Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko Vol 3 Chapter 1

Was it a ball or a strike? I had no idea, so I just swung.

In order to make maximum contact to the low-flying straight, I adjusted the degree.

It didn’t miss, but neither did it make a resounding hit to the centre — a roll to the third base. The third baseman, a businessman-looking guy with gla.s.ses, gingerly picked up the ball and tossed it to first base.

The unusually enthusiastic me was easily taken out. Sadly, my second batting ended there. I took off the helmet and jostled back to the resting area.

Well, whatever. The certain someone who was recruited to work as a bakery’s a.s.sistant might just be more beneficial to the team than I am. [1]

…Like so, the second day of summer began. I immediately joined the amateur baseball team; after getting that invitation from Maekawa-san yesterday, I thought I should always try new things out. Because of that, I headed toward the river bank early this morning.

Within the first two days of break, I secretly went to a batting cage and practised catch-and-throw with a wall. Don’t tell anybody.

Since the sun was only peeking out, the time was perfect for doing outdoor things. I even saw sleepy grade schoolers on their way to do their radio callisthenic. Now that it’s been mentioned, it reminded me of waking up early during the summer when the activity was still half-mandatory — some such nostalgia swelled.[2]

The bank had not have its pebbles and weed removed, so running was easy. If a ball were to ever fall into the river, it’d be considered a home run; since there was quite a distance from the outfield to the water, I don’t think any one of us amateurs could ever hit it that far. The ball might just end up in there if it could somehow miraculously fly along the foul line without any interruption.

Despite the sun being at a low angle, my scalps still perspired as the exercise proceeded. What reminded my skin during this time was not the searing heat of desert, but of the past rain season.

Returning from home base to the resting area, I heard the older people saying ‘good job,’ and stopped in the front of my acquaintance.

“What a shame, transfer student.”

Out of concern, I relented… Still, I took a seat next to Maekawa-san. She wasn’t personally partic.i.p.ating in the game: she claimed that ‘she was the girl manager.’ If that’s the case, could you please have on the proper attire? I prayed.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Nah, I think it’s pretty impressive even if you only chipped the ball.”

She shuffled the… left and right. I don’t want to expose what the ‘things’ are yet. If possible, I’d like to keep ignoring the fact and never mention it again; hence I kept Maekawa-san out of my sight and stared obliviously at the field.

Our opponent was the city side’s team. Since we, the shopping district, don’t get along well with them, both sides were fairly zealous… Well, not really: we were all just having fun. Though we were losing by two points, there hadn’t been complaints yet. In fact, you could even hear laughter. Excluding me and Maekawa-san, this is an old-men team with the youngest member being twenty five. I guess they don’t really care about winning or losing..

No uniforms either — everyone wore casuals.

“It’s only the third day anyway; nothing is set in stone. What matters, though, is in three weeks.” Even with her smile, I still failed to understand what Maekawa-san was saying.

In any case, the pitcher over there was a girl. She’s probably in high school like I am, but her pitch was rather strange: first, she twists her arm toward the left; then she curves it rightward to make an 8 shape. Finally, she released with an underhand. It looks like a softball pitch, but since I’ve only heard of the arm-spin style, I don’t know for sure. It’s just that it’s hard to time the swing, and I’m often too late.

From being struck out during my first batting, I tried swinging earlier. The result was a roll. At least, when compared to the 100kmph ball at the batting cage, her pitches are trickier.

By the way, about her wearing the uniform — it must have been tricky for the older guys too in a different way. Like the skirt fluttering. What stood out the most to me, though, was her rubbing her eyes listlessly, as if she was forced to show up. No, I’m not kidding. Still, what a masterpiece it is to see a girl in summer uniform bustling in a baseball field~ Credits will still be given where it’s due.

“She’s from our school, isn’t she?” Judging from the uniform.

“Yep. The captain of our softball club… I don’t remember her name. We’ve only met once last year when I joined for a while. I think she’s called Hana…zawa?”

Even though she was staring daggers at the person on that hill, her tone sounded equivocal.

“…Was that who your outfit reminded you of?”

“Yep.”

“……” The stance of ignorance has reached its limit. So, we shall talk about ‘it.’

Maekawa-san was wearing a fish costume today.

Since her face was poking out of the giant mouth, she looked like she was about to be devoured from the side.

At first, when I got here and saw her, I almost asked the fish store’s owner ‘what do ya think about this?’ But neither the shopping district people nor those of the city side paid any particular attention to Maekawa-san — they’re probably used to it. Maybe they see her as the mascot of a professional team?

Another pair of eyes followed us for a different reason… Maekawa-san didn’t care, so I followed suit.

“What do you call this outfit?”

“Katsuo.”

“……” I intentionally said nothing. It’s not like I’m Nakajima.[3]

The fins seem to be where the arms are. Even though she flapped her arms about, I pretended to not see.

I know Maekawa-san is a little loose upstairs, but from our exams last semester I know she’s better than Ryuus.h.i.+-san and I when it comes to academics. She’s also created a new historical record in the P.E exams — the kind you shouldn’t be proud of.

“This is the ‘one-handed-fis.h.i.+ng’ type.”

“I don’t see what’s so different.” I can’t even fathom what the other kinds look like.

“What do you think of the match so far?”

“Weird. I feel like the girl in yukata from last time seemed to be more enthusiastic about this than I am.” I sensed extreme enjoyment of baseball from that girl.

“Girl, huh…?”

The face hiding inside the mouth grinned mischievously. The surreality of this whole thing pinnacled with the bonito’s inorganic eyes that focused nowhere.

The white ball flying out from the hand of Hanazawa-san (subject to change) shot toward the third batter (I was second)… Yamamoto-san? The rocket guy we met at the beach during June (he was the other helper brought by the man who owns the Yakitori shop). It went by the bat and landed in the catcher’s gloves gracefully. Top of fourth inning, 3 strikeouts on the third bat. In other words, no one made it to first base.

“Change~ Keep it up with the defence too.”

The fins encouraged me on the way out. If she could wearing something like a team uniform and sit at the resting area with arms crossed, instead of that out-of-place seafood outfit (that doesn’t mean I want her to wear river fish outfit though) she might have the air of a beautiful lady coach instead.

I thought it was wasteful, but also ‘well, it’s more Maekawa-esque this way, right?’ Thus begin the stage of acceptance. I struggled to put together a conclusion under the chaotic thoughts; grabbing the gloves lent to me, I stood from the bench.

“I suck at defence; don’t count on it.”

“Ahahah, you’re so pessimistic, transfer student. I bet you’re like an esper who refuses to go to a TV show but likes to point and yell at a TV screen.”

Getting to point Z from A. I had hoped that she would at least call me ‘humble,’ or that I have a clear understanding of how good I am: I’m just aware that I can’t fully rely on my hidden potential, and that’s worked out so far. That’s why when I first met Erio I… Well, it really doesn’t matter now.

As for the TV thing, it’s mostly correct, though I do try not to talk to myself. I was, therefore, shocked — Maekawa-san’s keen eye is not to be underestimated. Still, she should probably start reflecting about herself.

I jogged toward the infield and stood at first base. I actually wanted to be at this position the least — the chance of encountering the ball is, after all, the highest. For someone who rarely play catch ball, just when would I miss a throw, or simply fall backward? The anxiety was killing me.

Luckily, I can still perform the act of catching a ball. So far, no obvious mishaps.

Show me what you got! I knocked on the glove, waiting for it to end peacefully. By it, I don’t mean just one thing.

Continuing the last inning, the person standing on the hill would appear to be Maekawa-san’s ‘pops.’ According to prior observation, no one else could have been staring holes into me, who sat next to his daughter at the resting area. Just before the game, Maekawa-san introduced me to the team: “This is my friend. His name is, uh, s.h.i.+wa-kun.” I thought I said Niwa~! Ignore the horribly mistaken name that would seemingly make me thirty years older — a dad witnessing his daughter bringing a guy along: imagine how shocked he was. It’s no wonder he didn’t think I was ‘just a friend.’

His jaw looked like it would fall onto the ground. I didn’t know how to react, so I kept a dumbfound look on. That’s probably why the misunderstanding was so severe. My att.i.tude was kinda like ‘the boyfriend who was suddenly introduced to his girlfriend’s dad,’ huh. Now that I'm thinking about it, I’m agonizing over my failure.

In the dad’s brain, the misunderstanding is going to transform like a three-stage monster: ‘friend -> boyfriend -> wuss.” The possibility was not entirely deniable.

And perhaps because of that whole thing, Maekawa-san’s dad had terrible control of his pitches. Maybe the batters were scared of almost being shot? It’s kind of funny how the score difference didn’t get any bigger — not so much when someone is glaring at me from the side.

Maekawa-san didn't seem to mind, though, kicking her flippers against the ground. After making eye contact with me, her already-sharp eyes squinted even more. Though difficult to tell from under the shade, she seemed to be smiling. I smiled back and lightly waved my left hand.

Stepping onto the first base from four b.a.l.l.s, the boy who never swung his bat took off his helmet. He turned and glanced at me, unveiling a cordial smile.

It looks like the only high schoolers on that team were also just Hanazawa-san and this guy. He had a head of blonde hair, giving off the air of a cool bro-type person: in all, he seem like an amicable guy.

And I suppose that's why? Even when he spoke to me, who belonged on the other team, it seemed neither hostile nor startling.

“Did you know?” The guy I've never met before easily produced a sentence ending with a question mark.

“Know what?” I kept my eyes toward the batter while asking him to reveal the mystery.

“About our pitcher.”

“Hm.” Hanazawa-san, right?

“If you stand on the left side of the batter's box, you can see beneath her skirt.”

“...For real?” I had to turn around and ask.

“Course not.”

He displayed a free-flowing att.i.tude and exposed the punchline.

...Oho, is this a ritual?

It's a way to ascertain whether the other person is a friend, or someone who can't be spoken freely with: students came up with it to see if they can get along. Simply put, it's a signal for me to make my move.

I put on a smile after receiving it. Youth can also be obtained from a guy friend.

“I'm Nakajima. You?”

There it is, Nakajima. He may be on the other team, but the sense of miraculous meeting with the perfect side characters diffused in my chest. Needless to say, he had no clue about my excitement behind the silence. Nakajima, who observed me without any lenses, suspiciously t.i.tled his head; frantically, I told him my name.

“Niwa Makoto.” I thought about calling myself Isono, but since there's already a Katsuo, I'm going to stop myself.[4]

“I knew it — you're that transfer student.”

“Does that mean we go to the same school?”

“Yeah. Different cla.s.s though.”

Nakajima reached his kind-looking right hand toward me; despite it being the middle of a match, I shook hand with him. If I remember correctly, the rules in baseball are that you're not supposed to be too friendly with your opponents. Well no, maybe just in some manga… Or maybe not? I thought while the two sweaty hands made contact. Nakajima had short fingers, but his palm was bigger than mine.

But wait, it's already been a semester since I transferred here. Yet the name 'transfer student' is still circulating. The expiration date of my well-known status is truly astonis.h.i.+ng.

It’s not like the fact that I transferred here is enough to shock the school that much. Well, middle school aside, I guess it is rarer to transfer after high school. Besides, I do secretly hold the fuse to scandals.

Touwa Erio. If our relations.h.i.+p were to be divulged, yet another fire may rise among the cla.s.s. The same metaphor applies even for how news spread in a school: in just the blink of an eye, you will no longer have an escape.

…Nothing much can be done to that, though. Either way, I already know my answer. Still, I’m apprehensive to the thought.

“What dragged ya here, transfer student?”

With a bit of a dialect, Nakakjima asked the reason of my presence. After making sure Maekawa Dad’s stiff pitch ended up as a strike, I spoke.

“Nothing. Maekawa-san told me to.”

“Oh~ You’re pretty close, huh,”

He gracefully painted his face full of obscene curiosity, arbitrarily postulating me and Maekawa-san’s friends.h.i.+p. I hope he’d stop: if it were to make it into Maekawa dad’s ears, he might just take the anger out on me.

“But I thought you were…?”

“Hm?”

“Oh, uh… Well, I just thought you are into weird girls.”

“I do not hold romantic feelings for sea creatures.”

Though I love deep sea fishes, it’s like viewing an artistic masterpiece… That’s still a bit too much though, since we’re talking animals. Similar to defining emotion, it is a situation that no amount of contemplation would yield an answer.

Like attempting to check your own back, only anxiety would culminate.

“Ohoh, is your magnanimity why you’re so popular, master?”

“That’s totally not what I said, but what about you? I really want to learn how to have a good-looking face like yours.”

Nakajima laughed, seemingly awkwardly, after my retort. Did I step on a landmine? Maybe he thinks his face isn’t good-looking at all… If he does then the other guys would probably stone him.

“You live around the shopping districts, right? Since you’re on that side…”

Nakajima moved the conversation along calmly. “I wonder~” While watching Maekawa Dad’s third pitch become a pa.s.sed ball and the catcher franticly going after it, I gave an equivocal response.

“If we’re talking about where I live, then I’d say the city. However.”

“However?”

The Touwa would probably be on the same side as Tamura Obaa-san. But am I part of the Touwa family?

“My~ Silly Mako-kun! So polite and so shy! You have to make your heart the same as your eyes that screams ‘My’ instead of ‘Miss’ and become Touwa Makoto! Marriage YES!”

Some voice I’m hearing. It’s supposed to be just imagination, but the sound is really driving me nuts.

So there’s the whole shopping district vs city thing, huh?

Might as well ask the guy who seems mostly neutral.

“Is regional rivalry actually a thing here in this town?”

“A lot of people live here: there are those who do, but many don’t care either way.”

I’m probably the latter, Nakajima shrugged as he added. “There are kids at school who were bullied for that stuff though.” His tone was as though discussing other countries’ problems: lacking emotions, like a comment with no sense of reality. I, too, glossed over with a ‘oh.’

But I also think that if we can create a society free of discrimination, humans can at least survive for another 30,000 years. Or maybe because ‘bullying’ exists as an outlet, things around get done?

“But it’s the worst during the time between big events. Especially now.”

“Hm?”

“Because it’s a mess every year during the summer festival.”

That’s why we play ball, Nakajima mumbled enigmatically. I didn’t understand what he meant, so I’ll leave it for now. Summer festival — the dream of youth. The candidates for my partner… Three people? Erio included. If I were to say that the momentary thought didn’t contain any lies, I’d be helpless. Well actually, it wouldn’t be a problem, right? As usual, I will ignore the omen-like whisper. No, I can’t. For some mysterious reason, I just cannot accept the notion.

There are certain secrets and hidden thoughts.

I respect the heart that refuses to admit these things — even if it means the loss of youth points.

Pointlessly, I fought against something.

Spending time calculating the probability of Maekawa-san sincerely dressing up with a Yukata might just be… just as pointless.

“Oh, um.”

Still stuck at first base, Nakajima spoke slightly hesitantly.

“Hm?”

“I’m a little too polite, aren’t I?”

“Too polite… Hm, just a bit.” He certainly sounded distant.

“To be honest, I thought that if I started something too serious, I’d ruin whatever flow we got going.”

'But I still wanted to try.' Like a dishonest girl, Nakajima explained to me his motivation and the reason for his tone. Please don’t do this to me.

I had thought that the reason of such awkwardness is because we just met, but there seemed to be another reason.

“Don’t you have something you wanna say to me?” He might be interested in Maekawa-san.

“Don’t sweat it: the fun of choices is also in pretending the meeting by chance didn’t happen.”

As if peering at something bright, Nakajima squinted while glancing around.

“Our pitcher is really d.a.m.n good, huh.”

Again with the mental gymnastic. Completely irrelevant. Do I not have the right to cast the die?

“I can never hit her pitches.”

As I declared my defeat, Nakajima shot me a stray smile and gunned toward the second base. What just happened?! My eyes followed him blindly. Well, it’s just a steal. A failed steal.

The catcher, guy who runs the flower shop, seemed prideful of his right shoulder. It must be rare for an amateur to stop a steal. He’s even hugging it out with Maekawa dad. It’s like the game’s over or something.

So this was an amateur game that allows for base stealing? Well, the kids’ rule of ‘five out-of-bounds equals strike’ should be a tell-tale sign of how liberal the rules are.

Nakajima beamed an embarra.s.sed smile, mostly toward me, while moving closer to the resting area. I didn’t know how to react to that, so I simply smiled.

“…Sigh.” I exhaled, looking toward the ascending summer sun.

Like so, I played a game of baseball.

A random group compet.i.tion nowhere close to sweat, tear and Kous.h.i.+-en.[5]

Will I list this as part of the daily life of summer? I’ve yet to decide.

In accordance the rules of the game, the compet.i.tion ended at the sixth innings. The result: 3 — 0. A complete defeat on our part.

Or we can call it an utter wreckage, since not one of us made it onto a base, making it a perfect game.

Hanazawa-san had on her face still an inpatient look, apathetic to the result.

As for me, setting my batting record aside, I've gotten compliments from the old guys… My smile? Half and half of courtesy and sourness, maybe even a little awkward.

A couple of lame bow, and then we were done for the day… That would have been the idea, but the losers apparently have to clean the field out of tradition, so we're far from finished. According to the guys, 'we're gettin' better at cleanin' than baseballin'!' So they've been on a losing streak?

“See ya.” After packing up, Nakajima came to say bye before leaving the bank. “Bye.” Seeing my brief response, he scurried over to a bicycle. Was he being held up? Now that I think about it, I still don't get why he came by.

Following that, while I was cleaning the field with those one of those long-shafted tools, the rocket guy came to talk to me. It's Yamamoto-san. That's what Meme-san calls him, but is it really his name?

“Hey, you are… The boy living in Touwa Meme's house?'

“I am.” s.p.a.ce stalker + Maekawa-san's fan, as well as Meme-san's friend — quite a colourful resume. I think I would prefer to not know the full content of it though.

“How's Meme doing?”

“If you can call a forty year old women who acts like a five or six year old 'energetic,' then she is doing very well.”

She even eats the same thing as Erio and I, so just how efficient is her mileage? I could only think that she must have taken the energy drained from others and threw it into the burner.

“Did she, mention anything about me?”

With an antic.i.p.ating and fidgety demeanour, he asked. Hey hey hey, is this dude...?

“Nope, nothing.”

Since whenever she won't shut up, I just ignore half of what she says; she might have mentioned Yamamoto-san somewhere along the line, but I have decided to not give hope with any false information. “I see.” Yamamoto-san clearly looked disappointed, shoulders slouching. Now I'm sure.

I didn't think he is so loyal to Meme-san… Their age is close, and I will admit Meme-san looks really young for a forty year old… Well, whatever. I'm not so dense as to ruin someone else's love life. My aunt sure is popular.

But I just couldn't imagine the sight of some guy next to Meme-san, sitting around the table in the Touwa Household.

Yamamoto-san shambled away like the summer heat, beginning the act of picking up rocks. What happened next was the sneaky… I didn't hear it or anything, but I felt it. By then I was already used to it. But I pretended to have not notice: please ask your own daughter about our relations.h.i.+p.

Clean up complete. With my arm, I swiped away more sweat than from during the game while leaving the field. Because Maekawa-san was still sitting in the resting area, I decided to go over with the intent of saying bye before heading home.

“Well done, transfer students.”

Maekawa-san gave me her consolation, at the same time handing three triangular objects wrapped in plastic wrap on her fin.

“What is this?”

“Rice b.a.l.l.s.”

“No, I don't mean that.”

“I made these for your breakfast~”

“Oh~” I was quietly moved by the reward for joining this amateur baseball game.

I can't believe I got handmade breakfast from a cla.s.smate — truly, it was serendipity.

Visually speaking, it was like getting a pearl from a dolphin I saved. Despite knowing that Maekawa Dad will only glare harder, I still gratefully accepted them and peeled the wrap off, all the while taking a seat next to Maekawa-san.[6]

Enjoying the cla.s.smate's — no, self-proclaimed manager's handmade rice b.a.l.l.s after a baseball game: it's nothing innovative, but certainly a steady development of youth. I guess it's about +2 points.

Meanwhile I kept an eye on her father's watchful stares — perhaps things will actually go to a better direction. The joy of hiding behind grown-ups and enjoying the mischief flared.

In the first rice ball was a slightly-sweet sauce.

“Ah, it's eel.”

“Just some stuff left in the shop.”

“Haven't had it in a while.” Tastes good. “And there is this, uh, what do you call it, the eel dish here.”

“Hitsu-mabus.h.i.+.”

“Yeah, that stuff.”

“I think it's actually something you can buy everywhere now.”

“Here.” Maekawa-san watched me eat, and handed a thermos to me. If the fin could be removed, everything would be perfect. “Thanks.” I took the bottle and poured the cold drink into my cup, before emptying it in one gulp. Ahh, a cup of tea after cleaning up tastes so good. So what was I planning on doing again?

“So why did you make rice b.a.l.l.s for me?”

“It's thanks for your work. Rice (nice) job.”

“Work? You're kidding, right? All I did was roll the ball.”

“Nah, you made the ball roll forward.”

“Well yeah. If it went backward it would have been a foul.”

“That's not what I'm saying, transfer student. You're just too shy.”

Maekawa-san gently shut her eyes with the embracing smile of a guardian. If it weren't for the bonito's dead-eye, it would have been a praise-worthy sight.

'Maekawa-san gently shut her eyes with the embracing smile of a guardian. If it weren't for the bonito's dead-eye, it would have been a praise-worthy sight.'

You could say it's befitting of Maekawa-san though.

The content in my pocket shook, emitting a m.u.f.fled synthetic sound. “Oh, a mail.”

“My guess is Ryuus.h.i.+.”

“Not telling.” She’s probably correct though.

I shoved the last bit of the rice ball into my mouth before taking the phone out of my pocket. Today would probably be a day full of mails — I brought my phone under the a.s.sumption. I didn’t take it out during defence either: what would I do if I had to pounce to the sides? Despite it being my own issue, I thought of it from an outsider's view.

In the span of two days there were about thirty or so messages saved in the mailbox. Like fruits during a harvest, their chance of appearance exploded. I maximized the mail’s content.

‘Mornin’~ Are ya up yet, Niwa-kun? Soz if not. I just woke up~’

A trivial but cute message; a normal message that is the polar opposite of Meme-san’s overly abstract ‘shuu~ bang~’ message.

I checked the time as well: it’s just pa.s.sed eight o’ clock. From the previous emails, it can be deduced that Ryuus.h.i.+-san usually wakes up around this time during breaks.

Ryuus.h.i.+-san never uses emoticons in her mails. The reason being ‘if everyone’s using it, it’s not hip any more~ Being a chara-hunta, that’s a big no-no.’[7]

Or maybe because others girls have stopped using it too? I don’t have the galls to ask something like that. With a bit of effort, I replied firmly, ‘I’m up already. Good morning.’

“What a boring reply.”

“Uwah!” The fish on the side disapproved its entertainment value.

“Don’t you plan on writing something that would make Ryuus.h.i.+ laugh?”

“If I do, she would try to one-up me and crash and burn.”

Not even kidding — she lost about four hours of sleep a couple of days ago.

Upon hearing that, Maekawa-san raised the corner of her mouth amusedly.

“Fine. I guess it is a little too demanding to expect her to write well.”

She nonchalantly said something rude. I reached for the second rice ball and asked.

“Have you and Ryuus.h.i.+-san texted each other at all?”

“Nope, none whatsoever. Ryuus.h.i.+ never sent me a thing.”

“Oh… Hm?”

I sensed a gaze different from Maekawa dad’s. Looking up, it was from Hanazawa-san, who had yet to return home, staring from a distance away. Actually, following her line of sight it was probably the rice ball on my hand. “Give me rice ball.” If her eyes could speak, the message would probably be summarized with these four words. Perhaps because of our eye contact, Hanazawa-san stepped toward this direction.

If this were a fairy tale, I’d probably have some good luck if I share a rice ball with her.

I looked over at Maekawa-san; she seemed to have noticed and gave a fast reply:

“It’s already yours, transfer student. It up to you to keep it or give it.”

“Hm~” She pushed the liability back to me. But to give Maekawa-san’s rice ball to someone else…

Meme-san’s breakfast awaits me when I return. If I refuse to sit down at the table, she’ll probably throw a tantrum. Or maybe she’d call my mother, saying stuff like ‘Mako-kun is so rebellious! He’s been holding back too hard on being an Oba-con and now he’s fallen to sniffing… Kyaah~!’ The hallucination is as strong as ever, I see.[8]

I will probably be seen as a sniffer for the rest of my life in the Touwa family. A patch of darkness rose form my heart. Well, rest of my life meaning till I graduate high school, and after that… my parents will be back. Will I miss this place once I have to move back with my parents? Currently I am… unwilling, but not opposing.

I suppose that’s just how I am with things.

Enough about this.

Since I still have breakfast waiting for me later, two rice b.a.l.l.s is probably enough. Even if I am in the time when I can eat a lot, I’m not some beefcake in a sports club; even that much was a little too much for me anyway.

I raised the third rice ball and beckoned. Hanazawa-san cautiously took the long road, coming from not the front but the side. Only she would know if the act was purposeful.

Looking closely, rather than Hanazawa-san, she’s more like ‘MAKO*O”. I’m not saying she looks like me, but that her short, auburn hair, and her uniform made her look like she could leap through time. Her tanned skin was also incomparable with Maekawa-san’s or mine.[9]

“Can I?”

Her crisp, water-like whisper confirmed my conscience. Chewing the rice in my mouth, I nodded. I am a little curious about what’s in the rice ball though.

Despite being temporarily named that, she didn’t seem to have a tough personality.

“Please, Hanazawa-san.” I accidentally called her so without knowing her name.

“Thank you, Isono-san.”

The immediate reply indicated adaptability, what with the bonito on my side. So what does this make me? The guy with the long face… can’t remember his name, but the cla.s.smate that shows up every now and then.[10]

“You should say that to my neighbour.”

I’m just the middle man. Hanazawa-san peeled the wrap away and bowed at Maekawa-san.

“Thanks, Maekawa.”

“Don’t mention it. So why are you wearing your uniform?”

“Yeah, I have club practice later.”

“Sounds rough.”

Maekawa-san earnestly sympathized; Hanazawa-san’s listless expression lowered even more.

“You can tell, huh?”

“Easily.” Maekawa-san nodded sharply. Looking at her, Hanazawa-san grinned weakly while s.h.i.+fting attention to me. As though explaining, she spoke.

“I don’t hate the club; it’s just too much work.”

“Oh…” With minimal reaction, I bit into the rice ball. It’s pickled eggplant this time.

Being a contrast to the sweet-and-spicy sauce from before, the taste of salt was even more accentuated.

Hanazawa-san also bit into her rice ball, chewing lightly while looking over me. Her sleeves occasionally flipped upward; the tan line could be easily seen. Am I a little weird feeling excited by this disparity of coffee and white?

“How’s the taste?”

Maeakawa-san asked for Hanazawa-san’s thought. “I might just marry into your family.”

“Mm~ that’s going to be a little hard without my dad divorcing.”

Sounded like she contemplated on that seriously.

Hanazawa stopped before the third bite; for a different reason, she opened her mouth.

“You are… Maekawa’s boyfriend?”

Cough, cough!

“Ahahahah! Hear that, transfer student?”

Am I supposed to show comprehension? I almost suffocated on the plum covered in rice. Is it really not abnormal for me to be with a fish? …That’s not the problem.

While choking on the rice, I made sure to look around. If Maekawa dad were around, I wouldn’t be too surprised if he loses his cool… Oh, he’s all the way out there. Good.

“I guess the days when the transfer student dresses up like a mackerel isn’t too far off.”

And here the daughter was, laughing at her own jokes insouciantly.

“That’s another level of bad compared to idiot couples and their matching outfits.”

“Isn’t that right. Also, the transfer student is like, um… The guy…” she rolled her eyes about. “Oh yeah! The guy who tried to drown himself.”

With fingers pointed to, I was now the suicide volunteer. “Hah?” I c.o.c.ked my head quizzically, only to realize at the word ‘drown.’

Was she talking about that E.* thing that happened late April?

The day when I rode a rusty bicycle into the sea with Erio. So that’s the story that’s being pa.s.sed around the school? Nakajima’s att.i.tude makes sense now, since the name transfer student had been branded with that rumour before that status was gone.

Speaking of which, Ryuus.h.i.+-san also tried to explain to me something about suicide when she visited. Well, shoot. While I was busy messing around with Ryuus.h.i.+-san after school, being tricked by Maekawa-san, playing tono-san with Erio (stripping the futon off her) all while dealing with Meme-san, the rumour that I was a suicidal b.a.s.t.a.r.d spread in the school. I guess I slacked a little too much.

It’s fortunate that the fact that I ‘jumped with Erio’ was unmentioned, but without that I really seem straight-up done with life.

“Oh, I gotta go.” Hanazawa-san grumbled melancholily while eyeing the bike moving on the bank. “Thanks~” Jogging toward the road, she raised the rice ball in appreciation of me and Maekawa-san.

“Mhm.” Staring at her back, Maekawa-san nodded satisfactorily for some reason.

“If you don’t figure out how to deal with Hanazawa’s pitch, victory will ne’er come.”

“Um, isn’t that mission impossible?”

“The future of this team rests upon you, transfer student.”

“Um, no… Not possible. What’s an amateur like me gonna do?”

And we all are. With no regard to me, Maekawa-san smiled joyfully.

“Even if you suck, just fake it till you make it, am I right?”

I almost choked again listening to the statement that almost sounded like an indirect criticism; I took the tea Maekawa-san pa.s.sed over and washed the rice down. After two more coughs, I replied.

“I just can’t do it.”

“I see. Makes sense.”

Maekawa-san’s jaw shrunk with the bonito’s costume.

“Seems like you’re the type of person who will refuse to start anything.”

She commented on my character, as though able to discern the essence of it. Bullseye — I could only reply with painful silence. As if she saw through me, Maekwa-san continued.

It's neither good nor bad about my personality.

“Will you still join us next time?”

Or rather, it had nothing to do with whatever she said earlier.

“Next time, the transfer student and his shocking development! — You can’t say for sure that that won’t happen next time, right?” The h.e.l.l did she say?

Sure thing~ I could only mumble, unable to showed definite interest in joining.

Why did I join an amateur baseball team? I’m not some top player — just some guy who came to fill the spot.

Maekawa-san’s invitation was an extrinsic reason that had nothing to do with me.

Hm.

I have to use a different reason. And it’s true: a girl’s request is hard to refuse.

In the end.

“…Only if I can eat you handmade rice b.a.l.l.s next time.”

I couldn’t say no to my materialistic desire.

As I closed to home, the cicadas were already screaming deafening noise along the road.

After pus.h.i.+ng the bicycle into the Touwa’s, I saw Erio at the corner of the yard doing the radio callisthenic.

“Chang~ Chang~ Kachang~ Chaw.a.n.g~ Changi~ Chakachang~ Chang…”

Even though there wasn’t a radio. As expected of the delusional girl, who can easily replace a radio…? The melody that she sung to herself while happily exercising… Hmmm.

The movement and singing that brought out her tender qualities almost made me think her cute.

She wore a white one-piece today with no futon. The self-deception didn’t work today: the sun drove her away from that heat.

“Chang~ Chang chang~ Chang chang~ chang chang~”

Chang chang chang~ Even I hummed along. And she caught me. Erio flung her hair; traces of the particles shot out as she turned. Every time when they fade or reappear, the world around her will s.h.i.+mmer along.

“Yo.”

“Morning, cousin.”

Neither s.h.i.+ed nor shaken. I would have been crushed by the embarra.s.sment if we were flipped — I would have been able to sympathize with Erio’s hiding in futon.

Erio moved closer, stepping on the rampant weed on her bare feet. Ah~ she ran out again without her shoes. She’s already been a student, so why does she still refuse to wear shoes?

“Where have you been?”

“The river. We went to play baseball.”

“Baseball.”

A naive repet.i.tion. She increased the frequency of blinks, staring at me with flickering eyes. She’s not thinking ‘the cousin doesn’t go with baseball~’ right?

I gazed at her mysterious eyeb.a.l.l.s; occasionally I think that maybe she could see things that I can’t, which is why the whole alien thing happened… Well, now’s not the time for those kind of dreams. “Well then.” Please go on with your exercise. I reminded her while pus.h.i.+ng the bicycle.

The wheels cranked, the mud and gra.s.s it rolled over sung gently. Then the sound of footsteps came; I looked back, and an azure burned into my retina.

I thought the hair was water or waves, with fishes swimming within.

For some reason she pulled on my neck and called 'cousin.' You could have at least pulled on my sleeve or something! “What?”

“Tonight too.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

I immediately realized her intention and replied quickly. Erio's request for this summer, particular during the night, is to star gaze. Since she came to me, it must mean that the weather will be clear the entire day. At the moment, Erio is the person most concerned about news right now. Unlike when we first met, she no longer tries to receive intelligence from white noises of the screen.

“Are you done?”

“Mm.” She flexed her biceps to visually a.s.sent that she's done… What a twig-looking arm.

Like a child who couldn't wait to see her favourite weekly show, Erio happily looked up to me with a big smile. Every time when I answer yes to helping her out with that summer-project-wannabe, she will unconditionally beam at me that heart-skipping particle grin. And every time, I would refuse to look straight at her.

Looking at her directly made me feel like a part of my head would spin uncontrollably.

My phone shook from the signal that hail from a distance. Is it Ryuus.h.i.+-san's mail? ...It indeed was.

“What the heck! The breakfast was ham and egg! I am under a starving attack!”

There's a picture attached too: a white patternless plate with cherry tomatoes, scrambled eggs, ham laid out like the three kingdoms on the edge of the plate. From the blurry image, I could tell it's an alluring colour.

But for a self-proclaimed fruitarian, this must have been a difficult set up.

If — and I mean if — I get the chance to eat with Ryuus.h.i.+-san during the break, I must pick the restaurant carefully. But I remember her saying something about noodles being okay.

As for my reply… “It's almost Obon, so the Wasteful Spirits will show up. Just try your best!” The text does feel a bit ad lib, but almost detached; yet, I sent it just the way it was.[11]

“The cousin, likes baseball?”

I put the bicycle back into the storage; after coming out, I was flung an unexpected question by Erio who seemed to be blocking the entrance. Oh man. With the slight surprise of a parent enjoying his child's strange behaviour, I looked to Erio's eyes. She seemed upset, twiddling her hair while faced down.

I remember asking her the same question unwittingly before.

“Are you interested?”

Erio shook her head wildly; she then took a step back away from me.

“...Oh.”

I vaguely prodded. “Awuu, awuu!” She swung her head of long hair even faster, her face turning even redder.

She was just like someone who was embarra.s.sed to be caught fallen asleep and somehow refuses to admit it.

So dishonest, the two of us. Is it because we're cousins?

In the end she ran away. Erio hid next to the wall and began the second part of the callisthenics, during which I kept looking. After seeing her glances, I went back into the Touwa household.

On the hallway extending from the entrance, Meme-san laid on the floor as though enjoying the coldness on the floor. Her pose was like an insincerely begging for forgiveness, with her b.u.t.t up and face down. Hair spread every where on the floor, I thought it's 'now coming out from the television screen.'[12]

If that guy saw the this scene, would his fanatically burning love freeze?

“Zzz~ Zzz~ ...Yay~ Meme-chin's won the young men's vote for the town's popularity poll… Zzz~”

“Um, I think it's only been a grand total of five second since voting started.” And you're the only one voting.

“Morning~ Mako-tan.”

With her face still kissing the floor, she asked with an obscure voice.

“...Please call me something normal.”

How come she's the only one who keeps calling me different names? Why couldn't it be my friends or Erio? It sure would suck if it's because I'm only getting along better with my aunt.

“Mako, Mako, tan-tan.”

“Sorry for making an impossible request for my abnormal aunt.”

Each person have things they can and cannot do. There are things that are inherently impossible though.

For example, flying with a bicycle.

Or arriving here from a different planet.

And me becoming a baseball game hero.

Being able to give up easily allows for a timely life with mental stability.

Suddenly, Meme-san snapped upright. The clear red marks on her face suited that airhead look of hers. It might even help cover the wrinkles — my throat will definitely be crushed if I said it.

According to Meme-san herself, she's normal about every three years. So as far as the time I will be spending here is concerned, it'll probably never happen. Just as I casually thought of a retort, Meme-san grinned tauntingly.

As though she had read my mind, she began chatting about some seemingly irrelevant things. I've gradually adapted to her unholy ability of connecting the dots. Not because this is where aliens live, but because Meme-san herself is just such a life form. My stress has gone down significantly ever since I started thinking this way.

“Hmhmhm, time actually flows differently for me.”

“I guess, since you can never get your age right.”

“How could it be! Two birthdays a year! Meaning, I'm only half my age! What~! I'm only twenty~ Aha!”

Dude! Logic! You're being too nice! Get outta there! Please send this forty year old back! You don't want to? Really?

“In, other, words! Normal Meme will be there in a year and a half, which is when Mako-kun is going to graduate! Meme's flower will once again bloom!”

“It's already faded.”[13]

“I will steal your heart as we part!”

“I'm already ready to part.”

A (one-person)smile-filled, happy-looking (from the side) family.

Nighttime — if it were the country where I lived, it'd be the time when frogs cry.

Probably because of the lack of farm around here, other kinds of insects chirped about.

Reading a book Ryuus.h.i.+-san lent me, I killed time under the suffocating heat. As the guest in the house, I refused to use the AC.

“…...” I've reached halfway.

Currently, I fear Australia: the southern hemisphere terrifies me. Reading a book like this deeply instilled a sense of regret in me, but at the same time, I've grown to learn how safe my life has been, being able to read a book in a room on a clean bed. Even though I am constantly hara.s.sed by a non-human like my aunt everyday, I would never trade this life away… And that'd be horrific if I can start seeing things that way. Personally, brainwas.h.i.+ng should only be limited to being mesmerized by a girl.

I flipped over, grabbing onto the phone by the pillow. It's not like there's a new message, but I still checked the history every now and then; then, I'd grin smugly remembering the exchange between me and Ryuus.h.i.+-san.

If there were mirrors scattered in this room, I'll probably be sick of my disgusting smile.

I opened up the reply to the message 'you can do it!' that I sent to her after she expressed her dissatisfaction with breakfast.

“Mom said the same thing. Are ya spyin' on the Mifune?”

Does she suspect me of planting a bug in her house?

Speaking of which, I haven't even been to Ryuus.h.i.+-san's house. Only if I could visit in the future. Her room must be filled with the sweet scent of Ryuus.h.i.+-san… I totally meant to say 'so what?'

Explaining kind of kills it, but what I meant to say it's tantalizing.

“Kousin.”

“Hah?” A familiar, futon-covered voice summoned me from the hall.

Despite it being the middle of a tropical night, the stifled-looking monster crept into the room, enveloped in her favourite Calamus-patterned futon. On the way in, half her body b.u.mped into the unopened door along the wall, almost tipping her over.

“What's the matter, futon roll? Sports meet at the cemetery?”[14]

An outfit that displays perseverance without the courage test, huh. Closing the book, I sat up.

“It is tiem for stergeyzing.”

I looked up to the clock, replying, “Ah~ right, it's already the time? So what's up with that getup?”

“Bug rehelant.”

“Bug repellant? Sure, keep it on.”

With no intent of pointing out the problem, I decided to head straight out. The telescope weighing over eight kilo was carried by me; Erio, who almost fell downstairs, was also transported along. The results of not being bound by futons for twenty four hours a day seemed to be the deterioration of sensation. What a useless skill she had accrued.

I held her back and made sure she put on the sandals before she flew out. The melanin-lacking skin that looked as it'd bleed when merely touched kept a strange cold… Wait, no. Why do I gotta baby her so much? It's not like we're princess and servant. Despite complaining, I did not let go of the foot in hand.

Gazing into the sky on a summer night — certainly a good development for Youth-points, yet not so much after having to take care of the cousin who's just as circuitous as her wrapped appearance… I'm not being a worry-wart, am I?

Putting on my sandals as well, I opened up the door. As far as the distance though, we're really just going outside to the yard — the yard that is crawling with a congregation of insects. The uncanny sound, when listened closely to, was as though the sight of pure whiteness will tear at the deep part of your memories. Motionless air held the remains of day, the warmth; even the sky was clear, perfect for stargazing. Though I have to admit the expression is kind of strange when the sun was absent.

Anywhere outside of the house was off-limit to Erio, the reason being Meme-san's certain orders.

It was a dialogue from a while ago. I'm guessing it was the second Sunday of May.

In the living room, Meme-san wagged her finger, 'tsk, tsk, tsk,' in front of Erio.

“You can't, Erio. When it's late in the city~” She paused and eyed over here for some reason. “There's a lotta hungry wolves waiting for a cute sheep like you~” I don't care if you want to scare her or something, but what was the look for, Oba(a)san?[15]

“Wolf?”

Did she not understand the a.n.a.logy? Erio c.o.c.ked her head lightly. “Oh my~ Meme-san appeared ecstatic somehow.

“Ah~ You're just too darn pure! I just wanna to protect you!” She said so while squeezing Erio tightly. I would have pushed off right away, the weather being so d.a.m.n hot, but Erio only seemed confused with a reddened face and didn't resist.

So Erio does love her mom, huh~ Is it because she only had a mom at home? Well, I guess for certain people the personality or appearance of a puppy is just their soft spot. But seriously… What an extreme niche.

Still, Erio is much more grounded now that her rebellious phase against the human race has pa.s.sed, so at least she wouldn't disobey Meme Obaa-san anymore. No wonder she quietly accepted the curfew.

End flashback.

The stars in the sky could have only been observed with a telescope; their actual danger to her will not be on a physical level.

Truth to be told, that Erio, who has such good sleeping schedule after ditching her antic, probably wouldn't stay out late even after getting a little more confident. If I don't go with her then, hahaha… Uh, 'scue me? Why's the a.s.sumption that I have to do everything with her? Am I her legs?

With the rationale 'I'll deal with it later,' I tossed all sorts of worries aside before setting the telescope up. I'm not sure how I would feel carrying this humongous telescope on a hike anyhow, to be frank.

“Alright, alright, you're free to look at whatever you want.” Just not yourself.

“…...”

“...Hmghng!” Erio hopped about, twisting the entire futon around.

Looks like she had noticed how she is prevented from both the mosquitoes and actually looking at the stars. She should have realized the moment when she donned the thing.

According to herself, she's taking measures because she took too much damage from the bloodsuckers yesterday. Too bad she should have thought about using the bug spray.

I guess it's commendable to want to move forward by trying things on your own, but uh~ you can't see anything in that futon. Not exactly to be taken seriously when you can't even tell the directions.

Perhaps as a compromise, she stuck only her head out. People watching would probably think of water springing out of the ground like a flower or stem.

While maintaining the in-between of a youkai and a human, Erio took a deep breath. Whoever may be watching would definitely be able to enjoy her outlandish beauty; for Erio herself, she could enjoy the serenity that is being inside a futon, so it's a win-win situation for all. But, well, there was still a fundamental problem that still persist.

After her breathing exercise, Erio stared at the telescope, about to begin her next move.

“…...”

“…...”

“...Hng~” She wriggle within the futon. It would appear that she has fallen into quite the struggle, unable to use either hands. Oh boy, the road to s.p.a.ce proved to be difficult. Who would have thought that her futon would be an obstacle?

Who would be seen as the crazy one, me or Erio, if future researchers were told that?

“Just come out quietly from the futon.”

“The cousin forcefully demanded me to strip.”

“Oh wow, looks like your tongue's just as sharp as your moms. Fine, you don't have to take it off, I mean we could just look at the stars in the futon.” I mean, it's such a wonderful planetarium and all.

Erio halfheartedly emerged from the futon; after folding it neatly, she returned the mattress back into the entrance. Finally, she began the preparation for stargazing. From below the scope, she adjusted the focus, angle and direction. I've heard that it's an arduous process for beginners, even with auto-adjustment, yet Erio's deft hands appeared experienced. The same could be said about her work at the Tamura Shop: setting conversation aside, she's quite the shopkeeper now for the most part. I suppose she's skilled in learning by experience.

Like taste-testing, Erio checked out the starry sky first; 'mm', she moved away from the telescope and smiled at me.

“It's there again.”

Her smile was also there again… Let's forget about that thought.

Out of all the planets, Jupiter is what Erio's currently following. Apparently it's easy to spot it during this season. Every now and then she look through the scope, all while sketching away on the notebook. Perhaps already used to sketching, her strokes were the perfect balance between speed and detail.

'Every now and then she look through the scope, all while sketching away on the notebook. Perhaps already used to sketching, her strokes were the perfect balance between speed and detail.'

I took a peak through the scope while Erio was drawing; an unfamiliar planet entered my vision. There wasn't much wind tonight, so the weather was perfect for stargazing. The telescope focused onto the sepia giant that would only appear slightly bigger than my eye if seen directly from Earth.

The spiral pattern on Jupiter's surface is called the 'Great Red Spot.' Erio told me so. Just what is the reason behind that whirl? She kind of explained in fragments on the first day, but I only remember half of it.[16]

“Just a bit more; something cooler will show up.”

Erio interjected excitingly from the side.

“Oh~” Since I'm not the fanatic of s.p.a.ce here, my response was only impa.s.sive.

I'm more of the deep-sea camp: compare to a surrealistically large world, I like the one that has an ending to the many mysteries — I guess for people like me, our dream has to be somewhat realistic.

Observing clearly a planet that no men has ever stepped on simply felt fantastical. I would even go as far as saying that it is no different than looking through a long tube that has pictures of Jupiter and its satellites printed and stuck on the end. Carelessly I blurted this out three days ago, promptly disappointing Erio; her obvious sigh seemed to convey 'what is this idiot saying?' Her upset expression while looking down on me was refres.h.i.+ng, and I guess a compliment like 'the cousin's lack of imagination is impressive' isn't exactly common either. The price to pay for not having a filter was the abundance of rare reactions.

I predicted the time when Erio stopped sketching, retracting my body like a hand during mochi-making. I am hanging out with her for sentimental purposes, but I have no love for the stars; still, it's not like I'd be doing much of anything aside from reading or watching TV if I were to refuse her offer — and I will definitely not be studying. So, from the point of 'meaningful' alone, my options don't necessarily differ.

As a side note, Meme-san joined us on the first stay, but she was annihilated by the mosquitoes, so while scratching and rubbing ointment on, she declared 'ahh, my pheromone is not only effective with Mako-kun, but with the bugs too… I'll repent for my sins!' Now she's staying indoor, lazing about where the AC's blasting.

As if unable to stand my s.p.a.cing out, a synthetic ring tone squeaked from the open windows in my room on second floor. It sounded like a retro, rotary-styled phone, just shorter in duration. I realized immediately what it was.

Without looking away, Erio simply spoke.

“Phone call?”

“No, a mail.”

“From whom?”

She's being nosy somehow. “...Ryuus.h.i.+-san.” Probably — most likely. Though it might also be Maekawa-san, she's also a person who'd rather call than type when she's got business. Besides, she probably wouldn't even call about the game until at least two days later.

And I've already agreed to play in the game in two days, thanks to the rice b.a.l.l.s for breakfast and other things. And here I am thinking that kids who'd get kidnapped for food were extinct… Well, if men tricked by the feminine wile of women never disappear, than I will gladly change my thought on that.

“Ryuus.h.i.+...”

She repeatedly mumbled the name, but only the pencils rustling on paper followed. It's only natural, seeing how she and Ryuus.h.i.+-san had a bit of history. The danger of making friends with Erio while being in the local school — perhaps that's what she understood.

For Erio, I'm afraid it's simply withdrawal that's causing her to be so shy.

“Cousin.”

Without looking away from the telescope, Erio directly spoke my name. “Hm?”

“When will you be on TV?”

“Who are you talking about?”

It's pretty depressing that that response came before 'what are you talking about.' Do I not have any hope for myself on a TV debut? Like I said, I'm just… Hm, I think I said something along the line before…

“The cousin said, baseball in the morning.”

The conversation from this morning was revived from the graveyard of memories. Is she that interested in it? I refuted that thought right away.

“If they had time for some guys by the river, they'd probably go to the local high school team.” It's around the same time of year, too.

“Mm~” She pondered… Or at least, looked so. So that was just a way to cut into the actual topic?

“The cousin plays near the river. Amateur baseball?”

“Yeah, you've seen them before.” Erio nodded; her forehead knocked on the telescope. For the next moment she re-adjusted the angle before turning to face me. Her eyes, like the stars, glittered.

“The shopping district team?”

“Yep.” The city side probably don't want me anyway. They got enough people too.

And being on the different side with people I know is also kinda… I hadn't plan on wasting my morning hours on creating resentment or building walls.

Erio moved her face away from the telescope. From the stars above, her eyes returned onto the horizon — me. The eyes that gleamed like the surface of water made me thought that, even with heavy scrutiny, will reflect neither the scenery nor me.

She held tightly her tiny fists. On her face was the same expression when she declared her desire to work.

Next, Erio phrased the line.

“Next time, can I go too?”

The white ball tumbling to the third base replayed in my mind.

“...Baseball?”

“Is it yakyuu, or baseball? Base~ ball~?”[17]

Why did she go as far as involving English? Wait, that's not the problem.

Erio… Wants to join team game. Is being surprised a fair reaction? What's happening?

An abstract feeling of anxiety. Like startled by the flapping of insect wings or screeches, my feet lost their holding. I feel like I want to go tell Meme-san myself. Why? Why do I feel this way?

It's not the same as the brain-numbing kind, but the guts-wrenching type. It was as if my bowel were filled with some unbelievable things.

Though not quite discomfort, this unknown sensation sp