"Kinda fun to be running super late once in a while, huh?!" "Don't slap my butt. This is all your fault!"
"Nuh-uh! It's your fault for being a big ol' sweepyhead!" "Dammit. You're right."
There I was, on one of those stupid bikes with a basket on the front, standing on the pedals as I tried to make it to school on time. The constant rattling of the chain was almost as annoying as Iroha's voice from behind me. She was smacking me on the butt and cackling like a lone ranger spurring on her horse.
It wasn't legal in the least, and I was sure someone was going to catch it on a dashcam and upload us to the internet, but right now all I cared about was getting to school. If we walked, we'd be late.
If the police stopped us, it'd take even more time, but I compensated for that by taking the shortest route that still avoided their patrols. I couldn't afford to overlook even the smallest chance of a hitch if we wanted to make it on time.
What I hadn't reckoned with was the dead weight behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. Iroha was still sitting sideways on the back, kicking her legs. "Hold on properly, dumbass, or you're gonna fall off."
"I'll be fine! My balance is perfect! But if you ask really nicely, I'll give you a super tight hug!"
"Watch the turn."
"W-Wait!" Iroha screamed. "Wait! I'm gonna fall!"
I took the corner at full speed, the bicycle tilting as I did so. Flustered,
Iroha threw her arms around my waist, forcing me to lower myself back onto the saddle. We could probably afford to slow down a little at this point.
"Who goes that fast 'round a corner? Sheesh."
"Who sits on the back of a bike hands-free? See how dangerous that
was?"
Iroha grumbled, but I soon saw—or rather felt—her breaking into a grin
again.
"Oh really? Sure you just didn't want me to hug you?"
"Huh?"
"Don't worry! I get it. After all, cycling while carrying a super cute girl
with you is every hot-blooded high school boy's dream! Ain't I niiice, fulfilling the dreams of virgins whereeeever I goooo?"
Did she really have to draw out her vowels like that?
She pushed and rubbed herself against my back. I could definitely feel them, even if she was wearing a bra this time.
"Quit it."
"Ooh, c'mon! I know your heart's pounding!"
"Shut up and hold tight."
Just calm down, Aki. Peace. Tranquility. Existence is meaningless.
Nothing matters. There is no Iroha.
I kept pedaling, filling my mind with peaceful thoughts to try and chase out the demons of temptation. If I let this situation get to me now, she'd notice, and I'd never hear the end of it. I didn't want her to have that kind of power over me.
"Why so serious, Senpai?"
"What are you talking about now?"
"You could just be late, tell the teacher you overslept."
"I don't wanna ruin my reputation without a good excuse."
"Who cares? You're always such a goody-two-shoes, not like anyone's
gonna say anything if you're late once."
"Sure, but there's something else."
"What?"
"My homeroom teacher is Murasaki Shikibu-sensei, remember? And I do
not want a lecture about tardiness from her."
To our illustrator, Kageishi Sumire, deadlines were just meaningless
dates. Not to mention she liked to draw young boys paired up with grown women, but maybe that was a different matter.
"I have to show I'm better than her, or she'll start to rebel."
"Damn, I guess our director's got a lot on his plate!" Iroha chuckled, though it was clear she sympathized for once. "But are you sure you don't
mind me riding with you?"
"Nah. It's not like any of the people looking know who we are. As long as
Tsukinomori-san isn't out doing his grocery shopping or something, we should be fine. But it's a weekday, so he should be at work."
"That's not what I mean..." Iroha paused. "I'm more worried about... Well, what if Mashiro-senpai saw us?"
The sound of her name instantly made me tense up.
"You really wanna bring her up?"
"Why not, Mr. Popular?"
"Isn't that a compliment? Are you trying to use flattery to annoy me now?
'Cause that's not how that works."
"Don't get carried away now! It's just one girl! Mess it up, and you may
have to embrace being Forever Alone! That's a real thing that happens, y'know."
"Happens where? To who? Citation needed."
"I read it in the latest issue of Cosma!"
"A fashion magazine is hardly a credible source."
"Y'know, if you really want to avoid messing things up with Mashiro-
senpai, I could always give you some special...training," she whispered into myear.
Any other girl, and I'd have no clue if she was serious or not. That was partly why I was still a virgin. But this was Iroha.
"Quit messing with me."
"What the hell?! That's a weak reaction! You're not even blushing!" "If you wanna see me blush, why don't you come pay me a visit in the
dead of night? But you don't have the balls, right?"
"Y-Yes, I do! I'll show you that I'm a world-class sex machine!" "Sure, show up, and then I'll kick you right in those balls. That'll show
you."
"Okay, that's rude and stupidly violent! I don't actually have balls! For
your information, I have..."
We were at it again. It was just how things went with us. Even when she
was trying to be alluring, or whatever, we ended up bickering. That was why I could never take anything she said seriously. A whole grain of salt was too much for anything that came out of her mouth.
"Okay, we're at the final stretch! I'm going all out now, 'kay?"
We whooshed past the final corner, and then I pedaled hard for the last spurt to school. I felt Iroha tighten her grip on me.
"So stubborn, Senpai. Though I guess that means nothing's gonna change, huh?" Iroha's murmur was carried away by the wind before it even reached myears.
***
Homework and mandatory tasks were debts with interest in the form of extra motivation. So many people say they'll just do it later, later, later...but that just makes things worse. Why? Because with each passing day, the energy and motivation required to complete the task piles up just like interest on a loan.
If you set yourself to completing them immediately, you'd be done in an hour. But when dragged out, they end up taking hours or even days.
What a waste of time. I struggled to think of anything more inefficient. The same rule applies to human relationships.
If you have a problem with someone, you can't just leave it unaddressed
for ages. You need to tell 'em about it right away. Well, as soon as you get a socially acceptable opportunity to do so, that is. So I guess it's less "tell 'em right away," and more "tell 'em as soon as possible."
I'm sure you've seen it all the time in manga and anime. A character just says: "Oh, I'll tell them later," or just assumes that their hunch is wrong because they have no proof, so they stay quiet about it. It's so dumb.
Just say something, for God's sake.
Oh, and that dumb trope where the other person isn't listening for like one second so the guy is just like: "No... It's nothing..." and leaves?
Dude, just repeat yourself. It's not hard.
Anyway, that's why I always try and sort things out as quickly as possible, or respond to any hunches as soon as I can. And why I'm going to tackle my fake girlfriend's confession directly too.
I slid into the classroom just moments before homeroom was due to start. Mashiro was already at her desk.
It was weird, but she suddenly looked much sexier than usual. Was that
Motivation is a lot like money.
because she confessed to me? When I approached her, I could smell a sweet scent coming off her. It was like I was a bee thirsting for nectar, and she was a beautiful flower inviting me in.
What the hell was I doing, getting so worked up about a pretty girl? Didn't I have a script to follow?
I tried to play it cool and put my bag on my desk, then turned to Mashiro. "Hey, Mashiro—"
"What?" Her face snapped up and she glared at me.
If you were one of those shy guys always reading in a corner, you
probably know the look. It's the same one you get when you try to interact with one of the popular girls, the sort that makes you nope out of talking to girls for the rest of your life. As for me, it certainly took off a good chunk of my health.
"A-About that message you sent me on LIME..."
"Who said you could talk to me?"
You know those super-serious teachers who spend twenty-five years
teaching literature with a quiet passion? The sharpness in Mashiro's tone was enough to snap their glasses in two and put them off teaching for life.
I took another five points of damage.
"D-Did I do something wrong? You seem kinda upset."
"Oh, nothing. Your voice just makes me sick, that's all. So don't talk to
me. Thanks."
Wait, so you know those guys who swagger round the streets like they're
hot stuff? The poison in Mashiro's words was enough to send them to the hospital crying out in pain.
For me, it was a critical hit.
I clutched at my chest and doubled over in pain.
Why was she treating me like shit again? Never mind "again," this was
even worse than before! Was this really how a fake girlfriend was supposed to treat her fake boyfriend? I pricked my ears to see what other people were saying about us. Surely they could see what the problem was here?
"They're getting on swell as usual!"
"Huh? But it looks like she's being super cold to him. Are you sure they're actually a couple?"
"Bro, this is why you're a virgin and always will be. They're just communicating telepathically! We could never define what's been said
between his heart and hers!"
"Oh, yeah! I get it! So they're just like an old married couple!"
I didn't know what I was expecting. I wish they'd teach me some of their
optimism, and how to identify telepathic communications. It seemed like a useful skill.
I turned my gaze back to Mashiro, who pointedly huffed and looked in the other direction. I could barely believe this was the same girl who confessed to me over LIME. Or maybe that wasn't a confession at all?
No, that was going too far. She literally said "I love you." Also, it came from her account. There was no doubt.
So if the confession wasn't sus, then how was I supposed to interpret Mashiro's attitude towards me right now? It completely threw me for a loop. Also, was it just me, or was her desk a little further away from mine than
usual?
None of this made any sense. If she refused to answer me physically,
maybe it was time to take my efforts to the digital world. I pulled out my phone and opened up LIME.
AKI: Why are you ignoring me? I wanted to talk about your confession.
Mashiro: Because it's way too embarrassing! (* *) I love you so much that I can't even look at you!
It took her about two seconds to type that reply.
Okay, so she did like me. The bags of salt I got from her just now were replaced by a truckload of sugar. At least she didn't hate me, so that was good. I guess. I looked up at her.
"What are you looking at?" she snapped with enough hatred to send the greatest major league baseball player the world had ever seen clamoring to throw in the towel.
If she loved me so much she couldn't even look at me, then what did she think she was doing right now? She was looking at me like I was the cause of every inconvenience she'd ever faced.
I opened up LIME again.
Mashiro: I get too shy when you stare at me like that!
Mashiro: If you're going to stare, I wanna be wearing something nicer than this uniform.
Mashiro: I bought some new clothes by the way! They're super grown- up, and I think you'll like them :3c
≦∀≧
Mashiro: I can't wait for you to see!
Was this a Jekyll-Hyde situation or something? Or had her LIME been hacked? My phone buzzed again as I was contemplating.
I nearly choked on my own breath when I saw who it was from. Tsukinomori Makoto.
It was literally the worst timing he could've picked. Mashiro's dad, and
my uncle... But more importantly, he was the CEO of Honeyplace Works, and the man whose daughter I was fake-dating to get me and my friends a job there.
He was weirdly prejudiced about today's youth being too hedonistic, and wanted to keep his daughter away from them as much as possible.
Oh yeah, and he had told me in no uncertain terms that I was forbidden from dating his daughter for real.
I wondered if he knew about her confession. He had to, right? Even if she was out living on her own now, Mashiro was his daughter. It was probably the kind of thing to come up in a conversation between them. I swallowed nervously as I opened up his message.
MAKOTO: I had a wonderful time last night. I can't wait to see you again.
There was a photograph attached. It looked like some sort of fancy restaurant with the nighttime city skyline visible through the window. A man and a woman were clinking their glasses and looking at each other.
The man, with an old-fashioned suave and an admirable attempt at facial hair, was my uncle. The other was a woman I'd never seen before. Or at least, I felt like I shouldn't recognize her.
She was looking at my uncle like he was the best thing since sliced bread, and her cheek was turned towards him. Much as she seemed to be enjoying his company, this woman was not his wife. It was a while since I met Mashiro's mom, but this woman looked nothing like my memory of her, not to mention she was far too young.
Who was she, then? I was sure I saw her with my uncle before.
Oh my God.
It was the waitress from Royal Guest. The one my uncle attempted to
seduce every time we met up there, throwing weird compliments at her like: "I love the way you type our order into that doodad." He did say it wouldn't be long until he scored but, to be perfectly honest, I thought he was talking
out of his ass.
I knew he liked to sleep around, but he was certainly quick on the ball
with this one. I just hoped it wouldn't turn into a huge scandal that got him fired—I needed him to stay as CEO, at least until me and my friends started working there.
Why was he sending this to me, anyway? Luckily, he was about to explain.
MAKOTO: Sorry, wrong chat.
Really? If this was the sort of thing he sent to people by accident, then it was a miracle he was still married.
Whatever. At least he wasn't messaging me about Mashiro's confession, which meant he probably didn't know. As long as I sorted it out before he found out, I was golden. It all depended on whether Mashiro was willing to talk to me properly or not. That was the real issue here, and I couldn't come up with a solution before homeroom started.
***
The classroom door rattled open, and all at once the chatter in the classroom ceased. It was time for the Venomous Queen to take her throne and lord over the peasants before her. The clacking of her heels echoed over the frozen classroom. Her gaze was as sharp as a knife, and not one hair in her immaculate ponytail was out of place. She was the very definition of regal.
"Good. It seems you've all learned when to shut up and pay attention," Kageishi Sumire said coldly, casting her gaze over the room. "Well, what are you waiting for? Who's starting us off today?"
"Y-Yes, Ma'am! Everyone rise!" the student on duty said in a wavering voice, as he led the bow to start the class.
There wasn't a squeak to be heard as everyone followed his directions. For a second I couldn't tell if this was school or a military training exercise, but that feeling wasn't unusual for one of the Queen's classes.
There was a good number of students who didn't like how Sumire ran things, though she quickly cut down such complaints using facts and logic. Strict as she was, her teaching methods made sense, and the average grades in her classes were much higher than in other teachers'. No one, neither student nor teacher, could say a word against her.
If only she took her side hustle as seriously as her main job. Unlike Kageishi Sumire, Murasaki Shikibu-sensei was an organizational disaster, and if the day ever came where she actually managed to stick to a deadline, I'd eat my cell phone.
Her queen-of-the-classroom shtick was just an act. If the class knew just how useless she normally was, they'd probably all die of shock and she wouldn't have a class left to teach.
Anyway, homeroom went on without a hitch and eventually came to an end.
"There's one last thing," Sumire said before class was over, her voice low with authority. "As you may know if you bothered to pay attention, the National Drama Fair takes place in July. As the advisor for the drama club, I am not prepared for our school to walk away without a prize."
Sumire slammed her hand down on the desk to make sure everyone was paying attention before continuing. "The members of my club hold so much talent, that people call them the 'Generation of Miracles.' Nevertheless, we are accepting new members to assure our victory in the Fair. If you think you have what it takes, forget it. If you know you have what it takes, come and see me."
A small wave of voices rippled through the class.
"Since when was she advisor for the drama club?"
"What does the drama club even do?"
"I dunno, but I bet it's super hard to get in with her as the advisor." "Yeah, I dunno. Seems like it'd be too much of a hassle to join." "If you have something to share with the class, stand up and say it
proudly!" Sumire snapped, her glare turning every face in the room pale.
I hated needless chatter as much as she did, but for once I couldn't help
but agree with my classmates. I was as surprised as them to find out she was involved with the drama club. In fact, she never even expressed an interest in drama as long as I knew her. The theatrical kind, at least.
"Be warned that we won't accept just anyone. We need people who can outshine even our current members. That is all." With that, Sumire clacked out of the room with her head held high.
After a few wary seconds, the atmosphere in the classroom relaxed once more.
"I still can't believe she's advisor for the drama club," I said to myself.
How did she even find the time for it between her two jobs? In any case, if she had this whole Fair thing on her plate, the fair thing for me to do would be to extend her deadlines. Otherwise she'd just wind up on her knees in front of me again.
From one headache to another. I shot a glance at Mashiro.
"Don't look at me."
Why did I even bother? Still, I had to come up with a way to communicate
with her in real life somehow. This lack of responsiveness was completely inefficient. For now, though, I forced myself to take a break. All this thinking wasn't working too well for me so far.
"Were you okay this morning, Aki?" someone asked me from the desk behind mine.
I turned around to see my bishie of a best friend eyeing me through a yawn, his golden hair sparkling in the sunlight. He was handsome enough to land himself a five-girl strong harem within two seconds of landing in a parallel world. Different as we were, he was the one person I decided to keep as a long-term friend: Kohinata Ozuma. I called him Ozu. Nicknames were an efficient way to deepen bonds.
"Yeah, I just overslept a little."
"Huh. That's not like you. You sure you're not tired from everything that's going on? Don't push yourself too much, yeah? I kinda like having you around."
"You flatter me, Ozu. As always."
"Hey, I'm serious. Friends are s'posed to care about each other, right?" "I was being serious too. If I didn't have you looking out for me, I dunno
where I'd be."
Ozu was my rock between the triple storms of Mashiro, Sumire, and
Iroha. His words warmed me from the bottom of my heart, but that wasn't the only reason I chose him as a friend.
"I don't want you to push yourself either," I said. "The Alliance would be toast without you, and I mean it."
Ozu's extraordinary programming skills were the backbone of the 05th Floor Alliance. Without him, our game would still be a collection of ideas and drawings. He was constantly staying up all night to work on things, and I was much more worried about his health than my own.
"You're a more important member than me. You're the director, after all.
But if it was exhaustion that made you oversleep, sending Iroha to check on you was probably a bad move."
"At least you admitted it..."
"My bad."
"It's not your fault. It's hers."
While Ozu was kind and caring, his sister was nothing but a brat. They
really were like chalk and cheese. Maybe one of them was adopted. "You know Iroha didn't even wake me up till the last minute, right?" "That doesn't surprise me. She probably wanted to watch you sleep." "Ugh, I hope not. I bet she was thinking of the most terrifying way she
could wake me."
"Nah, I like my theory better. Makes more sense, since she's got a
massive crush on you."
"Bullshit. Like I've told you a million times, she doesn't like me. If she
did, she wouldn't be such a b—" I stopped.
Maybe I was under a huge misunderstanding. Mashiro confessed to me, after all. Maybe I didn't understand girls as much as I thought I did and maybe, just maybe, some of them did like me, even though I wasn't particularly handsome or talented.
Perhaps the time had come for me to rethink my long-standing assumptions. But then again, it wasn't like Mashiro confessed to me like a normal person. The gears of my mind were turning, but Ozu inadvertently stopped them.
"Oh, right, I know you're tired, but I wanted to ask you something. Don't you think Makigai Namako-sensei's been acting weird since last weekend?"
"Ah." I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a heavy sigh.
In addition to being the writer of the 05th Floor Alliance, Makigai Namako was a best-selling light novel author. I'd never met him, but on voice calls he sounded like a friendly guy in his twenties. I loved his story, which led to inviting him to join us, which he did.
Ozu was right though. He had been acting strangely ever since last weekend.
"Remember what he said on LIME?"
"Yeah, that thing about treasuring couples or whatever."
In his award-winning work, he wrote in the afterword that he wanted to
get away from his shitty reality, as though he had some kind of grudge against it, but now he was saying that couples and romance were wonderful. It was just too weird.
"Well, I guess it's fine. Maybe he's just going through a thing, or maybe he's just gone soft for some reason. Who knows. But the bigger issue is this." I pulled a bundle of papers out of my bag.
They were new scenarios that Makigai Namako-sensei wrote and sent me the other day for our next release. I printed them out so I could read between classes.
"He's been sending me these since last week. Have a look and lemme know what you think."
Ozu took them and began to read.
Our game, Koyagi: When They Cry, was a horror and dating-sim type game. Thanks to Murasaki Shikibu-sensei's artwork, the girls were all cute with gorgeous designs. OZ's technological trickery made the horror scenes ten times spookier. Our mysterious "team" of voice actors put on an amazing performance to make the characters seem real. Finally, Makigai Namako and his way with words thrust the player into a horror-filled pit of despair.
What genius plots would this writer come up with next? Well...
Koyagi: When They Cry Chapter 7: Just Me.
My friend died! I'm so sad!
I was especially scared when all the blood came out of her.
Maybe the killer is one of my trusted friends.
I'm really scared.
But then I remembered what Yuuto-kun said to me!
"Don't worry, Marika. I'll get you out of this spooky house!"
He's so handsome!
I'm so happy my heart is dancing!
I think falling in love is about more than just looks!
The guy has to be kind too.
But Yuuto-kun is really handsome and cool!
And when I was so scared because everyone was dying, he saved me! As long as we're together, I'm happy enough to die!
He's so handsome and so cool that I'm going to make him mine, even if
the other girls get jealous!
I'm going to try so hard!
Even though the house was dark, the sun was coming up and it made it light again.
(Give the voice actress a piano solo here, and make her sing like in a musical)
The birds are so happy to see the sun and its blessings they are singing too!
I'm going to try really hard and escape from this house with Yuuto-kun!
"What the heck?" Ozu grimaced as he read.
"I know, right?" I made the exact same face when I read it.
"So what I'm getting is...the main girl's friend died, but then she ran into
the protagonist and he helped her be more, uh, optimistic? I guess?" "That's what I thought, yeah."
It was fine for her to be more optimistic or whatever, but this was a bit
much. "Delusional" didn't quite cut it. Not to mention that she said that stuff about love not being "about looks," but then also used the word "handsome" a total of three times. And what was with the singing birds after someone just died? Then there was the assumption that the voice actress could even play the piano, or that our game was supposed to have songs in it in the first place (it wasn't).
And guess what? This was just a small fraction of what he sent me. Though I don't need to show you the rest, because it was all like this.
Before this, everything he wrote was filled with the heavy atmosphere of the spooky house, the terror of the characters at the tiniest movement, the tension that gnawed away at your senses...but all of that was gone now, disappearing in puffs of cotton-candy smoke and heart-shaped confetti.
"Is this what you call writer's block?"
"I guess. All I know is he's never sent anything like this before." Perhaps something was going on in his private life. Whatever it was, I
just couldn't work out what could cause such a change, no matter how hard I thought. I didn't have time to delve much further into my thoughts when the bell rang and our first-period teacher came in.
"Guess all I can do is talk to him and see what's up."
"Yeah, please do."
And so I returned to my seat. It was then that I could sense Mashiro
staring, if not glaring, at me. "What?"
"Nothing. Don't talk to me." She turned away with a huff.
Why did everything have to be so complicated?
Mashiro's confession paired with her abuse, and now Makigai Namako-
sensei's mental breakdown, or transformation, or enlightenment, or whatever it was. Much as I wanted to sort things out with Mashiro, I couldn't turn a blind eye to this stuff with Makigai Namako-sensei either. The quality of his writing was directly linked to the popularity of our game. Unlike Ozu, whose work on the game improved it on a mostly subconscious level, most of the comments and requests for the game focused on its story. If the story was bad, the players would stop coming.
I could just imagine the comments that we'd get if we ran with this trash I'd been sent.
"Are the Alliance mistreating Makigai-sensei or something? Why else would the story end up like this?"
"Makigai-sensei! Stop wasting your time with this game and give us more novels, please!"
"I'm done. Murasaki Shikibu-sensei officially sucks."
"Wait, what?! She didn't write this crap!"
I didn't know what that last part was all about, but I did know that our
reputation would be shattered. With our popularity diminished and our downloads crashing through the floor, we would probably be waving goodbye to Honeyplace Works too.
Despite our job offers depending on my fake relationship with Mashiro, I really couldn't blame Tsukinomori-san for dropping us if our game crashed and burned. He was running a business first and foremost, after all.
I had to do something. If not for the game, then for the future of the Alliance. I was so focused on coming up with a solution to the problem, that I couldn't even tell you what was taught in the first class that day.
***
"At least Iroha isn't going crazy on me. No more than usual, anyway." "Not yet."
"Don't jinx it, dammit. She's still gonna be her old annoying self for the
rest of time, right?" "..."
"Say something!"