Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko:VolumeSF Chapter4

Back to Chapter 3

Return to Main Page

Forward to Epilogue

Chapter 4

• Attempted direct contact with the subject: +3
• Succeeded in disguising as an alien: +2
• The subject’s development followed the same pattern as last time, despite some fluctuations: −3
• What a narrow-minded fool you are, Makoto: +1

Current total XX points: +7

---

“Do you think aliens exist?”

Makoto asked without any preamble on the phone. Hoshinaka, on the other end of the line, replied immediately.

“They don’t exist, aru yo.”

“Why are you speaking like a Chinese?”

“Just a habit, I guess.”

“How do you normally talk, anyway?”

“Don’t ya worry about it. So, aliens. They don’t exist, no doubt about it.”

Hoshinaka stated it as a fact. Makoto let out a long sigh at her tone that was so brimming with confidence. Makoto was making the call while standing in the shade, in a corner of the Touwa Family garden. Erio stood motionless beside a rusty bicycle.

“Do you have any proof?”

“Hmm? Because I’ve never seen an E.T.”

“I’ll send you a video next time. Does your house even have a VCR?”

“We do. I watch To○ro sometimes.”

“Oh, nice, ○○ro. I wish I had a To○○ instead of a Smakin at my new place.”

“Niwa-chi, if Big ○○○ flips sides, you will be crushed.”

“Oh, right, by the way, this is about Totoro and… Wait, what were we originally talking about? Right, the evidence for the absence of aliens. Is there nothing else?”

“Niwa-chi, you still don’t get it, do you? I mean, how can you demand something so concrete from me?”

“Ah, that’s right.”

“No, you’re right to demand it. What are you even talking about?”

Hoshinaka laughed cheerfully. This sudden change in Hoshinaka’s attitude was nothing new, but Makoto still hadn’t grown accustomed to it. There was another sound mixed into Hoshinaka’s voice. When he listened closely, he realised it was the clamour inside her classroom. Unlike Makoto, Hoshinaka was likely attending school as usual.

Makoto glanced up at the peaceful sky and roughly estimated the time, wondering if it was almost lunchtime.

“So, about that evidence, well, you know, they might actually exist.”

“Which is it?”

“Well, they might exist, but we can’t meet them? Apparently, there are no aliens in our neighbouring planets at all. No one ever comes to visit us, so aliens aren’t within a distance where we could ever meet them, probably.”

“… kay.”

“If they exist but we can’t meet them, then it’s the same as them not existing.”

Hoshinaka’s opinion made Makoto’s diaphragm shake. The ribs near his lungs creaked.

It brought to mind his parents, who were overseas. They were somewhere on Earth, but he wouldn’t see them for a while. If that was the case, was it synonymous with him having no family?

…Was it the case, though? Makoto wondered, tilting his head. He felt an urge to argue against several points Hoshinaka made.

However, since saying that aloud would likely lead to him being teased as being lonely, Makoto changed the subject.

“Like you and me?”

Upon hearing this, Hoshinaka let out a boisterous, forced-sounding laugh.

“But we can meet, can’t we? It’s just one train ride away, right?”

“…I guess.”

However, if one of them didn’t go to see the other, wouldn’t that be the same as them not being there at all?

Anticipating that Hoshinaka would respond with something like, “Well, then let’s go,” Makoto pivoted to a farewell instead.

“Well, I’m heading out for a bit.”

He let out a quiet laugh, hoping it wouldn’t reach Hoshinaka, thinking that a bit might turn into much more.

“Hmm? Niwa-chi, you aren’t at school?”

“Ah, I’m skipping today.”

“Oh, Niwaru, right?”

He heard Hoshinaka let out a long, drawn-out sigh. It sounded as though she had failed at trying to whistle.

“I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.”

“It’s short for ‘Niwa-chi the Scoundrel’.”

“I get the logic, but I still don’t understand.”

“Well, Niwa-chi, your grades in modern Japanese are pretty bad, after all. So, where are you going on this outing?”

“Ah, I’m going to visit some relatives.”

Makoto glanced over at Erio, who was in the garden. Sensing his gaze, Erio turned her back as if to ignore him.

“Relatives? What’s up, Niwa-chi, are you being passed around from one relative to the other? Setsuko? Grave of the Fireflies?”

“It’s not like that… Uh, what do you call it? I’m making rounds of greetings. It’s something I can’t avoid.”

“Hmm. Well, good luck then. Save a girl and earn some Youth Points.”

Hoshinaka ended the call. Makoto stared at the phone’s screen for a moment, as if feeling a slight sense of lingering attachment, before entering the Touwa Family home.

He placed his mobile phone on the shelf for shoes and umbrellas, located next to the entrance.

It would have been foolish to carry the phone with him, considering he was about to head toward the sea.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Well, let’s go.”

He called out to Erio, who was looking up at the sky by the bicycle.

Erio turned around and uttered those familiar words.

“*******”

“Right, I get it, I get it.”

Makoto had already sensed something about those words. However, without mentioning it, he mounted the battered bicycle. However, without mentioning it, he mounted the battered bicycle. The ride was as terrible as ever. There was no telling when the front and rear wheels might decide to roll off in opposite directions. Even so, Makoto chose this bicycle as his companion.

“This is the same model they used in E.T., isn’t it? I finally remembered it the other day,” Makoto said, looking down at the frame.

Erio climbed into the bicycle basket in silence. She hadn’t wrapped her head in a cloth today. Her hair, dancing in the wind, tickled the tip of Makoto’s nose. As his nose inhaled the drifting particles, he felt a chill settle deep inside. After pinching his nose and shaking it side to side, Makoto placed his foot on the metal part where the pedal had disappeared.

“The usual seaside is fine, right? There was a spot I passed that always felt like a place where I could fly.”

“*******”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess so.”

He gave a half-hearted response, and Makoto and the bicycle began to move. The wheels turned with a strained, screeching grind.

If there truly was such a thing as a Wheel of Fate that governed this world, perhaps it was just as sluggish and obstructed as this. Because it did not turn smoothly, no one could find peace with it. They grew impatient and frustrated, each seeking their own answers. As the heavy movement of the wheels dragged on, Makoto drifted into such a reverie.

Even simply moving away from the Touwa Family home took more than twice as long as usual. At this rate, he wondered if the school day would be over by the time they reached the sea. Though there was no real connection between the two, Makoto burnt with a fighting spirit, determined not to let that thought defeat him, and worked desperately to make the wheels spin. Since there were no pedals, he moved his legs with all his might, nearly sliding the soles of his shoes against the metal parts. However, the bicycle failed to accelerate at all.

Whether he pedalled slowly or gave it his all, the result remained the same. A constant, sluggish pace.

“Good grief, it’s just as lazy as its owner. Or maybe it’s just holding back?”

As Makoto muttered his complaint, Erio glanced back just enough to turn her head. Her mouth moved incessantly in a mutter, her lips turned toward the sky. Makoto followed a small cloud in the sky with his eyes, finding joy in the clear weather.

With this, the excuse that it had been raining would no longer hold water.

As they drove out of the residential area onto a wide four-lane road, every passing driver cast a glance their way. While a futon bundle tucked into a bicycle basket was enough to draw attention, it seemed that the presence of a beautiful girl with striking light-blue hair had only intensified the scrutiny. Perhaps a beautiful girl was simply a rarer sight than a futon.

“I’ve got a fear of heights, you know. I’d be worried if we fly off too.”

Makoto muttered something that sat somewhere between a conversation with Erio and a soliloquy. Although he spoke light-heartedly, beads of sweat were already seeping into the palms of his hands as they gripped the handlebars. It was clear that this was not due to the spring warmth. At that moment, nothing occupied Makoto’s heart more intensely than sheer terror.

Objectively speaking, what Makoto was about to attempt with Erio could be classified as a suicidal leap. After all, he intended to ride a bicycle and fly toward the sea. If he told someone, they would likely scoff and say, “Oh, right, like E.T.” If he emphasised that he was serious about carrying it out, they would question his sanity.

Makoto was attempting just that. Though he could not even organise his own thoughts or understand for whose sake he was doing this, his spine straightened, driven by a surging sensation. His legs moved. His cheeks twitched. The tension born from that feeling served to suppress his terror. That was why Makoto was able to press forward on his rusted bicycle.

The road, flanked by fields on both sides with an unobstructed view, showed no end in sight, as if it were to continue on forever.

Within Makoto, a desire for him to never reach the sea coexisted with a longing for him to arrive quickly. It seemed contradictory, but since both could exist at once, it caused him no trouble.

They continued to act upon him simultaneously, like a plus and a minus.

Contradictions could reside within the human heart, provided they coexisted.

Much like how Makoto kept pedalling his bicycle, even though he knew he could not fly.

Makoto’s eyes followed a small, drifting cloud.

His mouth hung half-open in a foolish gap, revealing his white front teeth. Meanwhile, Erio looked down upon the slope, hugging her knees while nestled inside the bicycle basket. Meanwhile, Erio looked down upon the slope, hugging her knees while nestled inside the bicycle basket.

Makoto and Erio stood at the summit of the slope. Beside them, a thicket of small trees grew so densely that it gave the impression of a mountain path at first glance. However, at the end of the slope that stretched on for dozens of metres, a sea the colour of murky emerald spread out before them. With May nearly upon them, the sea looked calm enough, though the water temperature likely wasn’t very kind.

It was the same slope that Makoto had descended every day alongside Erio to reach the beach. The guardrails, installed to prevent cars from veering into the woods, had patches of peeling paint that were corroding from the sea breeze. The path was narrow, barely wide enough for two cars to pass one another. Sunlight was obstructed by the trees, making the path seem as if it were submerged in shadow.

At the top of the slope, a sign urging drivers to slow down stood embedded in the ground, its edges splintering as if they had been gnawed away. Keeping his mouth closed and his chin lowered, Makoto cast a glance at the sign and stuck out his tongue, thinking how much he hated it. In any case, this bicycle couldn’t even reach much speed, so if he slowed down, he would end up coming to a complete stop.

“Hey, are you mentally prepared?”

Makoto asked Erio. He also thudded his fist against his chest twice, attempting to compose himself.

Erio twisted her waist to look back and gazed at Makoto. Erio twisted her waist to look back and gazed at Makoto. In that state, her light blue eyes took on a perfect shape, much like a full moon, and drew Makoto’s entire attention into them.

“Hmm.”

Erio gave a reply that was not in her usual space tongue, and it was incredibly brief. She gave a small nod and brushed her bangs away with her hand. Such a gesture from Erio was rare, causing Makoto to react with a delay. After a brief pause, Erio looked straight ahead. Makoto slapped himself to clear his dazed mind, blinked several times, and then gave a determined, “Alright.”

He leaned forward and gripped the handlebars tightly. Looking past Erio, Makoto gazed down the slope.

This road descended for most of its length, only to transition into an incline near the very end. Compared to the path leading up to it, the climb was short, resembling the strokes on the right side of the kanji for “fly”. The angle itself, however, was steep.

It felt as though it had been designed specifically for what Makoto was about to attempt.

Makoto closed his eyes. He checked to see if anything would come to mind. He checked to see if anything would come to mind. He could only feel a faint, pale blue light from the outside pressing against his eyelids. That was enough, Makoto thought.

His life in this town had not even truly begun yet.

Everything would start from this slope and from the sea.

Makoto opened his eyes, and then.

Pushing off the ground, the front wheel of the bicycle began to descend the slope.

With a heavy jolt, an excessive impact struck Makoto and Erio. Their bodies bounced violently, and Makoto clung to the handlebars while Erio gripped the basket. Once the jarring subsided, Makoto kicked the pedal area with his leg, which was swollen from overexertion. Though his foot slipped at first, he gradually grew accustomed to it, and the pedals began to turn smoothly.

The wind gathered as it swept through the path nestled between the thickets. The headwind caused Makoto’s cheeks to twitch, and his nose reacted sensitively to the scent of the tide. Erio’s hair fluttered as if it had become a part of the wind, veiling the sky above Makoto.

The bicycle accelerated, yielding to gravity. As if a track athlete were releasing their coiled legs, the wheels meshed together without hesitation. Perhaps the parts that had acted as shackles had been worn away completely by the time he reached this slope. Makoto instinctively squeezed the brake, but the blood drained from his face at the lack of resistance.

The impact from moments ago had snapped the brake cable.

The wheels accelerated as if gouging into the ground, covering half the slope in the blink of an eye. Makoto felt as though he were sitting on the wheels rather than the saddle. The only thing by his side was the sound of the tyres scraping against the earth, like a swarm of hundreds of gnats buzzing around his ears. The thicket blurred in the periphery of his vision, and he grew anxious, wondering if he was crying. A moment later, he corrected himself, thinking that even if he were, it didn’t matter.

It was a straight path, after all.

The bicycle tilted violently mid-descent, and Makoto instinctively thrust his right foot toward the ground. As his toes made contact with the earth, his arched foot screamed in sudden, sharp pain. Gritting his teeth, Makoto leaned his upper body in the opposite direction, pulling both the bicycle and his leg back toward a horizontal position. His shoe, caught by the ground, slipped off, leaving his right foot bare.

The lost shoe rolled forcefully, slipped beneath the guardrail, and disappeared into the thicket.

They had completed seventy percent of the descent. Erio shifted her hand position on the basket to push her body upward. While kneeling uncomfortably within the basket, she tried to lean herself forward. However, the headwind and the sudden acceleration pushed her body back. The basket creaked from the impact of Erio landing on her backside, and something on the bicycle was jolted loose. Makoto paid no attention to it, instead gritting his teeth hard to keep them from trembling.

In the depths of Makoto’s mind, a soccer ball and a goal were born.

Inside his head, which felt as hot as if it were scorched, Makoto sprinted with all his might across a blur of coloured grounds. He wondered how many years it had been since he had focused so solely on pushing forward. The more he ran, the more the world blurred, and in proportion to that, he alone increased his speed indefinitely.

Fear transformed into exhilaration. Each time the real-world thicket vanished, Makoto grew filled with pure ecstasy.

A sound akin to a scream, expressing the frenzy, spilt uncontrollably from the corners of Makoto’s mouth.

Without slowing down even once, he sped down the slope and reached a small valley.

If things went wrong, the bicycle would collide with the uphill slope, throwing both of them onto the road. With neither Makoto nor Erio having even rehearsed, they had no choice but to pray that everything would go well without any struggle.

Pray for what?

Makoto asked himself, and answered instantly.

To those who watch over this town, “It’s obvious, isn’t iiiiiiiIIIIiiiit GaaaAAAaah!!!!”

Shouting from the very depths of his soul, Makoto straightened his back from his forward-leaning posture.

As if in response, the bicycle moved along the steep angle of the valley, narrowly avoiding a collision.

The direction of their bodies shifted as dizzyingly fast as a roller coaster.

The uphill climb was but a fraction of the descent, ending in the blink of an eye.

Beyond the slope lay something blue.

The sky, and beyond the guardrail that stretched horizontally like a pure white boundary, the sea.

It was coming, it was coming, it was coming!

“*******!”

Threading through a gap in the gusting wind, Erio leaned forward and screamed.

Makoto’s brain went numb, and his vision was washed in white. Even his forward view was obscured by Erio’s back.

Then, Makoto himself let out a great shout, so intense that the corners of his mouth split and the taste of blood seeped in.

It was a scream overflowing with a spirit that seemed ready to swallow the sea.

“********!”

I *** ***!

I *a* f**!

“I *an f*y!”

“I can*f*y!”

*******.

I can fly.

I, can, fly!

“”Aaaaaaaaaaaaaay!””

Both arms lifted the handlebars as if performing a wheelie,

“”Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!””

The bicycle responded by severing ties with the slope, its front wheel leaping upward,

“To!”

Only Makoto uttered that single, solitary syllable.

“”FlyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyYYYYYYYyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyYYYYYYYYyyyyyyyyyyy!””

Niwa Makoto and Touwa Erio soared over the road and the guardrail.

The wheels spun uselessly in the air. They raced through the sky. No matter how far Makoto stretched his legs, there was no ground beneath them.

They were flying.

The bicycle was flying through the sky.

The leap felt as though it would last forever. The sensation of his hands gripping the handlebars vanished, and everything felt weightless.

Light blue particles traced the trajectory of their flight, stretching out further and further into the void.

Makoto caught the sound of a cheer rising from the bicycle basket.

It was Erio’s voice.

Immediately after he strained to hear it, the bicycle lurched forward with a heavy thud.

The gravity pressing down on both shoulders felt as though it might crush his arms.

Makoto’s scream drowned out Erio’s cheer.

The bicycle snapped in two from the centre, and the front wheel, the basket, and Erio drifted away from Makoto.

Particles also descended, heading toward the sea.

Unable to even brace for impact, Makoto and the others slammed into the surface of the ocean.

“Ah?”

By the time he realised it, Makoto was looking up at the scenery.

A green expanse of sea spread out around him, and his vision was hazy, as if viewed through a filter.

He knew he was floating on the surface of the sea, but the sensation of being swayed by the waves was cut off.

Makoto’s head felt light and dreamlike, leaving him unable to even process the confusion of the situation.

As he drifted, a man’s scream drifted down from the top of the cliff ahead.

As Makoto gazed blankly, a boy on a bicycle flew over the guardrail, accompanied by a sumaki girl in the basket. He recognised both the boy and the girl.

They were the same faces and figures he saw every morning in the mirror and around his house.

The boy, who looked exactly like Makoto, clung to the handlebars, while the sumaki girl was a size smaller than Erio and leaned forward, reaching toward the sun. The bicycle was of a different type, and it did not bear the red and white legendary colours. It did not snap in half mid-air; instead, it plummeted headfirst.

“What on earth is this?” Makoto finally jolted from his daze, but it was too late.

A boy who was his spitting image was falling from the sky.

As Makoto gazed blankly, a boy on a bicycle flew over the guardrail, accompanied by a sumaki girl in the basket. He recognised both the boy and the girl.

In that instant, their eyes met, and both were struck with shock.

Then, the two of them collided, as if to crack each other’s foreheads.

“Baa?”

By the time he realised what had happened, Makoto was foaming at the mouth.

His body would not move as he intended, and the ringing in his ears was severe. He swung his arms, but the movement felt heavy. His mind grew confused by his inability to move as he willed, and he could not calmly grasp his own condition.

No matter how much he flailed his limbs wildly, the situation showed no signs of improving.

It was only then that Makoto finally realised he was underwater.

Makoto had been unconscious when he struck the surface of the sea. Fortunately, he regained consciousness after about ten seconds and hurriedly struggled toward the surface. The bicycle that was supposed to have jumped in with him had already been swept away somewhere in the depths.

“Bah… Bobobaga?”

Then, was what he had just seen merely a dream?

Of course it was; there was no way there could be two of him.

Exhaling even his precious oxygen, Makoto remained at the mercy of his illusions.

Once his breathing had steadied, Makoto looked up toward the direction of the light to check the surface of the water. He acted with caution, as he had been tossed about underwater for some time and his sense of up and down had become blurred. It was then that Makoto discovered a foot protruding above the surface.

It was Erio’s foot, floating on the sea. Makoto paddled toward it, straining through the water. Whether there was no air left in his lungs or not, the very act of moving his body immediately brought on a sensation of suffocating distress. His limbs were also numb from the impact of the dive, and if he let his guard down, he felt as though the ocean current might sweep him away. Makoto desperately pushed toward the light.

Just before losing consciousness once again, Makoto broke the surface. Immediately after emerging, seawater sprayed from his nose and mouth. It seemed that water had entered his body while he was unconscious, as it overflowed like a fountain. Tears spilt from his wide-open eyes, and not a single orifice on his face escaped the flow of liquid. Fluid was also dripping from his ears.

In stark contrast to Makoto, Erio remained composed. Her hair, soaked with seawater, hung down to cover her face. Her mouth was twisted in a frown, and her eyes openly betrayed her discomfort. Between bouts of coughing up seawater, Makoto tried to smile at her. But rather than a smirk, his expression was merely contorted.

Eventually, Makoto finished coughing up the seawater, and after several minutes of choking, he regained some semblance of composure. Perhaps because the saltwater had reached deep into his nasal passages, a sharp pain raced through him, centred in his forehead. His spine ached from the excessive coughing, and the intense, direct sunlight felt as though it were scorching his head. Every single one of these sensations was an unbearable, lingering agony, yet amidst it all, Makoto faced Erio.

Observing Erio’s sullen expression, Makoto light-heartedly cracked a joke, feigning composure.

Every single one of these sensations was an unbearable, lingering agony, yet amidst it all, Makoto faced Erio.

“See? I told you it was impossible, didn’t I?”

“Shut up.”

Erio’s lips moved slightly. Makoto was caught off guard by her response but burst into loud laughter immediately after.

It felt as though he were facing Erio for the very first time.

“Uu, uuuh-uu, uh, uuh…”

Erio closed her eyes and let out a low groan. Once the groaning stopped, she hung her head.

At first, it sounded like she was clearing her throat with a series of “ah, ah” sounds.

Or perhaps like a baby.

With her head bowed, Erio let out a slovenly, “Ah, ah, ah…”

Makoto did not interrupt her, even as he felt himself about to be swept away by the waves, and refused to move from in front of her. While everything from his neck up was hot from the sun, the seawater enveloping him below the neck was piercingly cold, making it feel as though his very insides were being pickled in salt. Makoto choked again, spitting out the remnants of saliva and seawater.

“Uaa-uuu-uu-aa-aa-ka-ka-kaa…”

A sound that felt like something halfway between a scream and a newborn’s first cry continued to flow, unstable and uncertain. Makoto felt overwhelmed, unable to even look at Erio’s face. He waited blankly for Erio’s wailing to subside.

Did aliens need to shed tears?

He wondered about such things.

After nearly ten seconds had passed following the end of Erio’s lamentation, Makoto spoke up tentatively.

“Are you alright now?”

“I’m not alright. Nothing is alright. I’m an idiot. You’re an idiot.”

Erio sniffled. It seemed as though she was holding back tears, as the corners of her eyes trembled fiercely.

“You pushed me in the sea. I couldn’t fly to teach me, idiot.”

“You’re starting to mix your words.”

“Shut up.”

Erio raised her fist. She brought it down, striking Makoto’s chest. It didn’t hurt at all.

As Erio tried to pull her fist back, Makoto intercepted her. He caught it and squeezed.

“You have such small hands.”

He pried her fist open, unravelling it until their fingers were interlaced. Erio made no attempt to pull away; instead, she glared at Makoto. As the waves rolled beneath them, their bodies swayed, preventing their eyes from meeting in a direct gaze.

“How could you do this?”

“I was just humouring you.”

“Who asked you to?”

“It just suited my own convenience, obviously.”

Makoto spoke with a defiant air. His words lacked any logical connection and were utterly incoherent, yet they carried a certain strength.

Erio faltered at his sheer audacity, falling silent as if she were unable to find the words to respond.

“Ah, that’s right. There was something I wanted to ask you from the start.”

Makoto let out a boisterous laugh, as if marvelling that he wouldn’t have been able to ask until they had reached this point.

Maintaining that playful facade, he posed the question to Erio as if teasing her.

“Why do you wrap yourself in a futon?”

At that question, Erio’s neck stiffened as she jerked upward.

As her cheek twitched, Makoto felt a wave.

The arrival of a wave.

Erio’s wave, which had been receding, receding, and receding once more.

That very wave, which had been pushing back, finally reached the shore.

It reached the parched, bone-dry surface of her face.

The waves of emotion drenched the entire beach.

Makoto waited for it. He remained silent, swaying with the surface of the sea.

He felt various awakenings and new beginnings within the scent of the tide.

“Uh, khh, h-hic-hic…”

And then, Erio’s composure crumbled.

The tension in her eyes and the bridge of her nose slackened, and everything she had been holding in began to spill out.

“I was just scared.”

Sobbing uncontrollably, Erio could no longer suppress her tears as she bared her true feelings. She sniffled, her shoulders trembling as she gagged with grief. She shook with such intensity that it seemed as though everything shining in light blue might collapse and return to the sea.

Makoto pulled Erio closer and stroked her head as she leaned in. Erio clung to his clothes as if desperate for stability, letting out another series of sloppy, wailing sobs. Through her tears, she spoke haltingly.

“Wh-why. Don’t, I, have, memories?”

“…I don’t know.”

“I for-forgot, I can’t remember, anything. It’s weird, weird, odd.”

“I don’t know.”

“Space, Earth, I, Earthling…”

“I’m sorry.”

Makoto continued to stroke Erio’s head. Apologising as if soothing a small child.

“I’m sorry. Would it have been less scary if you had just stayed an alien?”

Erio nodded. Then, immediately after, she shook her head. Makoto narrowed his eyes, wondering which it was.

“But you see, even if you’re wrapped in a futon and acting like an alien… The other aliens wouldn’t do anything for you.”

Even if Erio continued to wrap herself in that futon, it wouldn’t have provided her any salvation. Makoto let out a frustrated grind of his teeth.

“They really wouldn’t do anything; they would just stand there watching.”

He clicked his tongue toward the sky. Erio’s sobbing had quieted slightly, and she turned her tearful eyes toward Makoto. Without flinching from that pleading gaze, Makoto opened his arms wide.

“So, from now on, you can rely on me, an Earthling.”

“Eh…”

Erio stood there, stunned. Makoto deliberately ignored her reaction and continued.

“Meme-san is here too. In fact, I could even introduce you to some other friends. They’re good girls!” he joked. The images of the two girls flashed through Makoto’s mind.

“So, that’s why you should migrate to Earth as well. We’ll give you a warm welcome.”

Leaving his arms outstretched, Makoto made his proposal.

Earthlings, aliens…

Makoto mocked himself inwardly, thinking about how foolish his words even sounded to him.

Yet, without a trace of ill will, Makoto gazed at Erio with sincerity.

Erio, whose eyes had been wandering with anxiety like a child’s, responded in kind.

With a soft “…Mm.”

Erio had certainly nodded at Makoto’s proposal.

Having witnessed this, Makoto let the tension drain from his entire body. As his strength ebbed away, the pain in his body suddenly rushed back.

After offering a moment of silence for the bicycle as it sank toward the seabed, Makoto spoke jokingly.

“Still, the idea of wrapping yourself in a futon… you’re actually pretty amazing, you know.”

“…Is that a compliment?”

“It isn’t.”

When Makoto replied instantly, Erio puffed out her cheeks. Her tears were washed away by the seawater, making them indistinguishable from the ocean.

“You’re stingy. You’re mean. You’re an idiot.”

“You, you, you… You really haven’t bothered remembering my name, have you?”

“…I-I do know it.”

Her eyes darted around nervously. With a bitter smile, Makoto opened his mouth to fulfil the purpose of his visit.

“Well then, shall we start with introductions? Good grief, there are limits to how much one can beat around the bush.”

Makoto looked up at the sun. As the brilliance burnt a white void into his vision, he stuck out his tongue.

He had come to the sea with a girl. How was that? Wasn’t that youth?

“Hey, Earthling. State your name.”

“…Touwa Erio. I’m Cousin’s cousin.”

“Right. I’m Niwa Makoto. Nice to meet you.”

That was the meeting between Niwa Makoto and Touwa Erio.

Back to Chapter 3

Return to Main Page

Forward to Epilogue