Too Many Losing Heroines! - Volume 1 - Chapter 1.3

I scratched out an entry in my schedule. I was hunched over my desk that night, completely redoing all the plans I’d made. Some fiend named Yanami had thrown a wrench in my light novel purchasing agenda.

I leaned back, glanced at the collection in my room, and ran a few numbers in my head. Food expenses would be down, so I could funnel those funds into grabbing more new series if I slowed down on keeping up with ongoing stuff.

“I’ll start with Do You Love Your Big Sister and Her Close-Combat Skills? for now. The anime was pretty good,” I muttered.

Maybe this was a sign to get into My Smol Senpai finally. I’d been reserving shelf space for that plus the manga.

As I began to write, a small hand overlapped with mine. “The Dark Maiden is an Innocent Mistress must stay. Volume five is when my favorite character turns to evil.”

“What are you doing in my room, Kaju?”

“I’m most places. You’re just bad at noticing.”

The freak was my little sister, Kaju. She was two years younger than me and actually pretty cute, just objectively. Not even from a brother’s biased perspective. Last I’d heard, she had joined the student council too. The family resemblance was getting slimmer by the year.

“I’ve really got my eye on My Smol Senpai, though,” I said.

“That one’s good, but a little too naughty for my liking,” said Kaju. “I don’t approve of you consuming that sort of content, Oniisama.”

“How do you even know that?”

“A friend let me borrow it. Too naughty.”

What the heck, how come I didn’t get to check it out? I silently complained.

Kaju stuffed my mouth full of cookies before I could vocalize my protests. Not bad. Next she forced my lips around a straw. Iced tea. I was feeling somewhat infantilized.

“I know how to drink things,” I said.

Kaju stepped directly into my personal bubble. “Have you made any friends at school?”

“Uh, no?”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” she sighed solemnly. “You worry me, Oniisama. You’re in high school now. You’re not allowed to have no friends anymore.” I was officially an outlaw. “How many people did you even talk to today? Not counting teachers.”

That was a good question. There was Yanami, Komari, Tsukinoki-senpai, Shikiya-san from the student council…

“About four,” I replied.

“Four?” Kaju’s eyes went wide as saucers. I was pretty proud of that number. She couldn’t bring me down from this high. “Oniisama, having no friends is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You just said I’m not allowed.”

“That doesn’t hurt me. What hurts me is that you would lie to me. Your own flesh and blood.”

“I…wasn’t lying.” She’d brought me down from that high.

“But what hurts me more is knowing I drove you to such tragic measures.”

Kaju shoved yet more cookies into my mouth, tears pooling in her eyes.

“Kaju, please,” I grunted through crumbs.

“It’ll be okay, Oniisama.” She held me oh so tenderly in her arms. In the height of summer. It was way too hot for this. “I’ll find some friends for you. I promise.”

Nukumizu Kaju—obsessive brother-lover or just a worrywart? I wasn’t sure how to frame it. Either way, this was par for the course for her.

Was having no friends really so terrible? I wasn’t unhappy or anything, personally. Aside from little things, like not hearing about schedule changes (which would occasionally make me late to class) and being unintentionally excluded from most communication, I didn’t much care.

I sipped some more iced tea, grateful, at least, that things couldn’t possibly get any worse.

Current tab: 3,617 yen.

***

The next day, lunchtime. I had come to the fire escape to get my bento, only to be immediately accosted.

“Gee, thanks.”

“Who? Me?”

“Yes, you.” I had hardly spoken a word and Yanami was already most displeased. “Remember when I asked for your help yesterday? Karaoke? No? Well, guess what. It sucked.”

Yanami sat next to me, only adding to my confusion. I didn’t realize this was going to be a whole thing.

“What do you want me to do about that?”

“Sometimes all a girl wants is a little validation,” Yanami grumbled. “That Frozen duet straight up traumatized me.”

I searched my memory. “Oh, did they do that one that goes ‘let it snow’ or whatever?”

She gave me a look. Not quite, it seemed. “No, they did the song that Anna and the prince sing together. That bit at the end, oh my god. I didn’t think I’d make it.”

“The part where he goes, ‘Can I say something crazy? Will you marry me?’” That one I remembered.

“And then Anna’s all like, ‘Can I say something even crazier? Yes!’” Yanami reenacted with a wispy cadence. She threw her head in her hands and wailed a wail that would have put the damned to shame. She was just torturing herself at this point. “She’s doing it on purpose, I tell you. She’s trying to break me, that…that ice queen.”

“Y-you know how couples are. It’s just the honeymoon phase,” I said. “Anyway, did you bring lunch?”

Cards on the table, I was pretty excited and couldn’t wait much longer. Could anyone blame me? A homemade bento from a classmate, a girl no less, was plenty justification for a little impatience.

“Here,” she mumbled.

The bento box—if it could even be called that—was a colorful mosaic of what looked to be paper. On top, I could make out text reading, “Thighs—98 Yen.” The thing was made of carefully folded fliers. Reminded me of some craft project I’d see at my grandma’s.

“What am I looking at?” I asked.

“The plan was to just make your portion while I cooked mine this morning. I did mean to, really.”

“Okay. And?”

“My mom saw me going for a second bento box and said Sousuke was a ‘lucky guy’…”

Oof, that was a gut punch. Moms really knew how to make it sting.

I maintained a respectful silence as I opened up the “bento.” Inside was but a lone sandwich wrapped in plastic. “This is from the convenience store.”

“Uh, yeah, were you even listening? I couldn’t make you anything with my mom breathing down my neck!”

The only thing homemade about this lunch was the packaging it came in.

“Sooo, how much do you think for this?” Yanami asked.

“Let’s say…268 yen,” I said.

“Yikes, okay.” 

Hey, I was just reading the label. She scooped up a piece of fried egg from her own lunch and plopped it into my box.

“We’ll call that 300.” I pulled away when she tried to test her luck with karaage next. That girl wasn’t gonna upcharge me. “Back to the first topic, it sounds like those two really just need some space. You’ve got plenty of other friends to hang out with, don’t you?”

I tossed the fried egg into my mouth. A little burnt but not bad. The Yanamis liked their eggs on the sweet side.

“They can get…weird.” She started languidly mangling the rest of her eggs. Another victim. “It was always just Sousuke and me before Karen-chan transferred in. When I’m not with him, it’s like, people start making assumptions.”

“Oh,” I said. “I’m, uh, not sure what to say.”

Plop. Karaage into my box.

“How much?”

I stared at the fried chicken, and it stared back, mocking me for my naivety. “350.”

“Where’d you go after school yesterday, anyway?” Yanami asked. “I saw you leave a different way from usual.”

“You keep tabs on me?”

“I mean, bit hard not to notice the guy beelining for the door by himself every day.”

There was never any bite to her words, and yet they consistently wounded me. No more, though. I chewed smugly on a mouthful of sandwich, safe in the knowledge that such conspicuous days were behind me.

“Turns out I’m in the literature club,” I said. “I’ll be hanging around there for a while, I guess.”

“Huh. Didn’t know you were into that sorta thing.” Yanami munched on an octopus-shaped sausage. “Maybe I’ll come check it out too. You mind?”

“Not really. Didn’t know you were into that sorta thing.”

“I like flowers just fine, thank you.”

“Literature. Not horticulture,” I enunciated.

Maybe I did understand how she got rejected after all. A grain of rice clung to her cheek.

***

The bell chimed. School was out. One’s first instinct would naturally be to book it, but hark, this was folly. The secret to the art of departure was patience. Danger lurked in a school of freshly liberated students, particularly at the doors. Social groups often picked these areas to loiter so as to ensure a pack didn’t leave without all of its respective members. They would not budge for a lowly background extra such as myself. ’Twas a vicious cycle, the life of one of the B-cast. One without escape.

I lazily gathered my things, keeping a close eye on the flow of people. The door was largely clear, but this was a trap. The pack remained. They had simply relocated to the shoe cupboards at the school entrance, where the loneliest and most stubborn of the bunch would often congregate. Worst-case scenario, they were gathered in front of my cupboard, and biding my time by pretending to forget which was mine wouldn’t fly this late into the semester.

Actually, come to think of it, I wasn’t supposed to leave today. It had completely slipped my mind that I was in the literature club now. For the time being, at least.

A man suddenly slipped into the classroom and came straight up to my desk. “Hey, Nukumizu-kun. I hear you’re in the lit club?”

“Huh?”

Ayano Mitsuki was his name, another familiar face from the same junior high as me. I wouldn’t have called us “friends,” per se. We’d just gone to the same cram school together, so we were technically on speaking terms. For the record, his grades were better than mine, and yes, he had glasses.

“Yeah?” I said. “I guess I am.”

“One of my teachers told me you guys have an Abe Kobo collection there,” said Ayano. “Could I swing by to borrow it sometime?”

I wouldn’t have known. All I’d cared to note were the light novels.

“Uhhh, probably. I’d have to ask my senpai.”

“I appreciate it.” He flashed a grin you just couldn’t hate, dropped a hand on my shoulder, and then made to saunter back toward the door.

Just then, a blur of golden brown spawned out of thin air in the corner of my periphery.

Yakishio Lemon thumped her tanned arms down onto my desk. “Hold up, Mitsuki!” She leaned in uncomfortably close, a mixture of 8×4 brand deodorant and sweat dominating my senses. Why me? “The team’s off today, so I was wondering if maybe you wanted to grab something to eat or whatever?”

“Sorry.” Ayano held his hands together in apology. “I’ve got cram school today.”

“Aww, c’mon!” Yakishio moaned. “We’re first-years. Don’t you know that all study and no play makes Jack a dumb boy?”

“I’d do a little less play and a little more studying unless you plan on being a first-year forever.”

Now they were just flirting. Right in front of me. Awesome.

Another girl poked her head into the class. “Mitsuki-san, we’re going to be late.”

I recognized her. She and Ayano had spent a lot of time together back when we shared a cram school. Her looks and grades had made her a bit of a celebrity at the time. Never would have guessed we went to the same high school.

“I’ll be right there, Chihaya,” Ayano said. “Later, Lemon.”

“Oh…” A rain cloud rolled in over Yakishio. “Okay. Bye.” She waved at him, slowly and lifelessly.

I was at my limit and ready to dip, but Yakishio was making that difficult given she was blocking me from grabbing my bag.

“E-excuse me. Yakishio-san?” I said. “I, uh, need my…”

“Hey, Nukumizu, are you and Mitsuki friends? I don’t think you were in our class last year.” She blinked at me, her long eyelashes far too close for comfort.

Yakishio Lemon was the star of the track team, their best sprinter, and arguably the star of the classroom as well. People gravitated to her. She had short hair, a gentle face, and the kind of toned figure and sun-kissed skin that could have stolen anyone’s breath away.

Once I’d recomposed myself, I said, “I, er, wouldn’t call us friends. We just went to the same cram school. Sometimes we talk.”

Yakishio’s eyes lit up. “Ohhh, I getcha! So you know who that girl is?!” She shoved her face right up to mine, throwing my poise to the wind yet again.

“A-Asagumo-san, I think her name is. They were in the ­accelerated course together. Pretty equal on grades, from what I remember.”

“O-oh. Okay.” She stared vacantly in the direction Ayano had left in. “I wonder if he likes smart girls better…”

Am I crazy, or…?

“To clarify,” I said, “they were together a lot, but they just looked like friends to me. Same course is all.”

“You’re so right!” Yakishio cheered. “I so got friend vibes too!”

She beamed like the sun. I chose not to touch on the question of their relationship outside of what I’d seen.

“Can I get my bag?” I asked.

“Oh, sorry. You know what? A good old-fashioned sprint should clear my head!”

She wasted no time and started stretching on the spot, her bronze limbs bare for all to see, before bolting out the door. I at last reached down for my bag and stood.

So many people, so many stories happening all around me, and I’d been none the wiser. My one wish was that I could at least continue to avoid the drama and live out my days in relative peace.

“Done with your chat, playboy?” With perfect contradictory timing, Yanami appeared behind me.

“Can I help you?” I said.

None of this made sense. First Yakishio, then Yanami. All the prettiest girls in school were practically lining up just to bug me. I braced my wallet for yet another loan.

Yanami smiled at me innocently. “We’re going to that club, aren’t we? I did say I was coming.”

I hadn’t believed her. Yanami Anna and books went together about as well as water and oil, I imagined. Still, it wasn’t my place to tell her no.

I nodded.

***

“You’re sure you’re sure?” I asked on our way to the club room. “It’s not exactly a party where we’re going. It might not be your thing.”

A day was all it took to learn what I needed about the lit club. And what I learned was that it wasn’t exactly where the cool kids hung out.

“Eh, I’m sure it’ll be fine. I used to do needle felting,” Yanami insisted. “That thing where you poke wool a whole bunch to make cute little dudes.”

“Again, literature. We are going to the literature club. Not the little-dudes club.”

Forget it. She wasn’t worth the energy. I opened the door.

I paused. “Oh, hello.”

“Nukumizu-kun.” Tsukinoki-senpai brushed a lock of hair behind her ear without looking up from her book. “Good to see you.”

Komari glanced, frowned at me, and then froze upon noticing the stranger with me.

“She’s with me. Wanted to have a look at the club,” I explained.

“Hiya. Hope I’m not a bother,” she said. “I’m Yanami. Nukumizu-kun and I are in the same class.”

“Welcome, welcome! I’ll get us some tea.” The vice president jumped up, adjusting her glasses, and nudged me as she passed me by. “Nice catch. She’s a cutie.”

“R-right…” I said.

“She your girlfriend?” Tsukinoki-senpai asked out loud.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

“N-no, we’re—”

“Oh, no, no,” Yanami butted in. “Just classmates.” There was nothing on her face. No hint of emotion. No hesitation, not even displeasure. She may as well have been commenting on the weather. The moment came and went like dust on the wind. She was then quickly preoccupied with surveying the room. “You guys sure keep a lotta books around here. What for?”

Suddenly, it was like you could hear a pin drop. Senpai and Komari stared holes through me, their expressions completely deadpan.

Just as the atmosphere was becoming crushing, the door swung open. “Whoa, we havin’ a party?”

A fairly tall man entered. The president, if I had to guess. Tamaki Shintarou—my savior.

“Well, well. Look who decided to show up.” Tsukinoki-senpai made her best attempt at a wrinkly scowl, only to be betrayed by her own upturned lips.

“Cut me some slack.” The president put a suave hand on her shoulder. “I’ve been studying for exams.”

“Uh-huh. And I’m the queen of France.”

“What, you don’t believe me? Oh, hey, Nukumizu-kun. Good to see you again. And who’s that? A new member?”

“Just here to check things out,” said Yanami. “Nice to meet you. I’m Yanami.”

Tamaki-senpai welcomed her with a smile, stepping toward us. “Make yourself at home.”

Before he could make it far, Komari jumped out in front of him. “P-P-Prez, I—” she stammered. “I r-read the book you lent me! It was good!”

“Already? Dang, glad you liked it,” Tamaki-senpai said. “Koto over here just doesn’t respect sci-fi.” He gestured to her with his thumb.

The vice president shot him back a look. “I respect the genre well enough. It’s you who won’t read Haruki.”

“Since when were you a Harukist?”

“I’m not that into him. You’re still sitting on that Usami Rin novel I gave you, by the way.”

“Hey, I finished that! Boy, did that idol burn.”

They were so a thing that it wasn’t even funny. I let my eyelids hang, unamused, while they went off.

“I-I, um… I like Egan!” Komari interjected. What a trooper. “Even if he’s a bit…c-confusing.”

“For real?” said Tamaki-senpai. “I knew one of us had good taste!”

The president ruffled her hair. She yiped.

Tsukinoki-senpai swatted his hand away. “Are you trying to get #MeToo’d? You just let me know if he’s getting too handsy, Komari-chan. I’ll set him straight.”

“I-I don’t…!” Komari jumped at the volume of her own voice and hung her head. “I…don’t mind.” Her cheeks turned bright red.

“Look at her, Koto. Why can’t you be that adorable?” Tamaki-senpai teased.

Groaning, Tsukinoki-senpai said, “You really shouldn’t spoil him. He’ll let anything go to his head if you’re not careful.”

The president glanced at his watch and sucked air through his teeth. “I gotta get going. There’s a meeting for club presidents, and I’m cutting it close. At least I get to brag about our new visitor.”

“I’ll come with,” said Tsukinoki-senpai. “You’ll curl up somewhere and fall asleep on the way there otherwise.”

“You’re my favorite alarm clock, Koto.”

“We’ll see how you feel after I sign you up for janitor duty.”

The two left, their casual flirting echoing down the hallway and through the door. Leaving the rest of us to wonder what the point of that entire display had even been.

“H-he called me… The president…called me cute.” Komari was mumbling and giggling to herself, off in her own little world. Poor thing had no idea.

Yanami tapped me on the shoulder and furtively leaned in close. Very close. Oh god, I could smell her. “So, the prez and vice prez. They’re totally dating, right?”

“Dunno. Wouldn’t be surprised,” I replied.

Komari, with her sonar hearing, thrust her phone out at us. The screen read, “They are NOT dating! They are childhood FRIENDS!”

“Childhood friends?” Yanami narrowed her eyes like an ­activated sleeper agent.

“Yes! JUST friends!” Komari’s phone screen asserted.

Her nose scrunched, nostrils flared, and piece—well, not said, technically—either way, Komari stormed back to her book and shoved a pair of blaring earbuds into her ears. There was grumpy, and then there was her.

Yanami noisily scooched a nearby chair over to sit in. “What’s the phone about? She just do that?” she asked. I had no answer. “Anyway. So childhood friends, huh?”

“What? Oh. Right. Guess they are,” I said.

“Wonder what makes her so special,” Yanami muttered grimly.

“Innocent until proven guilty, Yanami-san.”

“Wait a second…” She slowly, dramatically raised her head. Her eyes landed on Komari. “Homewrecker,” she growled. Komari twitched.

“Okay, relax, we just established they aren’t dating. How does that make her a homewrecker?”

“It’s not about dating or not dating. As far as I’m concerned, any floozy that steps in on a man with a childhood friend is a dirty thief. How is that not obvious?”

I pictured a yuri couple. Many would rage and froth at the mouth at the mere suggestion of including a man in such a relationship. That made it click for me. Death was too light a punishment.

“Okay, I get it,” I confessed, “but let’s put a pin in that. Komari-san’s literally right there.”

“She’s got music on. She can’t hear.”

We turned to her. Komari seemed to shrink away, like she could feel us staring. Something didn’t feel right.

“What if she isn’t?” I said.

“But she’s got earbuds in,” said Yanami.

“She could be pretending to listen to music so she can eavesdrop on us.”

“Didn’t you hear it earlier, though?”

“Yeah, but do you hear it now? We’ve been hoodwinked, Yanami-san.”

The sweat of a liar poured from Komari’s face. She took out her earbuds, holding me in her disgruntled gaze, and handed me something. “S-spare key. Forgot.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“I-I’mma g-go home now!” And out she flew, tripping over her own legs.

The quiet was sudden and overwhelming. Only two remained: the outsider and the technically-not-really outsider. What was there to even do? I couldn’t give much of an overview of the club, because I hadn’t been given one myself.

“Guess I’ll make some tea,” I said. “Write your name on the visitors list.”

“Thanks. Get me green,” Yanami replied. She signed her name and started flipping pages. “Lotsa people on here. Oh, there’s you. And there’s that one girl. Komari-san.”

Yanami quickly grew bored with the list and browsed the shelves. I prayed she’d stay away from anything Dazai or Mishima. For both our sakes.

“Tea,” I said, placing her cup down.

“Thanks. By the way…” She took a sip and stared me dead in the eye. “What club is this again?”

***

“I’m like some normal teenager,” I mumbled to myself.

The most use I had ever gotten out of LINE was stamp packs of my favorite characters (for the novelty). Now, I lay there, sprawled out on the living room sofa, an actual message in my notifications. A spirited welcome from Tsukinoki-senpai.

I had joined the lit club group chat. My high school career had truly peaked, but I honestly didn’t mind getting off the ride here. A humble life was all I craved. A chill one. Like that of a clam. Those guys were chill.

I remembered Ayano asking about borrowing some books. A good enough excuse for my first message.

“A guy I know wants to borrow the Abe Kobo collection. That cool?” I echoed out loud as I typed. Weirdly enough, I sorta understood why old folk did that so much.

Here began the true test. Would I actually get a reply? I’d heard of getting “left on read” before. What if everyone had straight up blocked me?

The notif came. Phew. Not blocked.

‹Tsukino-Mono: Absolutely. An addendum, however: Let not this fish escape our net.›

The rest of whatever that was aside, I’d gotten my permission. I resumed my lazy idling. Not long after, Kaju strolled over and sat down across the coffee table.

“You are a beautiful person, Oniisama.”

“Thanks?”

“You’re such a good listener, and you always make me feel like I have worthwhile things to say.”

“Except for the times I call you out.” Like just then, as a matter of fact.

“You’re so patient,” Kaju went on. “You’re never short with me or my antics.”

“So you’re aware that they are, in fact, antics.”

She cleared her throat all formal-like. “Anyway, we’re going to make a charaben.”

I was speechless. For once, I had no quips. She had won.

“Right,” I finally said. “You lost me. Little more context please.”

“You’re scaring me, Oniisama. You’ve been lying there smiling at your anime characters all day.”

There was the “character” part of charaben.

“Still lost.”

“We should funnel those emotions into something productive,” Kaju said. “We’ll make a bento in the style of some popular anime or manga, and then people will talk to you!”

“Why specifically anime or manga?”

“Because that’s the only thing you can hold a conversation about?”

She wasn’t wrong. She really wasn’t. Still rude.

“Who am I eating with that’s gonna look over and be like, ‘Wow, look at this guy, he’s got a charaben’?”

“Please, Oniisama. I know you’re friendless, but surely even you eat lunch with people.”

“Nope, not really.”

“You… What?” Kaju put her hand to her mouth. Disbelief filled her eyes. “But don’t you ask anyone? All you have to do is ask, you know?” Therein lay the crux of the issue, my dear sister. “Do you need me at school with you? I’ll go. I’ll ask for you.”

“Whatever social life I even remotely had before would be smithereens if you did that,” I said.

“Charaben it is. Here, I made a test sample.” She produced a bento box and lifted the lid. “I thought your face would be a good place to start. Help smooth along introductions.” It was a work of art. Like, genuinely, this went beyond a cute food gimmick. The realism was a little unnerving. “I used sesame to write an informative profile about you. You’ll be the king of school in no time.”

Somehow, I doubted my classmates would be very interested in my height, weight, and first crush.

“Why did you put you for my first crush?” I asked.

“I don’t understand. You’ve been calling me cute since before I can remember, Oniisama.”

As brothers often did for their sisters.

“I won’t be needing a bento for a while anyway,” I said. “Someone’s already making lunch for me.”

“Someone—” Kaju froze and started bugging out. “What? Who? What?”

“Uh, hello? You in there?”

“Oniisama!” Kaju shrieked. “Do you mean to tell me that, before any friends at all, you’ve made a girlfriend?! Without my permission?!”

“Relax, she’s not my girlfriend! We’d have to be friends first, and we both know I don’t have any of those!”

“Right, of course. How silly of me. That would just be ­ridiculous.” She didn’t have to twist the knife. “I’ve heard stories of people starting relationships with individuals of questionable tangibility. Particularly people with your interests. Though I have to express my concern for your nutritional intake if these ‘bento’ are of similar physicality.”

“You really have no faith in me, do you?” I said. “It’s a real person making real food, for your information.”

In fact, you could even sell it in convenience stores.

“My question is still how a friendless, girlfriendless boy such as yourself just happens upon a supply of bento.”

“It’s been paid for,” I said.

“Ah.” Kaju clapped her hands together like she’d solved the case of the century. “I’ve heard from friends that some women have been adding bento boxes to their services lately.”

“You have questionable friends.”

I stared down at my seaweed self. He stared back. We shared a common understanding.

Current tab: 3,267 yen.

***

The following afternoon, Wednesday, Yanami met me at the fire escape again right on time. This “bartering” thing was happening after all.

My not-friend-not-girlfriend spread her handkerchief over one of the steps before taking a seat and sighing. “It’s happening again. This time Karen-chan wants me to join them at her place for a study sesh.”

“You can always tell her no,” I said.

In response to the objectively best advice she could have possibly received, Yanami scowled in disgust. “And leave those two alone together?!” she shouted.

“They’re already dating. We’re past the point of that being concerning.”

This could never be simple, could it? I couldn’t just take my lunch and be done with it. There was always something.

“She wants me gone for good. I’m telling you,” Yanami started raving. “She knows this thirst can’t be quenched with water.”

Some thoughts are best kept to ourselves, I thought decidedly to myself.

“You can’t keep assuming the worst,” I said. “She probably just thinks it’d be too awkward to be alone together, so she wants you there to lighten the mood.”

“So I’m the bait, and Sousuke’s the prey.”

I’d stepped on a land mine. “No, that’s not what I’m—”

“I make it seem simple. I lower his guard, and once she’s got him in her room…” Yanami batted her eyelashes at me. “‘Oh, gee whiz, it seems like Anna-chan won’t make it,’” she cooed, her voice pitched up.

“Excuse me?”

“We’re acting. Play along. It’s Karen-chan and Sousuke alone in her room.”

“Okay?”

I wasn’t sure why she needed me to reenact her worst nightmares.

“From the top. ‘Oh, gee whiz, it seems like Anna-chan won’t make it,’” she cooed. “Now you, Nukumizu-kun. You’re Sousuke. Go!”

“Uh… ‘Really? I guess that means it’s just us,’” I said in a voice.

This is so dumb.

“‘What if I said’”—Yanami cast her eyes down and cuddled up against me—“‘I kept her away on purpose?’”

I dug through the annals of my mind. I’d seen and read enough rom-coms to know what came next.

“‘What if I said I had a feeling and came anyway?’”

“‘Sousuke…’”

“‘Karen…’”

We gazed at each other for a beat, and a beat later Yanami zipped back upright and smacked her knees. “I knew it! She’s after his chastity, that witch!”

In your dreams, I have no doubt.

“Anyway, my lunch?” I said.

“You realize this is why you have no friends, right?” With that helpful little gem, Yanami pulled out an aluminum bento box—just the one. “Hold the lid,” she said.

I did. Yanami stabbed her chopsticks into the rice.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Remember what I said yesterday? Can’t bring two boxes.” She shakily hoisted up a chunk of rice, then dunked it into the lid I was holding. The glob had quite a bit of weight to it. It looked halfway to mochi. “My plan this time was to just try and cram lunch for two into this one. More coming.”

The next two servings, meat and veggies both, were hard, firm blocks, molded into the shape of the bento box. “Appetizing” didn’t describe it well.

“You can eat now,” said Yanami.

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

I contemplated how exactly to tackle the rice glob for a ­moment. Chopsticks failed. The juices from the meat looked promising, though, so I softened and mixed the ball up in that. Progress was being made at last.

“Good?” she asked. Ballsy move, given the state everything was in.

“You made all of this?”

“Yup. And I didn’t skimp or nothin’,” she claimed proudly. “So how much?”

Thank god this wasn’t just like Mama used to make, or I’d have had questions about her childhood. I noted a bit of premade croquette in one of the cubes.

“Hm. 400 yen,” I said.

“Nice. I’ll take it.” Yanami chomped into her rice glob, blissfully unaware that I was being nice with that appraisal. Granted, there was a lot of it. “Might even have it all paid back before summer vacation.”

She was right. Couldn’t forget that these little get-togethers were temporary—only until she’d covered what she owed me. Which was whatever. The time limit made it bearable, maybe even enjoyable in the moment. Not that I’d let her off the hook early.

Yanami lidded her now-empty bento box sometime later and stood up. “Wanna head upstairs? There’s a really nice view of campus from there.”

I couldn’t think of a reason to refuse, so I followed. From up top, beneath a cloudless July sky, we could make out the track team mid-practice.

“Hey, that looks like Lemon-chan.” Yanami leaned against the rail and pointed. There was no mistaking that tanned figure. She broke away almost immediately, leaving her peers in the dust. “Man, she’s fast.”

The type of person who could spend their fifty-minute break eating, changing, practicing, and then changing again could not be me. And not in a derogatory way. Watching them just felt like watching birds fly.

“She won the hundred meter in that city-wide rookie race,” I said. “Even placed in the inter-high prelims.”

“You know a lot about her.” The noticeboard did, at least. And I knew a lot about that. “Lemon-chan’s so incredible.”

It was mindless banter. So I started to make a mindless reply. When I saw her, though, I swallowed it back down.

Tears swelled in the corners of her eyes. One fell and trickled down her cheek, glistening in the sun, before the wind carried it away. There was nothing manufactured about this expression. No goofy non sequiturs were on her lips. A girl I barely knew was crying in front of me, and I didn’t know what to do. Time felt like jelly. Thick and slow yet impossible to grasp.

“Y-Yanami-san, are you okay?” I managed to ask.

“He didn’t pick me,” she croaked. A late realization. “Yeah, yeah. Bit late, I know.”

“H-how’d you know I was thinking that?”

Private minds were not for public reading.

“Because I’m thinking it too,” she said. “It’s setting in.”

“I…don’t follow.”

“Just, watching Lemon-chan run. Moving forward,” she went on. “And I’m not.” More tears shimmered when she blinked. “I missed my chance. I knew that day one. I think I just needed time for it to…feel real, you know?”

Yakishio darted off the starting line again, this time against the boys. One of the tall ones outpaced her right at the last minute.

“It’s hard to put into words. I think you’d understand if you ever had your heart broken one day,” Yanami said.

“You think?” I replied.

“Rejection is rejection. Hurts for everyone, and you’ll never get any closure.” She stretched out wide. “But the world keeps turning. People keep running. So all you can do is try to keep up.”

So sorta like a special scene auto-triggering in a game, I rationalized.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t know. Never been rejected,” I said with a dash of self-deprecation.

Yanami smirked at me. “Nice humblebrag, bro.”

A light novel protagonist would have known the right words to say in that moment to sweep the heroine off her feet. I didn’t, and this wasn’t a heroine. It was a loser. A loser who had to go on living while the clock kept ticking, and the one who got away kept making memories with a girl who wasn’t her.

We watched them run. The breeze filled the silence.

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