Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko:VolumeSF Chapter2

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Chapter 2

• Contact with a (provisional) alien confirmed: +4
• Tired from running my hardest: −2
• Hungry: −3
• General situation grasped. Minute change in flow detected: +3

Current total XX points: +6

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“Apparently, this town is known as ‘the land watched over by aliens’.”

“For real? Does that mean Niwa-chi is an alien, then?”

On the other end of the line, Hoshinaka shrieked. Makoto wore a look of bitter frustration as he denied it, “That’s a huge leap.”

It was shortly after ten in the evening, and Makoto’s body was still flushed from his bath. He had been talking on the phone while sitting by the window with it wide open. There was no night breeze, but as he leaned out into the darkness to escape the brightness of the electric lights, the heat subsided just a little. He wiped the droplets dripping from his hair with the towel draped around his neck.

“I only heard it once from my aunt, too. I don’t know what it means.”

A bystander was noisy, complaining that he should call her Meme-tan, but Makoto ignored her.

“Isn’t that exactly it? Like an alien peering into an aquarium, a face is reflected in the sky.”

“That’s creepy. Is this a horror movie or something?”

“The world and us are being submerged.”

“Isn’t this good? Isn’t it?” Hoshinaka kept asking, as if looking for approval on a finished product. Makoto dismissed her with a blunt, “I don’t know.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You’ve gotten awfully cold since you moved to the city, haven’t you, Niwa-chi?”

“You’ve certainly got a bad attitude since you became a high schooler. Onii-san is worried about your social circle.”

“Oh? Are you jealous? Is that jealousy?”

“I’m joking. Anyway, what were we talking about?”

“So, what did you do after you met that girl? Did you eat dinner properly?”

“Are you my mother?” Makoto gave a wry smile at the way she was worrying about him. “I ate. I had soba on my way home.”

“Was she with you?”

“She was. When I told her there was no food at home, she tagged along.”

The time went back to the evening.

“Oh, okay,” Meme had responded. After he told her that he would be late, a subtle tension drifted between Makoto and Erio. The path leading to the station square at dusk was quite busy, and a group of students in school uniforms, in particular, knit their brows upon seeing Erio. Makoto scratched his cheek as he glanced sideways at the girls who were whispering among themselves. Unable to stomach those stares and the atmosphere of backbiting, he attempted to leave the area.

“I’m going to eat at that soba shop over there, but what about you, Erio?”

“*******”

“…I see. Well, see you later.”

Giving up on trying to understand, Makoto turned back toward the soba shop. Just then, Erio performed a U-turn on her bicycle and began following him. Makoto looked back and faced Erio’s expressionless face.

She lacked even a shred of sociability, yet she looked so much like a beautiful girl that Makoto felt overwhelmed.

“Are you coming too?”

“An order was issued to temporarily designate the subject of observation as my cousin.”

“An order? From where?”

“From a progenitor group in space that is collecting data regarding the possibilities and diversity of humanity.”

“I see. So, essentially, from inside your head.”

While growing weary of Erio, whose every word seemed to emit some strange, delusional energy, Makoto entered the soba shop with her.

The interior wasn’t large, containing about five tables and three counter seats. From the kitchen, where a person who appeared to be the owner stood, one could overlook the entire shop. Since there were no other customers yet, the owner was spreading out a newspaper. Responding to Makoto opening the door, the owner looked up and said, “Welcome.”

An elderly man in a white coat widened his eyes in shock as he was folding his newspaper. He looked toward Erio, who was entering behind Makoto as if recoiling. Makoto pulled a nearby chair toward him while glancing back and forth between the two, wondering if they were acquaintances since they lived in the same neighbourhood. Erio simply stood there, staring blankly, appearing completely indifferent to the shopkeeper.

Makoto almost regretted his decision to come along with Erio. To prevent himself from doing so, he opened his mouth.

“Heeey, come sit over there.”

When Makoto spoke to Erio, she obediently sat in the chair opposite him. The downward motion of her sitting caused the ends of her lush, long hair to sway, sending particles scattering through the air. Makoto rubbed his eyes. He suspected that perhaps some dust caught in his eyelashes was merely making it look that way due to the lighting. However, no matter how much he rubbed, the particle-like things did not disappear.

“Is that your natural hair?”

Since even her eyelashes were light blue, not to mention her hair, Makoto mocked himself for having asked such a foolish question. Erio ignored his question and turned her eyes toward the television mounted in the corner of the shop’s ceiling. On the small screen, which wasn’t much different from the one in Makoto’s room, a professional sumo match was being broadcast. A wrestler whose name he didn’t know was being rolled over by another large opponent. Makoto laughed to himself as he imagined Erio’s daily life, thinking that it would be quite refined if watching sumo was her hobby.

“Are you ready to order?”

The shopkeeper, who had brought over the wet towels and tea, asked for their order while watching Erio with blatant wariness. After Makoto ordered the “Tanuki Soba” that was displayed in the shop window, he prompted Erio. He figured that if he didn’t offer her a lifeline, she would never open her mouth. Makoto suspected as much, and he had a premonition that he was correct.

“Come on, order something.”

“*******”

“If you don’t say anything, I’m just going to order whatever in your stead.”

“Tenzaru.”

Makoto felt a sense of anticlimax as she ordered something normal. It seemed that she wasn’t entirely impossible to reason with.

The shopkeeper cast an unpleasant glance at Erio before retreating into the kitchen. It was not a look of warmth. Considering the way the schoolgirls had reacted outside, Makoto could vaguely discern Erio’s standing in this town.

While he couldn’t help but think it wasn’t particularly wise to be sitting with her, Makoto spoke to her regardless. His motivation was a mixture of curiosity toward Erio’s true self and a sensation similar to seeing a work of art and instantly liking it.

“Where did you go today?”

“*******”

“Hmm, sounds like it was a rough day.”

Makoto leaned back against the chair’s backrest and looked up at the dim ceiling. He muttered an excuse to himself, noting that he wasn’t exactly a patient person. He spotted a spiderweb in the corner of the ceiling and tilted his chin down.

“Do you come here often? To eat with Meme-san?”

“*******”

“Do you not feel satisfied until you’ve said something like that first?”

On a sudden whim, Makoto picked up a wet towel. Leaning over the table, he reached out to Erio and wiped her hair and face with it. It had bothered him that some strawberry jam from lunchtime was still clinging to her. Erio did not resist his hand, remaining perfectly passive. She was like a high-maintenance child. Makoto gave a wry smile.

Once he finished wiping, Makoto settled back into his chair. He didn’t expect words of thanks, but the complete lack of reaction felt a bit hollow. After resting his chin on his hand and sipping the steaming tea, he muttered while still facing the entrance of the shop.

“That bicycle… why is it in such a battered state?”

He had anticipated that she would say something vague again, so he had been careless in the way he framed his question. However, contrary to his expectation, Erio’s expression shifted. Makoto did not notice that change in her face.

“Mistakes were made.”

Her tone was strong, and the denial reached Makoto’s ears in a definite form.

Makoto lifted his face from his hand and blinked.

Erio quickly returned to her usual expression, so Makoto was unable to see it.

However, the words continued to echo in his mind.

Mistakes were made.

And the bicycle had ended up in such a battered state?

He could not grasp the context.

Yet, those words alone felt sincere to Makoto.

The soba that arrived shortly thereafter had a heavy, floury flavour. As he continued to eat, it felt thick in his throat, forcing him to wash it down with tea. The flavour was dense and heavy, and it did not suit Makoto’s palate.

There was no way the conversation could have lived on, and Erio simply finished her meal quickly in silence and left in a hurry. Makoto paid the bill without trying to stop her. As he received his change at the register, he attempted to strike up a conversation with the shopkeeper.

“That girl is a bit eccentric, isn’t she?”

The shopkeeper’s eyes narrowed. The flesh beneath his eyes bunched up, and a bitter wrinkle etched itself near his eyebrow.

“You aren’t from around here, aren’t you, young man?”

“Yeah. I moved here just recently.”

“I thought so. Are you her boyfriend?”

The shopkeeper raised his thumb. Makoto wondered if he would also be shunned if he nodded. He simply tilted his head ambiguously.

Saying they were relatives was also difficult. In a certain sense, a cousin held a position even closer than a lover.

“But you’d better raise that finger to this girl instead.”

The middle finger.

“…Thanks for the meal.”

After leaving the shop, Makoto glanced at Erio riding her bicycle in the distance, and then it struck him.

“She made me pay for the soba.”

Upon checking later, he discovered that Erio was penniless. According to her, she didn’t carry a wallet because “using space currency on Earth would cause unnecessary confusion.” For Makoto, the reason for not carrying a wallet was less baffling than the fact that she had had no qualms about ordering the most expensive tenzaru on the menu. She really ought to consider the person footing the bill.

“But hey, you got to eat with a cute girl, right? That’s plus two Youth Points.”

“You even remember the points from last time?” he asked.

“Minus five,”

Hoshinaka declared with total confidence. Since Makoto himself didn’t remember the topic of points and couldn’t judge whether she was right or wrong, he changed the subject immediately despite having asked.

“Anyway, what I learned today is that particles seem to flutter from the hair of city girls.”

When he reported it jokingly, Hoshinaka bit at the bait.

“Eeeh? So if I go to the city, do you think I’ll be able to emit Hoshinaka waves too?”

“What on earth is that? Like alpha waves or something?”

“Ah, not those, more like a Kamehameha thing.”

“Kamehameha? Oh, like Dragon Ball. The thing where you release energy, right?”

“But if those particles are just glowing dandruff or something, I’m not interested.”

“How uninspiring.”

“I use anti-dandruff shampoo, after all.”

Were people’s dreams released as dandruff? A single yawn escaped him, and Makoto rubbed his eyes.

“Niwa-chi, are you sleepy already?”

“Mm, I’m just tired. Besides, I’ve reached my limit with being ignored, so I’m hanging up soon.”

“Huh? Ignored?”

“It’s my business. Anyway, see ya.”

“Yeah. Goodnight-chi-chi, Niwa-chi-chi.”

“These words don’t even exist.”

He hung up the phone. Then, Makoto moved away from the window and approached Meme, who was sitting in seiza position in the centre of the room. Meme was wearing green vertically striped pyjamas, and her skin seemed more radiant, perhaps due to how damp her hair still was. Makoto felt a sense of wariness toward the freshness of her skin, which seemed far too youthful for her age. He felt that if he let his guard down, he might find himself entranced by his aunt.

“So, you’ve been standing there for a while now. Do you need something?”

“Smiley!”

In addition to a beaming grin, she placed her index finger against her cheek and tilted her head slightly. When Makoto looked her directly in the eyes, he froze.

“I have an early start tomorrow morning.”

Makoto turned his back to Meme and tried to crawl into his futon. However, Meme grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him toward her knees. Caught off guard by her unexpected strength, Makoto tumbled backward, unable to resist. He landed heavily against her, with his weight resting from the back of his head toward his shoulder blades against her legs. As a result, he ended up with her lap as a pillow.

Makoto’s head rested perfectly upon Meme’s thighs as she sat in seiza position.

Meme’s face obscured his view of the ceiling. Furthermore, he found himself looking up from below at her ample cleavage, which pushed against the fabric of her pyjamas, and his eyes were naturally drawn to it. Even as Makoto pleaded with himself not to stare, his cheeks flushing deep red, he found it impossible to look away. He resented the primal instincts that came with his age.

He tried to lift himself up, but he couldn’t move as Meme held him down, resting her hand against his forehead.

Meme’s scent wafted up from beside his face, and Makoto’s nose naturally inhaled it. After lightly pinching his nose as if to reprimand it, Meme softly caressed Makoto’s cheek. A chill ran through Makoto’s body, starting from his back and travelling down to his toes, causing his lower body to go limp in particular.

His body jolted with the shiver, and as he arched backward, the sensation of softness against the back of his head brought on a sense of guilt, filling Makoto’s mind with static. Like a television failing to receive a signal properly, his perception of what was in front of him became fragmented and broken.

“Good job today. How was school?”

“…Haa, well, I guess it was okay, maybe.”

Makoto was in no state for conversation. Regardless of the form, it was the first time someone of the opposite sex had ever offered him a lap pillow. He pinched his leg, trying to restrain himself from showing the agitation he felt while being cradled by his aunt, who looked as though she were approaching forty. However, if such a small amount of pain could lead to enlightenment, Makoto would have attained nirvana dozens of times by now.

“……Ah.”

The moment the tension around his furrowed brow relaxed, Makoto’s attention shifted to Meme’s face.

The shape of her jaw and the bridge of her nose, visible from below, bore a striking resemblance to Erio’s.

Upon noticing this, Makoto found himself strangely calm. Meme’s following words only served to reinforce that feeling.

“And also, thank you for looking after Erio-tan.”

“…I wouldn’t call it looking after her. I just treated her to dinner.”

Now somewhat more composed, Makoto replied while averting his eyes. Meme beamed, appearing quite pleased with his reaction.

“My Erio-tan is cute, isn’t she?”

“Not when she’s wrapped up in a futon.”

“Our Meme-tan is cute, isn’t she?”

“…Please don’t jump on the bandwagon.”

Makoto felt a bitter taste pooling against his molars, wondering why he couldn’t deny it.

“Actually, I have a serious favour to ask you, Mako-kun.”

“What is it? Please don’t ask for eternal youth or something, ow, ah, ow ow ow!”

With a smile still on her face, Meme pinched Makoto’s cheek. After kneading him, she gave it a final tug before letting him go.

“Do you know that Erio goes out in the middle of the night?”

“Eh? Oh, yes. I thought she was just going out into the garden or something.”

Makoto knew that Erio had gone out at night about four times in the past week. Today, she was lying in the next room, still wrapped in her futon. Perhaps it was because she had left before noon.

“When Erio goes out in the middle of the night, I want you to go along with her, Mako-kun.”

“…Me?”

“Walking alone on the streets at night is dangerous. Even Meme-tan gets terrified when she’s coming home from work.”

“Setting the second half aside, I mostly agree with the first. It would be dangerous in many different ways.”

There was no telling when an accident might occur if she went out on a bicycle whose brakes were questionable at best. For Makoto, that was a greater concern than the fact that a girl was alone.

“You don’t have to force yourself if you don’t want to, but I’d really appreciate it if you could.”

Meme pressed her hands together as if in prayer. Her face and the hair cascading downward cast a shadow over Makoto. Looking up at her attitude, she was pleading with much more seriousness than usual, and Makoto found himself unable to refuse.

And where was Erio heading off to all on her own? He was also very keen to find out the answer.

“I get it. However, that’s only on the condition that Erio doesn’t say no.”

“Thank you. Mako-kun, you are such a good boy.”

Meme threw her clasped hands wide and showered him with praise. Although it bothered Makoto that he was being treated like a child, it didn’t feel entirely unpleasant.

“Do you want a kiss?”

“I—I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s not necessary.”

“Then let’s have a kiss to show that sentiment!”

“What kind of sentiment is that!?”

Makoto sighed, thinking of why his father could never win against his younger sister, and at his own predicament, having inherited that very same blood.

However, regarding the matter of accompanying Erio on her outings, he had accepted it positively.

Since his exams were still a long way off, he wasn’t busy with studying, and he had nothing else to do.

At the very least, he decided that he would go along with Erio for the month of April. That was the conclusion he reached.

“Hey, hey, did you notice?”

“Notice what?”

“Meme-tan got her hair cut during lunch break. Does it suit me?”

She lifted her hair, which was no different in length from the morning, as if scooping it up, to show it off.

Makoto, knowing well what a woman meant when she asked, “Does it suit me?”, chose the path of least resistance.

“It looks like particles are flying out of your hair! I almost mistook it for the ceiling lights!”

There was no mistake to be made; it was just the light from the electric lamps.

“Oh, stop it. That’s just a particularity of Eri-tan and that idiot.”

Meme pressed the base of her hand against Makoto’s forehead, as if trying to flatten it.

As his vision was obscured by her hand, questions began to bubble up in Makoto’s mind like foam.

Was the “idiot” referring to Erio’s father? And could the phenomenon of particles erupting from her hair really be dismissed as a mere “particularity”? Furthermore, why did Erio wrap herself in a futon just to go outside?

Various mysteries swirled in a spiral. He found himself unable to grasp where the questions began or where they ended.

However, for Makoto, the greatest source of distress was the fact that the scent of his aunt after her bath was a most exquisite fragrance, reminiscent of a teenage girl.

The following day, while Makoto was getting ready and heading toward the entrance, he spotted Erio. She was slumped in the spherical chair in her room, staring vacantly at the wall. Her bangs were sticking up, perhaps from sleep, leaving her forehead completely uncovered. Makoto found it somewhat amusing. “Did she sleep face-down with great intensity?” he wondered.

“Hey, good morning.”

When Makoto spoke to her, Erio rotated her chair to face the doorway. The chair she used was what they called a ball chair, shaped like a partially destroyed globe. Once seated, one’s sides were enclosed by the chair, blocking out the background noise. Makoto knew that it was expensive, costing hundreds of thousands of yen.

Erio’s room was larger than Makoto’s, spanning about eight tatami. However, it felt narrower than his, likely because it was overflowing with belongings. A dust-covered astronomical telescope sat in the corner, there were two tall, six-tier bookshelves, and even the bed was quite large for a single person. Instead of writing utensils, a life-sized Dosei-san plushie sat enthroned atop the study desk. Makoto tilted his head, not recognising the character.

He narrowed his eyes as he noticed the top and bottom of a neatly laundered school uniform hanging on the wall where he had been looking.

Makoto did not mention the uniform, opting instead to make a light-hearted remark.

“You haven’t wrapped yourself in a futon today, I see.”

“*******”

“You’re picking up radiowaves in top for this morning, aren’t you? Well, I’m off.”

With a wave, he left the room behind. He went down the stairs, put on his shoes at the entrance, and stepped outside.

When he stepped out into the garden, the iris-patterned bedsheets hanging on the drying pole swayed in the wind.

Looking at them, Makoto muttered, “I see,” and glanced up toward Erio’s room on the second floor.

During lunch break at school, Makoto sat alone at his desk in the classroom, gnawing on a piece of bread. He alternated between bites of a long, slender fried bread he had bought from the school shop and gulps of milk. Contrary to his expectations, the bread was simply fried and lacked the sweetness and cinnamon flavour that could be found in school lunches. Because of this, he couldn’t find much enjoyment in the meal, and the mere act of chewing felt like a chore. He lamented that his jaw was starting to get tired as he sipped his milk through a straw.

The tallest girl in the class, who sat diagonally behind him, was in a similar state. She flipped through the pages of a paperback book while stuffing her cheeks with a rice ball wrapped in plastic. She, too, wasn’t speaking to any of the other students.

Though Makoto felt the mood suggested he might strike up a conversation, he found himself unable to take action.

Ryuuko, who was seated near the classroom entrance, was sharing her lunch with several other girls in a group while they chatted animatedly. Drawn by the noisy voices, Makoto stole a glance to the side. At that moment, his eyes met Ryuuko’s. Thinking it might be rude to avert his gaze without reacting, Makoto gave a small wave, prompting Ryuuko to beckon him over with a wide gesture.

“Hey, transfer student! Why don’t you come eat over here?”

Upon hearing her invitation, the eyes of his classmates converged on Makoto. The stares from the group of girls with Ryuuko were particularly intense. Ryuuko herself simply flicked her fingers in a rhythmic motion, wearing a carefree smile.

“…She really is a natural airhead.”

Makoto gave a wry smile at being invited by the group of girls. However, sensing the atmosphere, he stood up from his seat, holding fried bread and milk in his hands. If he turned her down, his classmates might think of him as “a cold, unfriendly guy”. Makoto had learnt that there was no benefit whatsoever in giving that sort of impression.

Moreover, above all else, Niwa Makoto was an honest boy and not so self-conscious that he would refuse an invitation from a girl.

“Welcome!”

Before Makoto arrived, Ryuuko had already secured a chair and prepared the spot. Three girls, including Ryuuko, were sitting around a cluster of three desks pushed together. A seat for Makoto remained empty, forming a square with the other three.

“Thank you so much for having me.”

With a polite bow and a friendly smile, Makoto took his seat. He didn’t recognise any of the girls except for Ryuuko, so he scanned the group from side to side. The girl sitting to his right pointed the tip of her chopsticks toward her chin.

“I’m from a different class, and I’m Ryuushi-chan’s friend. So, you’re the transfer student, huh?”

A girl with her black hair lightly parted and tied back looked at Makoto with a smile that made her teeth glisten. There was something inexplicable in her friend’s words, and Makoto voiced his confusion.

“Ryuushi?”

“I told ya, it’s Ryuuko.”

Ryuuko, sitting directly in front of him, corrected her as if by reflex. Makoto groaned and glared at the girl.

“Mickey, don’t plant such suspicious knowledge in Niwa-kun’s head.”

The black-haired girl, who had apparently been called by the nickname Mickey, ignored Ryuuko’s remark.

“Ryuushi-chan, you’re so quick, aren’t you? You’ve already laid claim on the transfer student.”

“I told you, spit doesn’t come out the hands.”

Ryuuko offered an irrelevant rebuttal, while the girl sitting in the chair to the left laughed gracefully, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Ryuushi is just a nickname for this girl. It’s just a different way of pronouncing her name.”

“Heh?…”

Makoto’s reaction was dull, as he hadn’t been told how to read the kanji for “Ryuuko”.

“And Ryuushi-chan is a nickname with a pretty plain origin, too.”

“W-Who are you calling plain?!”

As he watched Ryuuko and Mickey frolic, Makoto bit into the remainder of his fried bread. Each time he bit down, the taste of oil coating his teeth became quite palatable when paired with the lively banter of the girls.

“And so, as you can see, the three of us are a close-knit group.”

Ryuuko spoke after concluding her play with Mickey. The contents of the lunch box in her hands were filled with nothing but vegetables and fruits. There wasn’t even any rice.

“Yeah, you certainly seem close. I guess it’s because you’ve been in the same class since last year.”

“That’s part of it, but it’s also because we’re all in the basketball club. Even if you aren’t a regular, Ryuushi-chan.”

“Just you wait until next summer, Mickey!”

“What happened to you this year, hey?”

“Eh, wouldn’t it sound cooler if I said next year? You know, like, I’m not just focused on the immediate future, but I’ve got a solid vision for things as far off as next year. Right?” Ryuuko asked, seeking agreement from Makoto. Makoto merely shrugged as a vague response.

Then, as something suddenly occurred to him, Makoto asked the three of them.

“Come to think of it, there’s some weird graffiti on the back of my desk. I wonder what that is?”

He wasn’t just discovering it since he had seen the actual thing just yesterday, but he feigned ignorance to gauge their reactions.

At that moment, the three girls froze.

Their gazes all fell upon Makoto simultaneously, making him feel an inverted sense of discomfort.

Inside Makoto, something surged like gastric acid during a bout of nausea.

“The graffiti, right? The stuff from before she left school.”

Mickey spoke toward Ryuuko and the other girls. Ryuuko and the girls gave vague nods.

“I wonder which it is? A lunatic message received by the person in question, or some other student’s graffiti.”

“Hmm, mmm…”

Remaining seated, Ryuuko leaned forward to peer at Makoto’s desk in the distance. “It’s from another student,” Ryuuko muttered.

“Maybe they forgot to wipe the underside of the desk.”

Makoto’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of forgetting to wipe it. He turned around to inspect his desk, but the newly replaced surface showed no noticeable scratches. Acting as if he had no idea what they were talking about, Makoto turned his body back toward the front.

“That seat belonged to someone who quit the school last year. And a lot happened back then.”

Since the others were not responding well, Mickey spoke to Makoto instead.

“Quit?”

As Makoto ruminated on those words, he remembered seeing a school uniform hanging in Erio’s room.

“If you live here, transfer student, I think you too will end up running into that person someday.”

“Hmm…”

With an air of feigned indifference, Makoto sipped from the straw in his milk carton.

He wanted to subtly ask why the student quit, but he read the room and restrained himself.

Reflecting on Erio’s words and behaviour, there were plenty of possible reasons that came to mind.

And if he were to cheerfully announce, “I’m living at Touwa-san’s house, ahaha,” it wouldn’t be difficult for him to imagine how he would be treated by his classmates if that became public knowledge.

“Hmm…”

He took the implications of being seen with Erio in town somewhat seriously.

However, Makoto had already promised Meme that he would accompany her on her outing that night.

He couldn’t tell if it was because he was easy to manipulate or if Meme-san was just that good.

The moment he let out a sigh immediately after starting to think, the answer was already as good as decided.

Makoto’s lunch break passed by as he drifted through the boisterous chatter of his three classmates who had reunited.

“Here, Mako-kun, say ahhh.”

“…You’re giving me nothing but broccoli, do you hate it?”

“Mofuu.”

After spending an entirely ordinary dinner time at the Touwa Family residence, Makoto sat in the living room watching television. He had a television in his own room as well, but his interest lay elsewhere. He sat beside Erio, observing her as she sat upright, wrapped in her futon, staring intensely at the static of a television channel that wasn’t receiving a signal.

“The universe has miscalculated a vector.”

Erio poked her face out from the futon just for a moment, muttered those words, and then immediately hid her head again. Makoto was utterly exasperated by her “alien make-believe” routine. He wondered if she was trying to claim she could extract information from the black-and-white static.

He whistled the theme from The X-Files to tease her, but since she wasn’t reacting, he stopped immediately.

After about thirty minutes of such useless time had passed, Erio suddenly stood up. Her legs apparently had gone numb since she fell forward. Makoto watched her for a moment, but since she showed no sign of getting up on her own, he helped her up. After sitting her upright like an ornament, Erio looked up at Makoto with a soft “mofu.”

“W-what?”

“Mofumofu.”

“I don’t understand.”

“*******”

“…I don’t understand.”

Erio pulled her neck back in like a turtle. Then, this time for real, she stood up and left the living room.

Makoto called out to Erio as he chased after her, watching her sumaki silhouette walk toward the entrance.

“Ah, hey, you. It’s already nighttime; are you going out?”

Erio looked back with a “mofumofu” expression and nodded. Then, as if to make clearer what she was trying to convey, she began to sway rhythmically from side to side. It was starting to give Makoto a headache, but Erio seemed much easier to communicate with when she was a sumaki. However, this time, he truly had no idea what she was saying. His face contorted with a different kind of agony, caught between being unable to understand her and finding her too vague.

“So, uh, do you mind if I come along? You know, it’s dangerous out on the streets at night.”

He asked Erio without revealing what Meme had requested of him. Erio tilted her head as if deep in thought, letting out a “mofuuu”, and remained standing still in the hallway for a moment. As he watched silently, Makoto felt uneasy, wondering if she was actually thinking about anything at all. After all, someone who was truly thinking would not go wandering about wrapped in a futon.

“Mofuffuuu.”

Erio twisted her body and then made a motion pointing toward the entrance.

“Does that mean you want me to follow you?”

“Mofu.”

As if to say she wouldn’t repeat it a second time, Erio headed down to the entrance first. She didn’t put on any shoes; she was barefoot.

With the toes of her feet, she clumsily and rudely opened the door and stepped outside.

“Mako-kun, please take care of her~”

From the far end of the hallway, near the kitchen, Meme waved as she watched them go. Makoto turned back with a weary sigh, then put on his shoes, grabbed the key to his bicycle, and followed after Erio.

It was past seven in the evening, and the garden was wrapped in a peaceful spring night. There was no chill; the lukewarm air felt like a spring breath. Makoto, who had run to catch up to Erio as she tried to leave the premises, grabbed the back of her futon to hold her.

“Mofu!”

Erio’s stray hair swayed, as if letting out a protest against his actions.

“If you go out looking like that, you’ll get into an accident. Take off the futon and use your bike.”

“Mofu…”

“Hmm? Whoa!”

Erio crawled out from beneath the futon. Her movements were far more graceful than a mere shedding of skin.

Once she had emerged and stripped herself of the bedding, Erio turned toward Makoto.

“Exposing more than necessary my true alien face to Earthlings constitutes a violation of the Duty Agreement.”

“You seemed perfectly fine with exposing yourself two days ago, though.”

“The other day, an error occurred in the auxiliary device used to maintain my protective camouflage.”

“…So, if I translate that, you’re saying the string holding the futon had snapped?”

“To add to that, Cousin’s careless contact with me also violates Article Seven of the Space Treaty’s protection laws, which means it would be possible to take Cousin to the shirasu and deliver judgement upon you.”

“Whoa, so shirasu exist even in space? Is Oooka Echizen aired in space?”

When he pointed it out, Erio casually kicked Makoto in the shin. While Makoto was hopping around in pain, Erio began to drift away. Clinging to the empty futon, Makoto ran toward the shed. He quickly unlocked the blue bicycle, stuffed the futon into the basket, and hurried outside.

Tracing her trail of particles falling from her hair made the pursuit easy. Although Makoto joked about it, in reality, Erio’s hair was unnaturally bright, as if it were luminescent, making fluorescent paint look dull in contrast.

Makoto and the bicycle skidded in alongside Erio, bringing the bike to a halt. Erio stopped walking as well.

“I don’t know where you’re going, but get on.”

Makoto pointed his thumb toward the luggage rack behind him. Erio looked up at him, her moist, glossy lips moving fluidly from side to side. It was the same way a person’s mouth moved when they spoke while half-asleep, lost in a dream.

“*******”

“Hey now, you alien, don’t you have some kind of high-end translator or something?”

“Cousin, are you saying you will cooperate with my experiment?”

Her eyes, like polished, flawless marbles, questioned Makoto.

“Experiment?”

“Experiment.”

“What kind?”

At that, Erio fell silent. When Makoto tried to peer into her face, she brushed his hand away.

“I am not permitted to reveal the details to Earthlings.”

“Then I have no way to answer you, either. So I won’t be helping with this experiment of yours, but I’ll give you a ride. Otherwise, Meme-san will be worried about you.”

When he mentioned her mother’s name, Erio’s eyes wavered slightly. Noticing that flicker, Makoto spoke.

“Alright, then get on.”

“Hmm.”

Ignoring the direction indicated by Makoto’s thumb, Erio placed her foot on the front wheel. Using it as a stepping stone, she leaped and tumbled straight into the bicycle basket, burrowing into the futon without a hitch.

“Why are you crawling back into the futon?”

“Mofufuuu.”

She seemed to be saying that she had already explained the reason a moment ago. Makoto shook his head with a sigh, but then he turned around, feeling as though he sensed someone’s gaze. However, nothing but the vast night stretched out before him, and no human figure appeared even when he strained his eyes. He remembered feeling a similar presence when he first arrived at the station in this town.

“…An alien? No, no, there’s no way.”

He scratched the tip of his nose, thinking he was being overly self-conscious. Even if there were a suspicious person out there, Makoto felt he wasn’t worth the effort of chasing. Surely there were plenty of other people who would be more fun to pursue.

“Mofu?”

As if reacting to the word “alien”, Erio stirred within her cage. After pressing her head down with a “It’s nothing”, Makoto pedalled his bicycle in the direction Erio’s feet were pointing.

“Hey, are we there yet?”

“Mofu.”

“Are we there yet?”

“Mofufu.”

“Areee weeee theeere yeeet?”

“Mooofuuu.”

Cars drove incessantly along the four-lane highway. One after another, tail lights passed along a road that seemed to have been forced into a straight line through the middle of the fields. Makoto continued to ride endlessly along the side of that long road.

He must have been pedalling that bicycle for at least an hour.

Finally, they reached the next town, and where Erio had led him, there was the sea.

“…Is this your destination?”

Makoto parked the bicycle on a path that offered a full view of the beach and checked his surroundings. Sand had been spread along the edge of the road, and a set of stairs led down toward the shore. Perhaps due to the wind, the scent of the tide was not particularly strong, but he could feel the very texture of the air change. A heavy, humid breeze brushed against Makoto’s skin.

Erio skilfully leaped from the bicycle basket and landed on the ground without stumbling. She then slid down the path, which resembled a small embankment, toward the beach. She ignored Makoto’s question.

The lights from the houses were far away, and despite the ground at their feet appearing like a black marsh, Erio’s movements were precise. Since everything was pitch black whenever she was wrapped in her futon anyway, perhaps the darkness of the night made no difference to her.

After Makoto also locked his bicycle, he headed down to the sandy beach using the stairs. In addition to the sounds of the waves and the rustling of sand entering his ears, the landscape was a mixture of loneliness and a sense of liberation, unlike the crowded summer seas teeming with bathers, and it urged him to quicken his pace.

With nothing but the sea in motion, the scenery before him felt like the pulsation of a living creature. As if the Earth was a single living organism, and the oceans were its limbs. Such a fantasy crossed his mind.

“The season is a little late for anything particularly romantic, though.”

He looked around to confirm that there were no other figures present besides Erio. As he approached the water’s edge, it grew slightly chilly, and he understood why no one else was here. The sound of footsteps pressing into the sand rang much clearer than it did in summer.

The far reaches of the sea emitted a faint, dim blue light. It looked like atmospheric ghost lights.

“So, what exactly are we doing here at the sea?”

Erio stood there, where the incoming waves reached up to her ankles. Makoto watched her from a position slightly behind, but she showed no reaction. Standing all alone before the sea, she looked like a lighthouse that served no purpose.

Makoto glanced toward the right, as if looking back along the path they had taken.

The distance from the Touwa family to the sea was not a journey one could make back and forth on a whim. It would likely take more than twice as long on Erio’s broken bicycle. On foot, it would take even longer. If all of Erio’s nighttime outings were for this same purpose, it meant she had been making these long excursions at least four days a week.

“Denpa-chan, you’re trying too hard.”

He let out an exasperated laugh as he turned his eyes back to Erio. And then, Erio began to move.

Facing the sea, she ran backward with rhythmic steps. She passed by Makoto’s side and retreated until she reached the area near the breakwater blocks buried in the sand. It wasn’t just the mother; the daughter too looked like a youkai.

“Hey, so what are you doing, Rooo…”

As if mistaking Makoto’s question for a cheer, Erio began to sprint. Her lower body, protruding from the futon, kicked up the sand with all its might as she charged toward the sea. She passed by Makoto’s side once again, and just a moment before her feet were about to be swallowed by the incoming waves.

Erio leaped.

To be precise, she kicked off the sandy beach and sprang upward.

Toward the sea, into the shallows.

After completing a jump that lasted about a second, Erio naturally fell.

There was a splash as her futon collided with the shallow surface of the sea. Along with that, there was the dull thud of her body hitting the water-hardened sand. Even after that sound was drowned out by the sound of the waves, there was no sign of Erio getting back up.

“Hey, hey, hey.”

Makoto kicked off the sandy beach and trotted toward Erio to close the distance. After helping her up by hoisting her onto his shoulder, he spoke to the part of her face hidden beneath the futon.

“What exactly are you trying to do?”

“Blub, blub…”

“…You want to be a crab? I see, I see.”

After carrying Erio, who was blowing bubbles from deep within, to a spot beyond the reach of the waves, he set her down. The soaking wet futon hit the ground with a heavier thud than expected. Erio struggled to her feet, stumbling on her knees.

Wet sand clung to the surface of the futon, making the iris pattern look as though it were flickering with static.

“Ah, man… you got the futon dirty. And I just washed it today, too.”

He brushed the sand from the futon with his hands. The clinging grains refused to fall easily, and Erio twisted her body erratically, as if trying to escape from Makoto’s hands. The movement reminded him of bonito flakes dancing on a hot iron plate, causing him to instinctively pull his upper body back. Droplets of water spilt from the edge of the futon onto the sand, only to be swallowed and disappear instantly.

“Was that your experiment right now? Flying out to the sea?”

“Mofu, momofufufumofufumofufumofufu.”

Erio moved violently, as if lodging a fierce protest. Her reaction, which had been indifferent until then, suddenly grew heated, and regardless of the actual meaning, it commanded Makoto’s attention. Erio continued to plead her case, but her words lacked any discernible point.

“I don’t really know what’s going on, but it looks like tonight was a failure.”

“Mofuu…”

Erio shrank back, appearing dejected. However, even through the futon, he could sense the meaning of her following words.

“*******”

Makoto still could not make out the words that Erio was always muttering.

After a moment of silence, Erio attempted to fly once again. She ran toward the sea and leaped out. Then, she fell. As Makoto helped her up, a thought suddenly occurred to him.

Touwa Erio.

E.T.

A self-proclaimed alien.

Was that why she was trying to fly?

“…No way, right?”

Makoto shook his head as if to dispel the thought.

The girl, wrapped in a futon that never seemed to leave his sight, was covered in sand, and he wondered what she was thinking.

On the way back from the sea, Makoto had witnessed a familiar face out and about in a truly bizarre state.

A tall girl from his class was walking beneath the streetlights. However, her attire was that of a sandwich. She was clad in a mascot costume designed to look like a BLT sandwich, with a sign draped over her shoulders. She was far enough away from Makoto and Erio that she didn’t seem to notice them. He wondered if that was also part of her part-time job at such an hour.

He hesitated over whether to call out to her, but after comparing her to the sumaki girl inside the basket, Makoto shook his head.

“I’m carrying something strange myself, after all.”

“Mofu?”

Deciding to pretend he hadn’t seen either of them, Makoto began his journey home.

“Hey, good morning! Thanks for pretending not to notice me yesterday, transfer student!”

The next morning, as soon as he entered the classroom, Makoto was greeted with an energetic outburst.

A tall classmate, who had been standing by the classroom entrance as if waiting for a celebrity, delivered her greeting with great cheer. Makoto was taken aback, and at the same time, his knees felt as though they might buckle under her sheer presence. Being looked from above by girls of his age had not been an uncommon occurrence during his life abroad, but he had never experienced it in Japan.

“Y-your voice is way too loud.”

Several classmates who were already seated turned around to see what the commotion was about. Lately, Makoto had been subject to such gazes wherever he went, and it was far from a pleasant feeling.

“Ha ha ha, people with large builds tend to have large voices, too.”

Rather than large, tall was a more appropriate description for the girl. She had black hair cut into a bob and a slightly pointed chin. Combined with her height, there was a certain dignity to her overall aura.

“So, had you noticed me?”

Makoto gave a wry smile. Since she had noticed him, it meant that she discovered him being with Erio. Although Makoto was smiling, he was incredibly anxious about how the girl would react.

“It looks like you were paying attention. So, transfer student… I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

The girl stepped out into the hallway, playfully mimicking Makoto’s tone. Makoto had no choice but to follow her.

“That reminds me, before we talk, what is your name? It’s hard to converse if I don’t know it.”

“Me? Everyone calls me Maekawa-san.”

Maekawa answered without looking back.

“Because your surname is Maekawa?”

“I can’t think of any other reason why people would call me that.”

Maekawa let out a yawn. After wiping away the tears welling in the corners of her eyes with her finger, she smiled at Makoto.

“I arrived early today to wait for you, transfer student, so I’m a little sleepy.”

“Well, I’m certainly honoured.”

He wished she had been waiting for some other reason. Makoto did not reveal his true feelings and instead gave an awkward laugh.

“Maekawa-san, somehow following you like that makes me feel like I’m an underclassman being summoned.”

When he expressed his honest thoughts, Maekawa’s shoulders shook as if she were somewhat pleased by the remark.

Deep in the hallway, they reached a point where Maekawa turned back and asked, “I suppose this place will do.” Leaning her back against the wall, her narrowed eyes moved up and down, as if appraising Makoto.

Was he being subjected to her gaze again? Makoto endured it by mocking himself, thinking about how popular he was.

“I’ll get straight to the point, but what exactly is your relationship with Touwa?”

“Ah, so you figured out she was inside the futon after all?”

Since there was no room to play dumb, Makoto shrugged in affirmation. Maekawa crossed her arms.

“There’s nothing to figure out. That outfit is clearly exclusive to Touwa. Even I don’t have a taste for that kind of thing.”

“That kind of thing… so, Maekawa-san, was that sandwich appearance yesterday your actual taste?”

“Exactly.”

It had been a joke in Makoto’s own style, but she had confirmed it with a simple affirmation.

“Uh, like, cosplay?”

“You could call it that. But since I’m usually wearing stuff like that, is it more like my everyday clothes?”

“Heh, what an edgy sense of style… The other day, you were in a French baguette mascot costume.”

“Oh, you saw that too? That wasn’t my hobby but a part-time job.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I was chosen as the promoter because I was the thinnest and longest among the staff.”

Maekawa looked quite proud of herself. Even from Makoto’s perspective, she was certainly thin. Her limbs looked as if she were cosplaying with pieces of wire. If one were to kick her playfully, it felt as though her ankles might snap easily. Conversely, it was easy to imagine that if Maekawa were to kick someone, her own leg would be the one screaming in pain. That was how slender she was.

“We’ve strayed off topic. Or rather, transfer student, you were the one who diverted it?”

“I didn’t mean to. Ah, and Erio is my cousin.”

Maekawa’s eyes brightened. She looked down at Makoto, showing particular interest in his hair.

“So you’re related to that Touwa. Though, for a relative, your hair colour is quite subdued.”

“Actually, my hair is dyed. My natural hair is all sparkly, as if it had gold dust mixed in.”

“Hahaha, what a coincidence. Actually, I used to be blonde once, too.”

Once again, Makoto’s attempt at a joke failed to land. The student ID photo that Maekawa pulled from her skirt pocket showed a girl with a blonde bob. Makoto leaned forward, comparing the photo to the person standing before him.

“Your natural hair suits you better.”

“Thank you. And black hair looks much cooler on you too, transfer student. Now, where were we?”

Maekawa let out a low groan and glared at the wall beside her.

“We were talking about Erio.”

“That’s right, about Touwa. Just how much do you know about Touwa’s situation? I suspect you probably have more questions than I.”

“Exactly. That is absolutely true.”

Makoto replied, shrugging in agreement. Maekawa seemed to be in high spirits, perhaps because the conversation was proceeding exactly as she had intended.

“In cases like this, just rely on me, Maekawa-san, with full confidence.”

Maekawa struck her own chest. There was a dull thud as she hit bone, and her face contorted in response.

“Ouch, ouch, ouch. My ribs are aching.”

“It might be better to limit your reliance to just your knowledge, then.”

“You are absolutely right. Fu fu fu, just look at this arm. It is quite frail, isn’t it?”

Maekawa rolled up her school uniform sleeve, exposing her upper arm. The only thing Makoto could associate with that arm was a bird’s bone.

“But I think your pale skin is beautiful.”

“Really? You certainly know how to handle women, transfer student.”

Maekawa rolled her sleeve back down. Then, she flashed a bright smile and said to Makoto,

“Alright, transfer student, let’s skip school together today.”

“Hah?”

Makoto’s eyes widened at the sudden proposal. It seemed the decision had already been made in Maekawa’s mind as she began walking toward the classroom.

“Let’s show you around the neighbourhood, transfer student. It’ll make talking about Touwa much easier, too.”

“How can you say something like skipping school so lightly? I was an honour student at my previous school, you know.”

As they spoke, Makoto fell into step beside Maekawa. Maekawa offered a completely half-hearted round of applause.

“Wonderful. Let me drag a transfer student down into the path of evil.”

“Maekawa-san, are you a habitual truant?”

“I’m an honour student, except twice a year. This is the first time this year.”

Maekawa held up a long index finger.

“The first time of, hey?”

“If you had transferred in September, it would have been delayed much longer.”

Maekawa laughed, perhaps finding her own joke amusing.

Makoto tilted his head, wondering if this was really okay, but he didn’t argue.

As far as Makoto was concerned, he felt that turning down an invitation from a cute girl would be inappropriate.

“…Besides, isn’t being youth-like kind of nice?”

Makoto shook his shoulders as he replayed his conversation with Hoshinaka in his mind.

He had repacked his textbooks into his bag in the classroom and hurried out while his classmates had not yet gathered. By then, his heart was already being overcome by a sense of liberation from being exempt from class and a unique thrill from the illicit act of skipping. His steps had lost all hesitation as he descended the stairs with high spirits.

While he was changing his shoes at the shoe lockers, he saw Ryuuko walking from the direction of the gymnasium. She appeared to have finished her club’s morning practice, and her face was flushed as she chatted with the other girls.

“Even that nickname, Ryuushi, was coined by Touwa. Though she doesn’t seem to like it herself.”

Maekawa, who had stood right beside Makoto before he even realised it, immediately began explaining, as if providing a guided tour.

“Ryuushi-san, Ryuushi-san… I see. Were Ryuushi-san and Erio close?”

“Well, I don’t know anything about that. Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“If I feel like it.”

Makoto couldn’t think of how to bring the subject up, so he gave a noncommittal answer.

As he passed Ryuuko, who was walking from the school building toward the shoe lockers, Makoto gave a small nod of his head.

“Zzhey.”

“Zz? Ah, hey.”

Ryuuko bowed back to him. She continued walking, then turned around after a few seconds had passed.

“Oh, where are you going, Niwa-kun? Maekawa-san is with you, too.”

“Just running some errands.”

“I see.”

Whether she was uninterested or simply not listening, Ryuuko’s reaction felt somewhat out of sync.

Maekawa did not join in the exchange; instead, after stretching upward, she stumbled as if she had been struck by a bout of dizziness. While pressing her hands against her forehead and hair, she glared up as if reproaching the pouring sunlight.

While pressing her hands against her forehead and hair, she glared up as if reproaching the pouring sunlight.

“See you later!”

“Stay in good health, Ryuushi-san!”

“I told ya, I’m Ryuuko! Nwoooo, even Niwa-kun has been infected!”

As Ryuuko’s voice rose in that familiar, indignant tone, Makoto and Maekawa exchanged looks and laughed.

Then, the two of them hurried toward the bicycle parking area, making sure to stay out of the teachers’ sight.

“Riding along this embankment like this reminds me of when I was teased, and I was told, ‘If we tie you to a kite string, you’ll fly away.’”

Maekawa said, sharing the memory with a bright smile.

“Wait, is that really a memory worth smiling about?”

Makoto asked, tilting his head as he followed behind, but Maekawa ignored him. She kept riding, her eyes fixed on the view below the embankment.

After Makoto and Maekawa had slipped out of the school’s main gate, they made their way leisurely through the town. Both were still in their school uniforms, a fact that Makoto noted. Maekawa, on the other hand, pedalled with her back held perfectly straight, appearing so composed that her self-proclaimed claim of only skipping school twice a year seemed suspicious.

Following Maekawa, they descended along the riverbank on the west side of the school, on the road directly opposite the main gate, until they reached the embankment. The path was paved with asphalt, a narrow lane that felt as though it would be filled to the brim by a single passing car. However, looking neither ahead nor behind, there was no sign of any approaching vehicles, and they both rode right down the middle.

“They hold amateur baseball games on the riverbed over there on holidays. I occasionally get drafted to play, too. Why don’t you join us next time, transfer student? It would really bring down the team’s average age.”

Maekawa pointed below the embankment. On the left side of the riverbed, a baseball diamond and foul lines had been carved into the ground. On the right side, two rugby posts were set up, and an elderly person walking a dog ran through them.

“I’m sorry for turning you down, but I don’t even know the rules of baseball.”

“It’s fine; I still don’t understand them myself.”

For some reason, Maekawa puffed out her chest. Makoto squinted one eye, blinded by the light reflecting off the surface of the river.

“Are we just wandering around town aimlessly? Ah… What about what you were saying about Erio?”

“No, we’re heading toward the bridge. We’ll be there soon; let’s talk once we arrive.”

“The bridge?”

When he looked ahead, the tip of a gentle arch could be seen in the distance.

“Once we get there, let’s talk about Touwa. It’s not a particularly interesting story, though.”

Maekawa spoke with an ambiguous tone, leaving her words trailing off. For a brief moment, a shadow passed over Maekawa, whose speech had been brimming with confidence until then, and Makoto felt an indescribable sense of unease. After that, Maekawa remained silent.

Makoto followed in silence, and within five minutes of running, they arrived at the foot of the bridge. The bridge, designed to span the river flowing to the right, saw heavy automobile traffic. The scent of exhaust fumes accompanied the cars, filling the air, so Makoto twitched his nose from side to side to adjust to it. The bones in his nose crunched, and his breathing felt more settled.

From atop the bridge, a male high school student wearing a different school’s uniform came speeding down. Maekawa waited for the boy to pass before approaching a pillar situated at the base of the bridge. There, she stopped her bicycle.

“I think it was around here.”

“What was here?”

“The place where Touwa fell into the river along with her bicycle. Look, right there.”

Maekawa pointed carelessly toward the river flowing beneath the bridge, but the meaning of her words failed to register in Makoto’s mind.

“She fell?”

“Yeah. Touwa tried to fly on her bicycle and failed miserably.”

After dismounting her bike, Maekawa began to climb the bridge without even locking it. She went up a little way and then leaned her arms against the railing, folding them inward. She leaned forward, assuming a posture that looked down upon the river. Makoto also dismounted his bike and moved to her side.

“Flying on a bicycle… what is that even supposed to mean? Was that girl trying to act like the real E.T.?”

Makoto tried to laugh, but he was interrupted by a surge of emotion. He shook his head restlessly from side to side, his toes scuffing the ground. A deep unease stirred in the pit of his stomach, and since he couldn’t think of any way to ease it, he remained in a state of agonising frustration.

“She might have truly intended to do it. Even though she failed spectacularly and ended up breaking her leg.”

As Maekawa spoke, her tone was detached, as if she were reading aloud an essay she had written for a school assignment.

Was that rusted bicycle perhaps a scar left behind by that failure?

“Before we even get into why Touwa jumped… do you know anything about Touwa from last year?”

No, nothing at all. Makoto gave a slight shake of his head and leaned against the railing, just as Maekawa had. The sound of cars rushing past behind him filled the air, making him feel restless. He leaned heavily against the railing to escape the sensation, fearing he might actually tumble over the edge and fall into the river. Makoto followed the flow of the water with his eyes.

“I moved here a week ago, and until then I had hardly any contact with the Touwa family.”

Maekawa nodded, as if acknowledging the fact. Like Makoto, she also stared intently at the surface of the river.

“Until last June, Touwa was perfectly normal. Ah, her hair colour had always been like that, but I mean, her personality was normal. She was cheerful, sharp-tongued, and, on top of that, quick to pick a fight. She was the type of person who was short-tempered and always dragging others along with her.”

“That doesn’t sound really normal to me.”

“Doesn’t it sound more normal than how she is now, though?”

“Fair enough.”

He sighed as he imagined Erio lying there, wrapped up in her futon.

“But then one day, without any warning, Touwa vanished.”

“…Vanished?”

Maekawa nodded. She began counting on her fingers – one, two, three… – and stopped when she reached six.

“In the middle of June, Touwa disappeared from town. She didn’t particularly have a fight with her family, and she wasn’t facing any serious problems at school. It seems she just suddenly vanished from everywhere one morning.”

“…What do you mean, how is that even possible?”

Makoto stood stunned by the completely unexpected news. Maekawa continued in a detached manner, unconcerned.

“Search efforts were conducted along various leads, from a runaway to a kidnapping, but no one could find Touwa. Six months passed without a trace, and by that time, everyone except for Touwa’s mother had given up hope that she would ever return. But then one day, she just popped up. Apparently, she was floating aimlessly off the coast of the neighbouring town.”

At the mention of the sea, Makoto recalled the previous night. Was that coast the place in question?

“When she was found, Touwa was still wearing her June summer uniform, and she had absolutely no memory of the past six months. We investigated her movements, but there were no tracks at all. It was a fascinating and truly quite eerie incident.”

“…………”

“The aftermath of the incident lingered a bit longer. Touwa began claiming that the gap in her memory was the work of aliens. She insisted she had been abducted by them for those six months. Eventually, she even reached the conclusion that she herself was an alien, and after causing a massive scene at school and around town, she ended up being expelled.”

“……Wow.”

When Makoto imagined the sight of a girl wrapped in blankets rampaging around, he found himself unable to suppress a laugh. He thought it strange that even after hearing such a story, he felt no particular aversion toward Erio.

“About two weeks after her expulsion, Touwa jumped into the river along with her bicycle. Perhaps she wanted to prove she was an alien, but since she actually survived the fall, it only served as proof that she was human.”

Having finished her story, Maekawa peered exaggeratedly into the river. Makoto followed suit, gazing down at the water.

The water was deep, making it impossible to see the riverbed. A white heron, having drifted down from upstream, appeared from beneath the bridge and swam leisurely. The sunlight scattered in reflected glints, making the light itself seem to flow through the surroundings.

Even as one followed the current with their eyes, it would eventually vanish, lost among the other ripples.

As if waiting for a single current to pass by, Maekawa opened her mouth, breaking her silence.

“So, after all that, it led to this. And then, transfer student, you arrived.”

Now, what was going to happen from here?

Maekawa added that provocative remark to conclude her story. Makoto closed one eye and scratched the back of his head.

“How was that story about Touwa’s past? I suppose it would have been best if she told it herself, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen.”

“When we run into each other at home, she only speaks of things that make it difficult to react.”

Maekawa’s eyes shifted to the side. Her ears trembled minutely, as if she were determined not to miss a single word.

“Oh my, that’s the first time I hear about it. That you are living with Touwa.”

“I kept it a secret. If the others at school found out, it would cause quite a stir, right?”

“Of course it would. First, they would feel creeped out, thinking you’re a reincarnation of Touwa. After a period of observing from a distance, once they realise that you’re harmless, they might start to bully you. I suppose the one saving grace is that you aren’t a girl. Bullying among boys is relatively less insidious than that among girls.”

Maekawa spoke of these predictions as if they were someone else’s problem. After making her point, she glanced at Makoto.

“I have no intention of spreading rumours, so I hope you can trust me on that.”

“Yeah, I believe you. If you didn’t have that kind of consideration, you probably would have interrogated me about my relationship with Erio right in the classroom.”

“Oh, I’m flattered you’d evaluate me so highly. From now on, I shall introduce myself as Maekawa-san the Ever-Thoughtful.”

She decided on what sounded like a nickname with effortless ease. It was plain, but it seemed like something her peers would appreciate.

“But if you keep hanging around with Touwa like you did yesterday, it’s only a matter of time before you’re caught. There’s no way you won’t keep bumping into classmates who are out wandering the town at night or biking to cram school.”

“You’re right… Ah, there goes my rosy school life, drifting away…”

Makoto pressed his eyes against his arm and lamented, feigning a lighthearted tone. It was a serious problem, but his mind refused to approach it with any gravity. At that moment, Makoto was preoccupied with so many other pieces of incoming information that he had no mental capacity left to spare.

Every single thing that weighed on his mind had something to do with Erio.

“……Hum?”

Suddenly, Makoto noticed an incongruity. It was the presence of an unresolved question.

He felt as though one large problem still lacked an explanation.

“I didn’t dislike Touwa. Though we weren’t close enough that I would have put myself in harm’s way to protect her.”

“…I don’t think I have a friendship that beautiful either…”

However, since he had been asked to look after her, it seemed as though Makoto truly could not abandon the task.

The memory of that night resurfaced, Meme’s face and hair framed against the ceiling and adorned by the light of the electric lamp. The sensation of her thighs softly supporting his back, even the rising scent, was all being reproduced within his mind. He clutched his head.

“…Sadly, it could be interpreted as me being charmed by her allure.”

An invitation from such an eccentric aunt could never be simple.

Makoto mocked himself with a hint of amusement, thinking of how he was perpetually at the mercy of his aunt’s personality.

“However,”

Maekawa said, pressing a finger to her lower lip as if it were nothing at all.

“What would happen if Touwa really was an actual alien?”

“…Eh?”

Makoto lifted his chin from where it had been resting on his arm and looked at Maekawa. Ignoring his gaze, Maekawa continued to stare at the surface of the river. Her thin lips uttered the answer to her own words.

“Even if it were the case, we’ll probably just keep huddling together and end up calling Touwa a human, won’t we?”

“…………”

Makoto was left speechless, and he rested his chin back upon his arm.

The weight of his head pressed his arm against the railing.

The coldness and texture of it sent goosebumps crawling over his skin.

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