Too Many Losing Heroines! - Volume 1 - Chapter 2.2

Oral rehydration solution: a magical liquid filled with electrolytes and glucose used to treat dehydration.

“God, OS-1 is so good,” Yakishio sighed.

“It’s hitting the spot.”

Our nurse’s office always kept some handy in case of idiots like us.

Amanatsu-sensei gave us a sour look, arms crossed. “Forget class. I want the both of you resting in here for now. You there. Boy. I’ll let your teacher know. What’s your name?”

“Nukumizu, and you are my teacher,” I said. I’d long given up on her ever remembering.

“I am? That makes things easy,” she said. “They’re all yours, Konuki-chan.”

The nurse waved as Amanatsu-sensei left, then she took a seat in front of us. Sexy nurses always struck me as something of an urban legend, but the only thing legendary about Konuki-sensei were her legs, which she made a show of crossing.

An impish grin played about her lips. “How are we feeling?” she asked.

“F-fine,” I stuttered. Why couldn’t she just be normal?

“More, please!” Yakishio held out her empty bottle. She still had a bit of a funky look in her eyes.

Nurse Konuki obliged. “Drink it slow, dear.”

“Yippee!” Yakishio cheered, quickly starting on the new bottle with a doofy smile.

“Heat stroke is not to be taken lightly, you two,” the nurse said, suddenly stern. “It can be life threatening, to say nothing of potential lasting symptoms.”

“I understand,” I said. “We’re sorry.”

“Good. I know what it’s like to be young. Some things you just can’t stop. Some passions just can’t be smothered. And the harder you try, goodness, sometimes that makes it all the better. Right?”

“I’m… What?”

“It’s okay. No need to explain.” Konuki-sensei held a finger up to her lips and winked. “Whatever happened in that shed, that’s between you and your teacher.”

Communication was breaking down, and I didn’t have the energy to repair it. So I changed the subject. “Do you and Amanatsu-sensei know each other?” I asked.

“We both graduated from this very school, as a matter of fact,” Konuki-sensei answered.

“I guess that makes you both our senpai, technically. What was Amanatsu-senpai like as a student?”

“Oh, you’d never guess it now, but between you and me, she was a bit of an airhead. A total klutz.” I was positively flabbergasted at this information. “We were regulars in this office. She always had some bump or scrape that needed seeing to.” Konuki-sensei chuckled fondly. “And now here I am, working in that same room.”

She swapped legs, crossing one nylon limb over the other, and looked up at the ceiling. Her gaze wasn’t quite as distant as you’d expect from a bit of reminiscing.

“What are you looking at?” I asked.

“The stains on the ceiling. Some things never change,” she sighed.

“You have a good memory.”

She must have been a sickly kid. It was heartwarming, really, growing up to take a job in spite of her weakness. And at her alma mater too.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” the nurse said. “I just got l—I laid on my back most of the time.” I felt robbed. “Anywho, drink up and get some rest.”

Sensei pulled back the privacy curtain and put Yakishio in bed before she could doze off sitting up. I downed the last of my OS-1, and she took the empty bottle.

“Rest,” she said. “This sort of thing is worse on your body than it actually feels.”

“Right. Thank you.”

I let my head fall into the pillow. The stains on the ceiling leered down at me, evoking images of a young Konuki-sensei in our uniform. I yanked the blanket up over my head.

God, I wished she hadn’t told me that.

***

The last chime of the bell echoed in my ears. I groggily turned over. I had no idea how long I’d slept for, but from all the noise outside I guessed it might have been lunchtime. Through a gap in the curtain, I spied Yakishio fast asleep in her bed. I debated going over and fixing the sheets to cover up her exposed belly but thought better of it.

“Wow, I do not want to eat,” I muttered.

It hit me all at once. Wow, I did not want to eat. I had no appetite whatsoever. Sleeping through the break sounded much better. The cold comfort of the sheets against my cheek could not be denied.

Until Konuki-sensei threw open the curtain, that is.

“You have a visitor, Nukumizu-kun.”

Yanami leaned out from behind her and waved.

“Yanami-san?” I said, still half asleep. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you and Lemon-chan were here. Everything okay?” Yanami asked.

“Yeah. Fine.” I sat up. “Yakishio-san’s pretty zonked out.”

Konuki-sensei shot me a suggestive look. “Yanami-san here’s brought you lunch. Oh, to be young.”

“Er, Sensei, whatever you’re thinking, it’s probably wrong,” I said.

She nodded knowingly (she did not, however, know). “Don’t you worry. I can take a hint. You’ve got the room, Yanami-san. I’m going to step out for a few.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you!” Yanami called after her. “Hungry, Nukumizu-kun?” She held out a bag with a bento box inside.

“The door locks, by the way,” Konuki-sensei said just before leaving. She wasn’t even trying to hide the smirk on her lips. Amanatsu-sensei was one thing, but how in the world was she allowed to be a teacher?

“The heck’s that?” I said under my breath.

I noticed the glare of a lens deep within the clutter of books on the nurse’s desk. It was a phone. A currently recording one. I went ahead and turned it off.

“What are you doing?” Yanami asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “Let’s eat.”

We took seats across from each other. Yanami pulled out a large Tupperware container. Evidently, the era of cramming two portions into one bento box was over. Inside was a big yellow blob.

“Omurice?” I said.

“Yep, and I’m proud of how this one turned out. See how pretty it looks? I folded that baby perfect.”

She stabbed a spoon into the middle and cut it in half. I waited, patiently wondering how exactly we were going to split this. Surely we wouldn’t be taking turns with the same spoon. Surely she wasn’t that crazy.

She handed me a spotless white plate. “Borrowed some stuff from home ec,” she said. “Take it.” I did. Yanami scooped out my portion and dumped it onto the dish rather gracelessly. “There. Manners—hands together. Let’s eat.”

I followed suit. “Th-thanks.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had omurice. One bite was enough to bring me back. That was the flavor of childhood right there.

“Good, huh?” said Yanami. “What’s the verdict?”

“I’ll say…400 yen.”

“Not bad, not bad.” She nodded and took another bite. I felt that was a fair pricing. It was about what you could expect buying premade meals at the store. “Very mindful of you.”

I was going to regret taking this bait. “What?”

“It’s a delicate balance. You don’t want to be rude, so you don’t go too low, and you don’t wanna come off as a cheapskate either. That pushes the price up. But going too high means less for you in the long term. That pushes the price down,” Yanami explained. “S’just social dynamics.” I had no words. She’d hit the bullseye, and judging from her pompous smirk, she knew it. “Where those lines intersect is where you got 400 from. Tell me I’m wrong.”

She wasn’t, and that was the worst part. Did she realize I was being generous? Did she even care?

“I’ve got a question for you,” she went on. “Is 400 really what you meant? Listen to your heart, Nukumizu-kun. What does it tell you?”

She’d made a strong case. I couldn’t lie anymore. “If you say so. Three hundred—”

“Nuh-nuh-no! Wrong direction!” Yanami sputtered. Her machinations were truly a mystery. “Sheesh, man. That’s your problem right there, Nukumizu-kun.”

That right where?

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll break 400 one way or another.” Thunk. Yanami produced a thermos.

“Adding soup to up the value, huh?” I mused.

Naive. We lived in a world of surplus and competition. Soup came free with most lunch specials nowadays. Some cafés even threw in coffee and toast.

Yanami unscrewed the top and poured the contents onto the omurice. “Who said it was soup?”

“Béchamel sauce?” So that was why there hadn’t been any ketchup. Personally, I was more of a ketchup guy, but points for fanciness. Taste dictated that I acknowledge that much. “Four hundred fif—”

I stopped myself. This was a slippery slope, and at the bottom lay a world of endless toppings and endless upcharges. Patience.

“Go on,” Yanami said. “Finish the sentence.”

I ignored her and tried a bite. “Holy…! This is awesome!”

“Heh,” she chuckled. “Got that around New Year’s. It’s the good stuff. Imperial Hotel. So how much, huh? Look me in the eye and tell me that wasn’t an Imperial experience!”

She had me. Imperial Hotel wasn’t just any brand—it was top shelf stuff. I couldn’t not appraise it accordingly. My pride as a man with taste was on the line, and I just knew that, should I disappoint, my palette would be ruthlessly put into question.

“500 yen…” I said.

“Thank ya kindly.”

Yanami sneered. She must have felt so proud of herself for nailing me like that. I was in what we in the business liked to call “damage control mode.”

There was a yawn and a swish of curtains. “What’re you guys doing? Sounds like fun.”

“Good morning, Lemon-chan,” Yanami said. “Feeling better?”

“Better than better,” Yakishio replied. “That nap was just what I needed.”

“Oh, hey. I’m glad you’re not…” I trailed off. Images resurfaced. The chaos in the shed. The sights.

Yakishio found a chair for herself, raising an eyebrow. “Hey, Nukkun, I don’t actually remember much of what happened. Do you?”

“Who, me? Oh, totally! Amanatsu-sensei found us!” I shot off.

“I don’t remember that at all. Guess she’s the one who got me fresh clothes.” She tugged at her gym uniform.

The tan lines.

“Yup! Uh-huh! It was all Amanatsu-sensei, and I wasn’t looking! Didn’t see a thing!”

“Uh, yeah, I’d hope so,” Yakishio said. “Why would you?”

“Nukumizu-kun, you’re being kinda gross,” said Yanami.

The looks they gave me. They stung. I could hear the void calling.

“Anyway, what is that? It looks super yummy!” Yakishio said.

“Oh, it totally is,” Yanami said. “Made it myself! Here, open up.” She held out a bite for Yakishio, who graciously accepted.

“That is good! The sauce totally makes it. What even is it?”

“Imperial Hotel, and I know, right? You’ve got good taste. Unlike some people.” Yanami gave me a smarmy glance as she held out another bite for Yakishio—from my plate. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

“Excuse me.” The door rattled open. “Is Lemon here?”

Ayano Mitsuki poked his head in, catching Yakishio mid-bite, mouth agape. He made a wry smile.

Yakishio shot upright. “Mitsuki?!” Her face turned from tawny to bright red.

“I heard you’d passed out from heat stroke,” Ayano said. “Guess I worried a little too much.”

“Nuh-uh! Oh, I’m feeling so faint. I’m so glad you’re here to nurse me back to health!”

“Here.” He held out a bag of fruit cups and apple sauce. “I’m guessing you have an appetite.”

“You got all that for me?” Yakishio said.

“Maybe jumped the gun a bit. I don’t know why I thought you’d be worse off.”

“I am! I’m so sick I can hardly swallow! Thank you so much!”

“You might be right.” Ayano reached for her cheek.

“M-Mitsuki?!”

He plucked a grain of rice from her face. “I’d have trouble eating from there too.”

“I-I-I… Th-thank—”

“Anyway, I don’t mean to be a bother,” he said.

“D-do you wanna stay a while?” Yakishio spat out. “Yanami-san made omurice, and it’s really good!”

“She did, huh?”

“Mitsuki-san. There you are.” Another visitor appeared at the still-ajar door—Ayano’s study buddy, Asagumo Chihaya.

“Oh, did you need me for something, Chihaya?” Ayano asked her. 

“I was thinking of using the study rooms later, since we don’t have lessons today. Would you like to join me?”

“Sorry, I’ve got to be home early today. I’ll see you there tomorrow.”

“Okay. I’ll message you tonight.” Asagumo promptly traipsed away. 

Ayano smirked back at her. “So much for ‘see you tomorrow,’ I guess.” There was something there. Something that definitely hadn’t been when I went to cram school with those two. “I’m going back to class. Take it easy, okay, Lemon?”

“I-I will,” Yakishio replied. “Thanks!” She watched Ayano leave with forlorn eyes. It was a textbook case of lovesickness.

“Hey.” Yanami materialized next to me and jabbed me in the ribs. “What’s with Miss Doe Eyes?”

I sighed. “She’s got a crush on Ayano.”

“Huh. Interesting pair.”

“I went to the same junior high school as them, but I think they’ve been together since elementary.”

“Which makes them,” Yanami deduced, “childhood friends.”

I didn’t buy it and made that known on my face.

She shook her head. “You just don’t get it, Nukumizu-kun. There are two types of women in this world: besties and bitches.” Quite the dichotomy. Yanami scowled at me. “So which one is that other girl?”

“That was Asagumo-san,” I said. “They met at cram school, third year of junior high if I remember right.”

Yakishio, having finally come back down to planet Earth, slammed her hands down and leaned across the table. The dishes clattered. “What do you guys think she is to him?!”

“Personally,” Yanami said, “I don’t see how they could be anything but friends, given how little time they’ve known each other for.”

“I knew it! I totally agree!” Yakishio shouted.

“Okay, come on. You guys saw the way they looked at each other,” I interjected. The ensuing vitriol was incredible. Silent eyes threatened my very life. I shrank away. “I’m… I’m sorry?”

“So, what?” Yanami accused. “You think a year-long fling means more than a time-tested childhood bond? Is that what you’re saying?”

Yakishio nodded. “What she said! Yanami-san gets it!”

Something about this felt disingenuous. Like a washed-up veteran giving dated advice to a newcomer.

“I feel a connection with you, Lemon-chan. The kind I can’t really describe,” Yanami said. “I’m rooting for you, girl.”

“That means so much to me, Yanami-san!” said Yakishio. “I feel like I can take on the world now!”

And they lived happily ever after. Except for me.

“Yakishio-san, you’re eating my lunch,” I said.

“I am? It’s pretty good. You should have some too.”

“You’re using my spoon.”

“I mean, then take it.” She held the spoon between her teeth, bobbing the handle up and down at me.

I reluctantly pried it from her. The warm, glistening, saliva-coated silver was almost… No. Not even a little. It was disgusting. I jammed it back into her mouth. She gurgled.

“I’m not that hungry anyway. You can have it,” I said. I was never good with eating or drinking after people. A trait I often forgot about myself, because I never ate or drank with people much to begin with.

“Well, then I’d just feel bad. I can leave a little for you.”

“A little.” I’m honored.

“Oh, by the way, Nukumizu-kun,” Yanami said through a mouthful of omurice. “Komari-chan told me to tell you to be at the club room after school. No excuses.”

I wondered what for. Maybe the student council had found something new to get on the lit club about.

I let my eyes rest on the girls and their ricey, omelety feast. They were attractive, I had to give them that. The only fly in the ointment was, well, everything else about them. An odd kinship connected them. I could already tell that Yakishio had the ­makings of a loser, just like Yanami.

“Whew,” Yakishio sighed, “that was good.” Suddenly, I tasted metal, then egg, then sauce. My (admittedly extremely rude) train of thought was cut short by a spoonful of omurice. “See? Told ya I’d leave some.” She shot up out of her chair. “I’mma head back. Tell the nurse I said thanks.”

Did she have any notion of the concept of hygiene? You couldn’t just go around shoving spit-covered spoons in people’s mouths, especially when it was your spit. Being cute could excuse some things, but not that. Regardless, Yakishio left, escaping justice, and I was frozen stiff.

Yanami snickered. “Someone’s blushing.”

“A-am not!”

“So naughty, indirect kisses at school. The scandal!”

“I-I’m not blushing!” I lifted up my plate and started shoveling the last bit of the omurice into my mouth.

“Oh, by the way, I won’t be able to make it to club,” she said. “Going shopping with a friend.”

“All right. Noted.”

Wait a minute, she still planned on going to club? I would have been impressed even hearing she remembered what its name was.

“You won’t be too lonely without me, will you? No crying, okay?”

She was laying it on thick. Would the teasing never end? I looked up, disgruntled, to see that she was genuinely frowning at me. Now I was just confused.

“I’ll manage, thanks,” I said.

“Phew.” Yanami scooped up the last few grains of rice on her plate. “Hang in there. You’ll be all right.”

What in the world was I to this girl?

***

Tsukinoki-senpai looked at me, then at Komari. The air was heavy. Komari fiddled around with her fingers before quickly hiding them beneath the desk when she realized I was watching.

“We are gathered here today for one reason and one reason only,” the vice president began. “A matter concerning the very existence of the literature club has presented itself.” She theatrically raised two fingers, one on each hand. “I have unfortunate news and annoying news. Which do you want to hear first?”

“No good news?” I asked.

“I can give you the unnecessarily-and-tediously-verbose option if you like.”

“Never mind. Let’s have the unfortunate news first.”

Tsukinoki-senpai nodded and lowered one of her fingers. “Our days of lazy reading are over. We are now authors.”

“You weren’t already writing things?” I said. “You’re the lit club.”

“We did,” the vice prez said. “Once. Even released a periodical journal. One theoretical member of ours potentially won an award from MEXT too.”

Wow, color me impressed.

“Why did you stop?” I asked.

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” She clicked her tongue and wagged her remaining finger. “We say we will write, and then we don’t.”

Komari nodded enthusiastically. There was an in-joke I was clearly missing.

“Long story short,” Senpai said, “the student council called us out at the club president meeting. They said we haven’t been functioning as described in our activities.”

“Well, I mean…”

“Which is strange, because I thought I did a pretty good job at hiding that little tidbit of our club.”

A very scary student council lady came to mind. Uh-oh. It was time to change the subject.

“Why not start another journal?” I said.

“That would mean paying for paper, printing, and finding a way to distribute it. No, I have a better idea.” Tsukinoki-senpai thrust out her phone. “Our pens shall leave their marks on the world wide web! On Bungou ni Narou!” Komari clapped her furious little hands. Senpai gestured for silence again. I suspected the audience was planted. “The important thing is that we upload something. It can be a short story, chapter one to something ­longer, whatever.”

Narou was a popular self-publishing website. We wouldn’t have to worry about paper, printing, or distribution.

“That takes us to the annoying news,” she continued. I sat up straight. “In order to get the creative juices flowing, the lit club will be holding a field trip!”

“A what?” I said.

“A rec center in Tahara just so happened to have an opening in their lodge this weekend. I snagged us two rooms.”

“Wait a minute, this weekend is two days from now.”

“The publishing biz moves fast, baby. You rookies have a lot to learn if you wanna keep up with me!”

Komari started to clap again, thought a bit, and then tapped at her phone. She held it out. “I’d rather stay home,” it read.

I was with her there.

Tsukinoki-senpai chuckled ominously. “Clearly the implications aren’t apparent enough. See if you still feel that way after I mention…” she flashed a grin, her glasses gleaming, “canned goods.”

Like tuna? Soup? Surely there was more to it than that. Maybe she was referencing a certain deadline-crazed author trapped in a hotel, but that felt flimsy at best. Also, literally, how was that relevant?

Komari got it, apparently. Her eyes sparkled. “Whoa…”

“Exciting, right?” said Senpai. “Doesn’t it just get your blood pumping?”

“Yeah!” Komari cheered, nodding at mach speed. “Canned goods!”

Obviously, I had missed a memo somewhere.

“You can write on your phone or on paper, whatever you prefer,” Senpai said. “The president will be bringing his laptop, so we’ll make uploads from there.”

“But none of us have even decided what to write about,” I pointed out.

“We’ll worry about that come the weekend. For now, everyone get brainstorming.”

I had an idea or two rolling around in my head, but nothing I’d really developed into an actual plot ready to be put to paper. This was a tad sudden.

“Do you know what you’re writing?” I asked.

“I mean, it’s Bungou ni Narou. Probably some isekai.” Sur­prisingly trendy of her. “The hook’ll be Mishima gets isekai’d after committing harakiri, Dazai can’t live without him and hurls himself into the Tamagawa Aqueduct.”

Less trendy, but okay.

“Wait, that doesn’t line up. Didn’t Dazai die first, then Mishima?” I said.

“Don’t like, don’t read,” Tsukinoki-senpai proclaimed. “Little details like that are trifling in the face of true love.”

“Care to back that up, Komari-san?” I whispered.

She typed for a moment without offering me so much as a sidelong glance. “Yes. You don’t get it. True literature is about the heart.”

“In my universe, all you need to get over taking a hit from a Yamanote line train is a quick dip in a hot spring, so it’s whatever,” Senpai said. “Shame neither of you are eighteen yet, because boy is it gonna be spicy.”

Was R-rated content going to fly for officially released club material?

“Bad… Family friendly, please.”

Yeah, that’s what I’m—

I nearly jumped out of my own skin. Standing in a shadowy corner of the room was Shikiya-san, second-year student council pencil pusher.

Tsukinoki-senpai gave her a quick glance, completely unfazed. “How long have you been there?”

“Dunno,” Shikiya-san breathed. “Fell asleep. Waiting on people.” Her head fell languidly to one side with her eyes fixed on me. “You have a proper club… Very good.” She jotted something down (without looking again) then collapsed onto a chair. “Tsukinoki-senpai… Field trips require papers. Please submit them.”

“Will do,” Senpai said. “I’ll herd the president over there by tomorrow.”

“We are always watching…”

Would it hurt them to blink? Like, once? She was scaring Komari. Poor thing was shaking over in the opposite corner.

“Is it just me, or do you guys have it in for us?” Senpai griped.

“We are indiscriminate in our proceedings… Expenditures. Budgeting. Disbandment. Eradication…” Shikiya-san trailed off, and just like that, in grim silence, she shuffled away.

I still didn’t know how to comprehend her existence. I doubted I ever would.

“Do you, uh… Do you guys know each other?” I asked Senpai.

“We have a bit of history,” she replied. “Normally, she’s a little more docile. Doesn’t move a whole lot, that girl.”

“Is she, like, okay?”

“She’s got surprisingly good grades. Was in the top ten on the last test, apparently.”

A gyaru(?) and a scholar? That was the perfect combo, as far as I was concerned. If only she weren’t utterly terrifying.

“You seem pretty smart yourself,” I said.

Komari rushed over and kicked my chair hard. “N-Nukumizu! We don’t… We don’t talk about Tsukinoki-senpai’s grades!”

“Are they bad?” I stopped myself from commenting on the irony of her wearing glasses.

“I prefer the term ‘brimming with potential,’” Senpai said. “Also, speak for yourself. You had a midterm recently, didn’t you?”

“Uhhh, I think I ended up thirty-seventh in my grade.”

Shocked silence filled the room. Did I look that dumb?

“I’m sensing a lack of potential,” Tsukinoki-senpai said.

“It’s very…middling,” Komari added. “Be better.”

Did I really deserve this?

“You could have had a steamy rivalry with the cool, bespectacled valedictorian,” Senpai ranted, “or a red-blooded friendship with the confident and assertive class representative who ‘helps’ his bro out of a tight spot in his studies. There’s just nothing to work with.”

I didn’t mind that.

“O-or at the very least,” Komari chimed in, “you could be 222nd like Tsukinoki-senpai. Th-that could be something.”

“Heh, what can I say?”

What was she so proud of? There were six classes of first-years of about thirty-eight students each, which put the total at…228.

“Don’t you have college exams coming up?” I said.

“I’m well aware and not worried,” she said. “I’m very decisive. Even got a first choice all picked out already.”

“I’d be more concerned about whether they pick you.”

The glasses and her pretty-girl demeanor had lowered my guard. Now, though, I could be certain. She was as crazy as the rest of them.

“Wh-what are we doing Saturday, Senpai?” Komari said.

The vice president quickly pulled out her phone. “Right. So we’ll wanna head waaay south on Atsumi, get off at some point, and maybe take a bus. There’ll probably be one.”

Maybe you can check?

“All right, Aidai-Mae station sounds good.” She beamed. “Be there at seven or eightish. And don’t be late!”

She wasn’t gonna check.

***

I took a detour by Toyohashi station on my way home. Seibunkan’s flagship outlet was there, the city’s largest bookstore and the best place for me to check up on releases.

Knowing that we’d be publishing our own original stuff on Bungou ni Narou, I had to make sure I was up to date on the latest trends. I’d already researched the trending tags and featured works online, but that was like fishing for a whale in open ocean. Physical media operated by different rules. Couldn’t neglect good old-fashioned legwork.

I scanned the titles laid out for display. “Isekai, isekai, and more isekai…”

Some read like the setup to a joke. Others bordered on period piece. I picked up one book, then another, then another, studying the subtle nuances and thematic shifts. How fascinating it was to witness a genre evolve and establish its own quirks in real time.

“Seems like the play to me.”

“M-move, Nukumizu.” A small girl shoved me out of the way.

“Komari-san? What are you doing here?”

“R-research,” she said. “I don’t…know much about light novels. I came to st-study.” She scanned the colorful mosaic of covers. “They’re…getting pretty big these days.”

“Yep. Most start out self-published online,” I explained. “That’s the current trend, anyway. They call that particular variety of fantasy isekai ‘narou-kei’ or ‘narou-style.’”

“Th-that’s the reincarnation stuff?”

“That’s an element of it, yeah. Over the last decade we’ve seen some twists on it, though. Superpowers and slow-life elements are pretty much part and parcel nowadays, which may sound unrelated, but it’s all connected by the same theme. It all comes back to folk who are burnt out on modern society and are looking for an escape.”

“Wh-what’s the theme?”

“Validation,” I continued. “Making the reader feel invincible and the world feel like a welcoming place.”

“Isn’t that what…slice-of-life is for?” Komari asked.

“It can be, but it’s missing the whole ‘cheating the system’ aspect. Because, well, most readers are only really going to experience retirement through characters who have what they don’t. And they know that.”

Komari grimaced. “B-being an adult sounds depressing…”

“Everything in the genre comes down to two basic fundamentals: glory through battle, and love and peace everywhere else. The only thing that changes between works is how those concepts are portrayed and balanced. What’s interesting, though, is there’s this whole subgenre of ostracized protagonists that’s been splintering away from more female-oriented stories that center around doormat heroines and—”

“O-okay, I get it!” she interjected. “J-jeez, you could make a title out of that rant… What’s the deal with those anyway?”

A reasonable question I had answered numerous times in my head.

“The title functions as a sort of neon sign for the reader, conveying what makes that particular book special. Like a tagline on a snack at the store, basically,” I said. “That’s why they all sound the same. They’re all following the same general tenets.”

“So, do…do you have a title all picked out, then?”

“Sure do. Sage from Another World Aims for a Slow and Sustainable Lifestyle via Reincarnation Cheats! Fits the format perfectly. My first goal’ll be to place in the rankings, then—”

“I found it.”

“You what?”

Well, damn. There it was. And it had five volumes already. That was a shame. The protagonist would have been on his sixth wife by then, if it were me.

Komari tried and failed to stifle her snickering. “A-after all that…and there’s a book with the exact same title,” she giggled.

I sulked to myself. “Well, what about you? Have you decided what you’re writing?”

“Not isekai… Not really interested. I-I was thinking more something like this.” She guided me to another section of the corner where romance and folk novels filled the shelves. I recognized a few that had movie adaptations. “I-I’ve actually been working on it for a while.”

“For real?” Komari of all people had gotten the jump on me? “What, uh… What’s the title?” I wasn’t above pilfering an idea or two.

Komari waffled a few times before shyly showing me her phone. “Ayakashi Café’s Comfy Case Files.”

Sounded like something bordering on proper literature. Little more grounded, but still character-focused. This was, unfortunately, entirely not my field. I perused the shelves to get a better idea of the genre.

I grabbed one of the books. “Wait, this is literally your title.”

“N-no!” Komari protested. “Look! That’s case record. Mine’s case files.”

“And that makes it different?”

“Y-yes. It does.” She puffed her chest out, her tiny body positively overflowing with certainty.

“Copyright infringement’s on the table. Noted.”

“Y-your title was worse.”

“Pot meet kettle, Komari.”

That set her off. She looked at me like I’d insulted her family. “‘K-Komari’?! What happened to the ‘-san’?!”

“Oh, so you can call me Nukumizu all you want, but now I’m the bad guy? It’s easier to say that way.”

“I-I mean, I guess.” Komari gripped the edge of her shirt. Always so difficult.

“I’m gonna get my books and leave,” I said.

“W-w-wait!” she blurted. “I-is… Is Y-Yanami coming?”

“No? I came alone.”

“N-not today, I mean! Is she, um, joining the lit club?”

“Dunno,” I said. “She mentioned showing up, so she’ll probably be there again. You worried she’ll ghost us?”

I imagined she would have liked having another girl her age around.

“She… She’s pretty…” Komari mumbled.

“True, but why’s that got you worried?”

“Pretty girls…don’t join the lit club.”

Now that was outright slander. On behalf of all bookish girls in the world, I was offended.

“Oh, come on. Tsukinoki-senpai’s plenty pretty,” I said.

A dangerous thought occurred to me. There were only two girls in the lit club. I’d just complimented one. Oh god, how was I going to save this?

“Sh-she doesn’t count. And I’m, w-well…”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up.”

We sure were heading right where I knew we would. It was time to play I Spy.

I snuck a glimpse at her out of my periphery. Her trembling lips were certainly unremarkable, and her bangs were messy, and you could barely see her eyes through them, and what you could see was similarly unremarkable, but she was far from ugly.

“You’ve got plenty to work with,” I said. “You shouldn’t put yourself down like that.”

Komari made a weird guttural sound at the back of her throat, and her bag fell to the floor. She leaped away from me several paces, face on fire.

She managed to squeak out, “H-hashtag Me Too…”

“What? Why?! I hardly even said anything!” I blubbered. “I wasn’t trying to be weird, okay?”

How had one little half compliment gotten so quickly spun in the wrong direction? Komari kept glaring. A wave of exhaustion hit me. She really hated my guts.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Your appearance is your business.”

“O-oh. Sure. That’s that, then.”

It was easy to forget I was doing this girl a favor by even involving myself with the lit club.

“I’ll see what I can do about Yanami. Then you won’t have to see me as much.” I spun around and started to leave. I was so ready to get my crap and go home.

“Wha… Huh?! W-wait!”

Komari smacked me in the back of the head before I could get far.

“Ow! What’s wrong with you?”

“I-I wasn’t trying to…!” she sputtered. “I didn’t mean…!” She stepped right up to me. I could almost see fumes puffing out of her ears. What reason she had to be mad was anyone’s guess. If anything, I deserved a tantrum or two. “Y-you better not ditch, o-or I’ll…! I’ll tell Senpai!”

“All right, all right, I get it. I’ll be there tomorrow,” I said.

Komari whipped out her phone and started furiously typing before shoving the screen in my face. “Not just tomorrow! Every day!”

“Every day?”

“Every day!” she spat, a little too literally. And without another word, she scurried away.

I was left utterly confused, dumbfounded, and flabbergasted. I wiped the droplets from my face. She really had to learn to say it, not spray it.