a bicycle helmet before.”

“Oh, Niwaru.”

“Is that short for ‘Niwa-kun the Scoundrel’?”

“Mumumu… To see through that without even an explanation, you’re quite something.”

It wasn’t so much that he had seen through it; it was just that someone else said the exact same thing.

With a dubious expression, Makoto put on the helmet and finished adjusting the chin strap. Whether the helmet was too small or not, it sat on his head awkwardly.

“……………………………”

The sight of a high school student wearing an old helmet while clad in hospital clothes, with his leg in a cast, lying propped up in bed, could only be described as bizarre. Makoto felt a wave of relief that there were no mirrors nearby.

“Now I’m really looking forward to your discharge, Niwa-kun! Beautiful!”

Ryuuko gave him a thumbs up. Makoto laughed, though the movement was limited only to his mouth.

“So, you didn’t care about my recovery until now, then?”

“Th-that’s not true at all! Honestly, Niwa-kun, you’re too much.”

She tapped Makoto on the shoulder with a flustered air. Makoto let out another boisterous laugh, though it was again limited to everything except his eyes.

“Come to think of it, why are you here visiting today?”

“Hehehe, there’s no particular reason for my visit.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Just kidding! There actually is a reason. Geez, Niwa-kun, you really are a cool one, aren’t you?”

Secretly, Makoto found himself longing for a reason that implied a somewhat grander leap in their relationship. Meanwhile, Ryuuko smiled carefreeley, uprooting and feeling that adolescent wish entirely.

“I just thought that maybe you didn’t have any friends to come visit you yet. So, Ryuuko-san is acting as the human sacrifice! No, wait, that’s not what I meant. A substitute, a leader, yes, I came here as a representative!”

“…I am deeply moved by your thoughtfulness.”

After that, Ryuuko sang passionately about whether she could make a hundred friends before heading home.

“Don’t tell me you only came here to put a helmet on my head?”

As if to flee from that question, Makoto continued to stare down the wall while still wearing his helmet.

“…Well, your time with Ryuushi-san is only starting. Yeah.”

“Here, catch the ball.”

“Humm?”

The boy tossed a soccer ball toward Makoto, who had been acting a bit dazed for a moment. It wasn’t a lofted arc but a powerful, straight pass. Makoto caught the ball, even as his palm went slightly numb from the impact. He ran his hand over the surface, as if enjoying the prickly texture that was far from smooth.

“Are you on a soccer team or something?”

“Yeah, just a lame local one. They only let me play in a few matches here and there, though.”

“That’s still plenty, isn’t it?”

Comparing the boy to his own past, Makoto evaluated him. The boy gave an embarrassed, vague smile and fidgeted with his hair. After throwing the ball back to the boy, Makoto adjusted his posture slightly.

“I’ve never even played in a single match.”

“You aren’t very good?”

Makoto’s throat tightened at the boy’s blunt question.

“Ah, sorry.”

Sensing his slip-up from Makoto’s reaction, the boy bowed his head. Makoto waved his hand dismissively, telling him it was fine.

“It’s not like I’m playing seriously in a club or anything. But as long as you enjoy kicking the ball, that’s all that matters.”

“I mean, I want to play in matches too. Aaah, because of this injury, my chances of being a regular are slipping away.”

The boy pouted as if sulking. Seeing this, Makoto tried to behave with the maturity of an elder.

“There’s no need to rush. You should be recovered in time for summer vacation.”

“But still. We’ll be fighting the old guys from the amateur baseball leagues for field space during summer vacation.”

“Heh?…”

When he heard the word baseball, Makoto thought of Maekawa. He wondered if his classmate, who claimed to be a mysterious advisor, was out strutting through the town today in her usual eccentric outfit. As he imagined her various appearances, a smile spread across Makoto’s face.

“A-ny-way. I can’t wait to be discharged.”

The boy kicked the bed with his uninjured right foot, the thud of his heel drumming against the frame. Whether the impact reverberated through his left leg or not, the boy began to wail in agony, and Makoto watched him with a wry smile.

He wondered what would be waiting for him once he was discharged.

As Makoto stared into the distance, his eyes filled with half-anxiety about a future he could not concretely envision, a purple shadow cast itself across the entrance of the hospital room. A slender, purple body entered, looking as though it might strike its head against the top of the doorway. Both Makoto and the boy widened their eyes in near-simultaneous shock at the sight of the girl clad in an eggplant mascot costume.

Their expressions of astonishment were so identical, they looked like siblings or twins.

“Hey there, transfer student! Eggplant Maekawa-san came to visit you!”

Maekawa approached Makoto with a bright laugh. Limbs even more flimsy than bean sprouts protruded from the venomously deep purple eggplant costume. And beneath the green stem sat Maekawa’s face. Waddling forward with a cramped gait, tilting her body rhythmically from side to side, she came to a halt beside Makoto’s bed.

By then, Makoto had shaken off his initial shock, though his right cheek twitched slightly.

“Ah, here’s a get-well gift.”

Maekawa pulled two paperbacks from inside the eggplant and handed them to Makoto.

They were the two volumes of The Time Ships.

Makoto grew visibly excited, even pumping his fist instinctively. It was certainly a welcome sight, but…

“Eggplant Maekawa-san… aren’t you missing something important?”

Like this! Like this! He spread his fingertips horizontally, as if emphasising a long vowel.

“Unfortunately, I don’t own a nurse’s outfit. So, I had to substitute it with an eggplant.”

“That’s not even close.” As Makoto fell silent and lamented, the young boy timidly interrupted the conversation. He was clutching a soccer ball tightly in both arms, as if it were a protective charm.

“Are you this onii-san’s girlfriend…maybe?”

“No, I’m an eggplant.”

Maekawa grinned at Makoto, who had replied with a deadpan expression.

“Fu fu fu, responding so instantly… are you feeling a bit shy?”

“Why aren’t you the one blushing… even though you’re an eggplant?”

“If anything, it’s precisely because I’m an eggplant.”

Maekawa looked proud of her retort, which hadn’t answered his question at all. However, Makoto let out a small snort at her confident declaration, and the anxiety that had been building within him began to subside. He couldn’t vent all of his unease, but he was able to push it back deep inside, making his heart feel a little lighter.

“Hey, Maekawa-san.”

Makoto spoke to her with a lighter tone than before. As if sensing the change, Maekawa’s voice softened too.

“What is it?”

“Will you be my friend?”

At first, Maekawa wore an expression as if she had been caught off guard. But she soon nodded with eager agreement.

“I don’t mind at all. In fact, that’s the whole reason I came here today.”

“Whoa, you’re in a great mood. And here I thought you only came here to perform your eggplant and nurse routine.”

Ignoring Makoto’s remark, Maekawa leaned forward as if to peer into the bed. Then, she smiled.

“You can rest easy; I don’t have any of my friend’s cosplay outfits.”

“…Ha ha. Having a friend come visit you in the hospital… that’s a massive amount of Youth Points right there.”

Makoto, Ryuuko, and Maekawa.

And a sky of light blue.

Makoto laughed, feeling that the vague future had suddenly taken on concrete form and hope.

A few days after that incident, another visitor appeared at Makoto’s side.

To be precise, she was attempting to appear, hiding herself at the entrance of the hospital room. She was peeking half her face out, stealthily observing the state of the room. Makoto narrowed his eyes in exasperation, still holding up his paperback book.

“She’s so obvious,” he muttered, scowling as he watched the particles drifting from his thick hair.

“Hey, just come in.”

When Makoto beckoned, the eyelids of Touwa Erio, who was hiding, twitched in response. She then pulled her face back. However, the tips of her hair, swayed by the movement, could be seen peeking from the doorway. Makoto closed his paperback book, placed it on the desk beside his bed, and sat up. He carefully unhooked his suspended leg and lowered his unbroken left foot to the floor. Pushing off the bed with both hands, he stood up. Although moving without using his crutches was forbidden, Makoto ignored the rule and hopped on one leg toward the entrance.

After coming to a halt while leaning against the wall near the doorway, Makoto lightly tugged on that light blue hair.

“Kyau!”

A scream erupted from beyond the wall. Makoto released her hair, laughing carefree like a child whose prank had succeeded. Then, Erio immediately poked her head into the hospital room, brushing her hair back as if to shield it with her hand. As her eyes met Makoto’s, who was standing by the entrance, Erio froze. Her light blue eyes fixed upon him, coming into focus. Being stared at by those peculiar eyes made Makoto feel a strange, ticklish sensation.

“Yo.”

“…Mm.”

Erio gave a small nod. After that, Makoto was unable to say anything to her right away, and an awkward atmosphere drifted between them. It was the first time Makoto and Erio had faced each other like this since they had parted on the sandy beach.

“Well, come in.”

Since maintaining his posture was becoming difficult, Makoto invited her into the room. Though she kept her head bowed, Erio followed his lead and walked in after him. Toward the end, Makoto practically collapsed as he returned to his bed.

“Ow, ow, ow…”

The impact of hitting the bed with his backside reverberated through his legs, causing Makoto to grimace. Reflecting on his unplanned actions, Makoto looked up at Erio. Without even providing a chair for him, Erio stood awkwardly by the bedside. When their eyes met, she immediately looked away and let out a low groan. Seeing that gesture, which reminded him of a child fearful of being scolded, the tension left Makoto’s shoulders. After a single clearing of his throat, he spoke to her.

“Hey, cousin, what was your job again?”

Erio’s shoulders twitched in response. Her downcast eyes caught Makoto’s, appearing to plead, “You’re so mean.” A boyish sense of mischief stirred within Makoto, and he waited for her reply with a smirk. Erio kept her head bowed for a short moment, but eventually, she opened her lips as if she had made a decision. There was nothing resolute about it; she looked like a lost puppy.

“Touwa, Erio… U-unemployed.”

“Don’t put up a futile resistance.”

“Uhhgh.”

Erio groaned resentfully. Makoto laughed, certain that her attitude had changed from before.

Staring at that smile from Makoto, Erio straightened her back, looking just a little relieved.

“Cousin, are you well?”

Even though he had introduced himself, Erio did not call him by his name. Makoto let his eyes wander, thinking, “Whatever.”

“I am, aside from my leg.”

“Right.”

It was an answer as short as one could possibly be. At that, the conversation between Makoto and the others ground to a halt. As if trying to escape the awkwardness that began to cloud the air once more, Makoto scratched his cheek. He looked up at Erio, hoping she might say something since she was the one who had approached him, but Erio directed a similar gaze back at him.

Her previously overconfident attitude, fuelled by her delusions, had completely vanished; all that remained were the fragments of a girl who felt like a lost child, wary of the outside world. Sensing this, Makoto felt he had no choice but to speak again.

“Ah, well, listen…”

“Hmm.”

“Once I’m out of the hospital, let’s play soccer.”

“…Soc-cer?”

Erio tilted her head, looking as though she had heard the word for the very first time. Makoto raised both hands toward the boy sitting on the other side of Erio, as if prompting him. The boy, who had been watching their interaction, specifically Erio’s hair, with great interest, seemed to grasp the meaning of Makoto’s gesture. He tossed the soccer ball he had been rolling in his hands toward Makoto. A satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of Makoto’s lips as he caught the ball.

“It’s a wonderful sport where you kick this around. It’s also a rare type of ball game where heading the ball is allowed.”

“I-I know that.”

Makoto tossed the ball lightly toward Erio. Like a girl having a snake or an insect thrown at her, Erio recoiled violently, nearly slamming the back of her head against the window, but she managed to catch the ball.

It looked as though she had lunged her upper body forward with poor balance, her posture unsteady, and had barely managed to intercept it.

“Th-that was a sharp catch.”

“Was it so graceful that you felt the need to praise yourself?”

“I-it’s fine. Ugh, soccer… will we play it?”

“I’ve indulged your whims plenty; now you’re going to indulge my hobby.”

Makoto let out a small, somewhat apologetic chuckle in his own way. He was well aware that it didn’t quite come across as convincing. Erio looked up, appearing either ashamed by the subject he had brought up or as if she had something to say, but she simply swallowed her words without speaking. All she managed to say was:

“F-fine, whatever.”

That was the only reply she managed to muster. After throwing the ball back at Makoto, Erio ran off with a light, hurried gait.

Makoto did not stop her, watching her leave in silence. After Erio vanished from the hospital room and the hallway, he slumped back onto the bed from his sitting position. He rolled his shoulders up and down, trying to work out the stiffness.

As if waiting for the moment Makoto exhaled, the boy in the adjacent bed spoke up.

“Onii-san, was this girl your girlfriend?”

“Ah? No, no, that’s not it. She’s…”

He wasn’t sure how to put it. The words wouldn’t come immediately, and Makoto’s eyes drifted. An airplane flew leisurely through the sky where his gaze had wandered. After watching the sound and the flight for a while, Makoto said:

“She’s an alien who can’t even fly through the sky.”

After catching a glimpse of the boy’s suspicious expression out of the corner of his eye, Makoto hugged the ball to his chest and closed his eyes.

In the darkness that spread behind his eyelids, Makoto saw light blue particles dancing about.

And then, the day of his discharge arrived, a week into June.

As Makoto’s legs regained their freedom, a girl wrapped tightly in a futon appeared before him like a welcoming committee.

“Mofu.”

“…Why are you wrapped in a futon?”

“Mofumofu.”

“…Hey, lady, lend me your face a second.”

Feeling so drained he might collapse, Makoto looked down at the sumaki before him. The gaze of the people in the hospital lobby converged on Erio and Makoto. Makoto stiffened, pulling his shoulders in to endure their stares. Erio, the occupant of the futon wrap, remained unperturbed; she didn’t even seem to notice.

“For now, just show your face.”

Makoto gave the command, more out of desperation than expectation. To his surprise, Erio obediently revealed her face. Light blue particles spilt from her face and hair, which had peeked out from the spiral of the upper futon. As the particles drifted down toward her mouth, Makoto scooped them up with his finger. They lasted slightly longer than winter snow before they vanished.

“Did you come to pick me up?”

“Hmm.”

Erio replied curtly. Her attitude was more composed than when she had visited Makoto in the hospital.

The cause-and-effect was entirely unclear, but it might be due to the effect of being wrapped in the futon. That’s what Makoto thought.

“Mum asked me to.”

Makoto felt a sense of admiration, though his expression remained unchanged, wondering if she had started having normal conversations with her mother.

“Meme-san did? Knowing her, I thought she would have come to pick me up herself, just as an excuse to skip work.”

“Actually, that’s what happened.”

Someone spoke right into Makoto’s ear. As that breath brushed against him, Makoto shuddered violently. After his hands stiffened and his lower body trembled uncontrollably, he spun around at once.

As if summoned by the mere mention of her name, Meme was standing there.

“Yay!”

“What’s that, yay?”

Makoto exhaled as he stepped back to put some distance between himself and Meme. Meme held up a peace sign, looking quite pleased with herself.

“In response to Mako-kun’s request, Meme-chin has arrived as well!”

“Who exactly asked for this? Ugh, you scared me.”

“I was just about to be admitted to hospital again.” Makoto grumbled, half-jokingly, half-serious.

“As long as Mako-kun wishes it, Meme-chin will appear anywhere, whether in a dream or in reality.”

“Shut up, you succubus. Besides, there’s no need for two people to come pick me up.”

“This is a celebration for Mako-kun’s discharge, so the whole family needs to be together!”

“…F-family?”

Meme smiled at Makoto’s agitation. She pointed to Erio, then to Makoto, and finally to herself, saying, “Fa-mi-ly.”

“No, well, I don’t have a wife and children… I mean, my parents are still around, so it’s a bit much to include you guys.”

“Come now, let’s all go home together as a happy family!”

“…Go to work.”

He gave up on correcting the family comment and pointed out something else instead, but it seemed as though she wasn’t listening at all.

“S-stop!”

Erio stepped in front of Meme, who was trying to forcibly link arms with Makoto to drag him toward the hospital entrance. She spread her arms to the left and right as if attempting to block their path. Both Meme and the being dragged along, Makoto, came to a halt.

“I… I have something to tell Cousin.”

“…Hmm. What is it?”

“L-lend me your face a second.”

“I was the one who just said that.”

Erio dashed toward a corner of the lobby with quick, light steps. As Makoto and Meme followed after her, Erio turned toward Meme. Meme flashed an unnecessarily bright smile. Although she recoiled slightly at that smile, Erio shook her head.

“M-Mom, you’re not allowed to listen. Yaah!” Erio said, pretending to push Meme back with both hands. Meme joked, “Gagann!”, but given how dramatically she recoiled, it seemed as though she had actually lost her balance.

“Eri-tan has entered her rebellious phase!”

“There isn’t a single human being capable of rebelling against you.”

“Waaaaah!”

“There’s a limit to how much one can fake crying.”

Meme let out an unrepentant wail and dashed out of the hospital.

“Hurry and come! Or else I’ll cry!”

Just before passing through the automatic doors, Meme turned back and shouted to Makoto and Erio. Makoto grinned, thinking she really did look like she might burst into tears. Erio, perhaps feeling a pang of guilt, shrank down with an apologetic “Ugh…”

“Is it really alright to be this noisy in a hospital?”

Makoto questioned Erio with a hint of a joke. Still wrapped in the futon, Erio swayed her body vaguely. Makoto readjusted his grip on his bag and gazed at Erio’s face, which protruded from the makeshift sleeping bag.

“So, what was this talk about?”

When Makoto asked, Erio pulled her head back as if shrinking away. However, she did not retreat all the way into the futon but instead straightened her back as if hesitating. Her eyes were weak, yet she gazed back at Makoto.

Then, she parted her thin lips.

“I am, um, Erio, so…”

“Yeah, I know that.”

Makoto laughed, thinking that was a rather crude way to introduce oneself.

“T-that’s not what I mean…”

The sumaki part wiggled. Makoto looked down at the sight and felt awkward, since it made it look as though he were bullying her. At the same time, however, he felt a sense of freshness in his conversation with Erio.

“C-cousin.”

“Hm?”

Makoto remained silent, acting merely as a listener while waiting for Erio to speak. Erio pulled her right arm out from under the covers.

“I’m doing much better than before.”

Erio flexed her arm, as if to show how muscular she was. Before Makoto could say “Regrettably I can’t see a difference,” Erio pulled her arm back and broke into a wide grin.

“T-thank you.”

It was less a matter of her smile being heartfelt and more that it was the first time Makoto had ever looked Erio directly in the face while she was smiling; that left him feeling choked up. He sniffled, though his nose wasn’t even runny, and while trying to steady his racing heart through his breathing, his mouth hung open vacantly. Faced with the smile of a girl who boasted such extraordinary hair and appearance,

“…Oh.”

That was the absolute most he could manage in response.

“T-that’s all!”

With her nose turning bright red, Erio scurried toward the entrance.

Makoto, whose cheeks were also slightly flushed a shade of vermilion, followed after Erio at a light jog, a smile softening his face.

If it meant that from now on, he would spend every day in the company of that smile.

“Maybe it was worth breaking my leg after all.”

From the dim, unlit hospital, Makoto bounded out into the light-filled world with long strides.

He hummed Hop, Step, Dive as he went.

Once outside, Erio was standing by the automatic doors as if waiting for him. Furthermore, Meme, who had already headed out from the hospital, was already waiting at the bicycle parking area. Just like the first time they had met at the station, she was waving so vigorously it looked like her arms might fly off, shouting, “Ma-ko-ku-n, E-ri-ta-n! Having been called out so loudly, Makoto and Erio hurried toward Meme in a panic.

“Yay! You both ran all the way here. Meme-tan’s love really reached you, didn’t it?”

“It came through so clearly, I thought my eardrums might burst.”

Ignoring the jumping Meme, Makoto cast his eyes down toward the bicycle beside him. At the same time, he thought about the bicycle they had abandoned in the sea. After muttering a quiet “Sorry” while recalling the underwater scene, Makoto spoke.

“You said you came to pick us up; what’s with the bicycle?”

“It’s Meme-chin’s beloved ride, the Salamander!”

“What’s with the incredibly cool name?”

Ignoring Makoto’s confusion, Meme sat down on the rear rack. She didn’t seem to have any intention of pedalling. Then, after Makoto placed the bag containing his change of clothes down, Erio hopped into the basket as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It seemed she hadn’t fixed that habit yet. Makoto felt exasperated by Erio, who climbed in hugging her knees despite it being clearly too cramped.

“Forget picking us up; you’ve just increased the luggage.”

“It’s not good to treat people like luggage.”

“When you lecture me on common sense, it makes me want to cry rather than get angry.”

Makoto sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead. He was the only person left who could drive.

“I’m still recovering, for goodness’ sake.”

Without giving much thought to whether that description applied to himself, Makoto straddled the saddle. He carefully placed his right foot on the pedal. He repeated the motion of placing and lifting his foot two or three times, as if checking the condition of his knee. Once the sole of his foot felt properly positioned, he ended the movement and gripped the handlebars.

“Fu fu fu, Mako-kun just achieved an indirect handshake with Meme-tan.”

Meme whispered, wrapping her arms around Makoto’s waist and hugging him without hesitation. The sensation of her breath and the nature of her words sent a shiver down Makoto’s spine, causing him to glance back over his shoulder.

“Why are you saying such creepy, unsettling things?”

“Lesson two: countdown to an indirect kiss.”

“The age difference between you and me is far too extreme; there’s no point in a countdown.”

“Don’t worry, I went ahead and kissed every single corner of the room while you were gone.”

“I’m going home!”

Makoto let out a scream that was far from theatrical. He was haunted by a premonition that, knowing this aunt of his, she might actually do it. Meme clearly found Makoto’s reaction amusing, remarking, “It was just a joke.” Makoto pursed his lips, intending to retort, but since it seemed no words of his could break that smile, he had no choice but to suffer in silence.

“That’s right,” Makoto said, turning his attention forward to Erio, who was sitting quietly inside the basket.

“Erio, take the helmet out of the bag.”

“Huh? Where’s the bag?”

She shook her head and her hair from side to side. Makoto made a grimace, wondering whether she was an airhead or doing it on purpose.

“The one that’s underneath your butt.”

“Oh. This?” Erio responded languidly. It seemed she was a genuine airhead.

Lazily rummaging through the bag while still crushing it with her buttocks, she pulled out the helmet that Makoto talked about. It was the helmet that Ryuuko had handed over. Rather than putting it on himself, Makoto placed it onto Erio’s head.

“Hm?”

Erio placed her hand on her head to check the sensation of the foreign object. After patting it with her entire palm to confirm its identity, she turned back to Makoto. Makoto laughed, noting that it actually suited her.

“If you’re going to sit in that seat, you should keep it on.”

“Mm… feels intimidating.”

Though she grumbled, Erio adjusted the fit and pulled on the chin strap. Once she seemed to have balanced both sides and settled it into a comfortable position, Erio gave a faint smile. Makoto lightly stroked her head as if to praise her.

“Oh, Mako-kun, since when did you start obeying the rules of the road?”

Meme said, resting her chin on Makoto’s shoulder as she peered toward them.

Makoto felt the urge to argue that there was already no regard for the rules, considering she was carrying a person in a bicycle basket.

“I was just recruiting Helmetter No. 3. Like the Idiot Trio.”

“Kyaa! Mako-kun, you’re such a good boy!”

“Please stop clinging to my back!”

With her mouth still pressed against his back, Meme replied with a muffled voice. As if driven by her words, Makoto pressed down on the pedals and began to ride. Immediately after starting, he felt a sensation through the handlebars as if the front wheel had dipped. After the illusion of having crossed a bump passed, the wheels began to spin smoothly.

At first, Makoto hesitated to put strength into his legs, but by the time they were leaving the hospital grounds, he was pedalling with vigour. He looked back repeatedly, bothered by the fact that Meme was still pressing her face against his back, but unable to shake her off, he remained in a state of inner turmoil.

As if to ventilate that haze in his heart, Makoto resolved to look forward and focused on his cycling.

The bicycle continued past the bus stop, turning the corner at the Taiyaki stand open beside the hospital. A few high school girls waiting for the bus cast strange looks at the unusual three-person bicycle, which even had a person riding in the basket. Makoto caught those glances out of the corner of his eye, but without feeling any unbearable shame, he kept pedalling into the scenery that spread beyond his light-blue hair and helmet.

The town appeared flat, offering no sense of the cosmos. Invisible waves passed back and forth above that town. What reflected in Makoto’s eyes were light-blue particles, falling softly as they were buffeted by the wind. Makoto inhaled them deeply through his mouth and nose, tasting the euphoria of becoming addicted to this light-blue world, as he joyfully pedalled on his way back to the Touwa Family.

As they raced across the sidewalk just as the light turned green, Erio murmured innocently, “Vroom.”

Makoto pressed down even harder on the pedals, as if to match the sound of the wind cutting past.

Even today, the bicycle did not fly through the sky.

It simply carried the human boys to somewhere among the stars.

With that, I shall set down my pen for the time being on this observation report of one male and one female sample residing on Earth.

Author: Hoshimiya Yashiro-sama ☆ (nom de plume)

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