Chương 7
Chapter 7: My Friend’s Little Sister Is My Maid!
I managed to enlist Sasara’s help with around a week to go until the Nevermore Festival. I spent that week in a meticulous pursuit of beauty, making use of everything I’d ever learned about fashion. Every morning and evening, I followed the skin care routines I’d been taught to the letter. I followed Sasara on Pinsta and did all the exercises she uploaded to her story. I ordered some hair removal cream online and got rid of all my leg hair (it hurt like hell). I even started drinking smoothies with my meals.
Bit by bit, I could sense every inch of me transforming into a teenage girl, from the top of my head down to my toes, and I felt an indescribable sense of accomplishment. I was being taken over by it. Overflowing. I kept training so that the teenage girl growing and growing inside me could be set free on the day of the festival. I even put in contingency measures to guarantee my victory.
Not that I didn’t trust my own understanding of men and their interests, but I needed everything to be as perfect as possible to raise my chances. So I sent Otoi-san, who was on the Executive Committee, a bribe (read: candy) to set something up for me. And in case you’re wondering, that wasn’t cheating. I just made a request of her, and it wasn’t something that gave me an advantage over the others, so it was all above board. I won’t say what it was here; it’ll be obvious enough once the day rolls around. And it wasn’t long until it did.
The day of the contest came, where Iroha and I would stubbornly oppose each other on the most ridiculous battlefield imaginable—but I wasn’t prepared to lose. It was bittersweet. Uplifting music streamed through the school-wide speakers, boosting the festival cheer in the air. The faint, lingering scent of summer hung in the blue skies, brightened up by multicolored balloons, with students walking and laughing beneath them. Here and there you could spot students wearing the uniforms from other schools too. There were even adults, some of them with children, and the variety of visitors spoke volumes about the influence of the Nevermore Festival over this entire region. I guess this is how popular our school’s festival really is.
I already knew that, but this was the first time I was feeling the enthusiasm in the air in person. Last year, I’d made use of my lack of presence and skipped out on my class’s stall. Instead, I had sat behind a quiet school building with my laptop on my knees and typed away—technically, we weren’t even allowed to bring laptops.
Back then, my motto was “Reject youth, embrace Koyagi,” but now... Well, Koyagi was still my top priority, but I was less...open-minded back then. All I would focus on was the work right in front of me, and that meant I missed out on everything that was going on around me right now.
The excitement in the air. The only way to understand this sort of thing was to experience it directly, and this was more than enough for me to know what Canary had meant when she said that these experiences of youth were helpful in developing your artistic skills.
“Aki. Aki.”
“Hm?”
I stopped in my tracks when I heard Ozu calling me. We’d been going around the classrooms together to see what was on offer. Except he wasn’t next to me anymore; he was a few steps behind me, pointing into the classroom next to us.
“This is Otoi-san’s class, right? You just walked right past it.”
“Oh, sorry. I was thinking about stuff.”
“That hurts. You can’t just ignore me when we’re out on a date like this.”
“If you’re looking for a date, you should’ve gone with that girl who hit on you just now.” “Did you know that it’s impossible to understand your conversation partner if your IQs differ by more than twenty points?”
“Don’t treat her like an idiot. There have been studies that say your IQ falls below a chimpanzee’s when you’re in love. That’s why she’s dumb—it’s the love. Probably.”
“I see. That’s pretty deep.”
If there was anyone who knew the problems differing IQs could cause, it was me. It gave me a ton of trouble whenever I tried to get Ozu to fit in with society.
“Hasn’t the pretty student council president been into you recently?” I asked. “Your IQs probably aren’t all that different.”
“I dunno if I’d say she’s into me. She’s just been asking for my help with computer stuff. I don’t know her well enough to go on a date, and even then the student council’s probably just as busy as the Executive Committee today.”
“Oh, yeah. Fair.”
Anyway, we’d gone inside Otoi-san’s classroom. The entrance comprised bricks with hexagrams on them. They must have been doing fortune telling in there. Its atmosphere was exotic, emotional, and spiritual.
Walking through the entrance was like stepping into another world. The skillful use of partitions and blackout curtains created a perfect darkness. For lighting, there were lanterns—well, not real lanterns, since fire was probably against safety regulations, but lantern-shaped lamps. It was too dark to see the faces of the other guests, and the students who came to guide us were wearing deep hoods. You couldn’t even tell if they were male or female until they got right up close.
“Welcome, wandering souls. Our diviners will guide you to a happy fate. What troubles are weighing on you today?” The girl who greeted us played her part perfectly.
It felt incredibly real. Her acting was great, and then there was the low-key background music playing in the room which added to the whole thing. I was willing to bet that part was thanks to Otoi-san. “We’re here to see Otoi-san.”
“Oh my. You must be leading an incredibly strenuous life.”
Where did that pity come from?
I blinked at her doubtfully, which was when I heard Ozu reading something aloud behind me. “‘For those who seek no good advice nor deep sympathy, we have a diviner who will simply listen to your troubles and nod from time to time by the name of Otoi.’”
“Ah. That does seem like a good option for people who’ve lived a tough life.”
I could more or less guess why Otoi-san had picked to run that option too: because it was easy. I could picture her spacing out while her visitor’s words flowed in one ear and out the other as she nodded vacantly—perhaps with an occasional “uh-huh.” Then annoyingly, she would give a proper response right at the critical moment, and turn the entire ordeal into a very satisfying chat.
She was an amazingly lazy person. And amazingly efficient.
“Please, right this way.”
We followed the girl to the spaces separated by partitions. We could see glimpses through the curtains of other people getting their fortunes told, and it looked like the real deal.
“Here we are. O Otoi, I have brought you some wandering souls.”
“Cool.”
The girl opened the curtain with a dramatic flourish, where we were greeted with Otoi-san slouching back in her chair and lazily raising a hand.
“O Otoi, I beseech you to work at keeping up the atmosphere.”
“C’mon, it’s no big deal. Oh, hey, it’s Aki. And Ozu.”
The girl paused. “I shall leave the rest to you.”
“Sure thing. Thanks.”
Our guide left. I couldn’t help but smile awkwardly at just how much Otoi-san was in her own world. Ozu and I sat down in front of her.
“We’re here to hang,” I said.
“Oh. Y’didn’t hafta, but it’s whatever.”
“Here, this is for you.”
“Aw, you’re too kind. But I already knew that.”
“We were looking around, and I found a stall I thought you’d like. There’s a stall selling candy and stuff from one of the students’ families that works in a confectionery shop. Apparently they got special permission to sell their products here.”
“Yeah, I know. I got to sample the goods, and I was the one who gave permission for them to be sold here.”
“I didn’t know you were doing that kinda work,” Ozu said, his eyes wide.
Oh, right. I forgot Ozu didn’t know that Otoi-san was on the Executive Committee. The girls in our class had entered him into the King Nevermore contest, so he probably hadn’t even been near the committee’s classroom. I decided to give him some context.
“Otoi-san’s on the Nevermore Executive Committee. Part of their work is to give permission for what the stalls want to sell.”
“A small part. I’m mostly workin’ on the sound and stuff.”
“Huh, I didn’t realize you were behind the music for the entire festival. That makes sense,” Ozu said. “That’s why the music’s so seamless when you walk down the hallways. It plays so smoothly, and the volume’s been adjusted perfectly for each stall and attraction. Like how the music is quieter in the hallway around this classroom so it doesn’t break the immersion.”
“You think about that kinda stuff when you walk around? You should probably focus on havin’ fun.” “That is how I have fun.”
“Yeah... It is fun.”
Geniuses were a different breed, I swear. But I kept the thought to myself. It was almost perverse how Ozu could pick up on and analyze the slight changes in sound to a technical level while walking around. Meanwhile, Otoi-san’s talents and tastes were outstanding—the way she managed the sound production for the festival to the same standard as a first-rate theme park.
“That suits you, by the way,” I said.
“What, this?” Otoi-san lifted up the black veil that was hanging down from her hood. She was wearing a loose outfit and a necklace with large (obviously fake) gems the size of meatballs embedded in it. She looked like she belonged in a fantasy world: a suspicious fortune-teller who dwelled in gloomy alleyways and gave the heroes advice on where to go next. It matched perfectly with Otoi-san’s lack of worldly sense.
“I’m surprised how well made it is too. I didn’t go to see anything last year, so I never knew how much quality you could find in a school festival.”
“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I think there’s always been a lotta work put into the festival, but this year’s ’specially good.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. And it’s your fault, Aki.”
“Huh?”
How could it be my fault? I was busy losing my mind over the Queen Nevermore contest this year, and last year I hadn’t done anything. I didn’t see how I could’ve contributed anything to the festival as a whole.
Otoi-san drew a circle in the air with her finger. “It was, y’know... You helped out the drama club, right?”
“I did, yeah, but what’s that got to do with anything?”
“’Cause the drama club’s performance’s quality went way up, some of the students who went to see them got super motivated in their own creative spheres.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Obviously, Kageishi and the club’ve been workin’ hard since they won the fair, but Kohinata and you inspired a ton of others too.”
“Me and Iroha? Sure, we filled in on stage, but...”
It was still fresh in my mind how, on the day of the drama fair’s preliminary round, I stood in to play the lead role for Midori, who had gotten caught up in a ton of trouble on her way to the fair and couldn’t make it.
Standing up on stage in front of everyone didn’t suit me. Looking back on it made me cringe. Even though I had given an average performance, inferior wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how I compared to Iroha, who had shone like the brightest star. That was how I saw it, anyway.
“It’s ’cause Kohinata was so brilliant that she inspired loadsa people. And you’re the one who brought that light outta her. Like, you’re the only one who can make her shine so bright. I never get jealous, but whenever I think of yer performance, I feel something kinda like jealousy.”
“I’m the ‘only’ one? I think you could probably put her with any half-decent actor and get the same result. What about Midori-san? She’s come a long way.”
“Kohinata’s turnin’ into a ton of different girls right now, ain’t she?”
“Huh? I think I missed a step in the conversation. But yeah, you’re right. She pulls it off so well, it’s uncanny.”
“And who did she turn into back then?”
“Um, the part she was playing?”
Otoi-san was talking about the play and who Iroha “turned into” on stage, right? “Y’think so? I dunno much ’bout this kinda stuff, but I’ve heard there’s more to drama than just actin’ out a role. You heard that one?”
“I think I saw some famous actor say that on TV. Oh, uh, sorry for interrupting.”
It was Ozu who had answered Otoi-san’s question.
“No, it’s fine. I’m kinda interested—could you tell me more?”
Ozu nodded. “The actor was famous for his supporting roles. It was something like...you don’t just act out a role, you let that role permeate you and draw out a different side of yourself you weren’t aware of.” “Yeah, that. Uh, so Ozu—” Otoi-san began.
“It’s okay. He already knows about Iroha,” I said quickly, sensing what her glance meant. “’Kay, I won’t hold back then. Iroha’s a super good actor, and she can pull off any role, but the problem comes when ya tryna see what’s underneath. I dunno, it’s like she doesn’t wanna be herself or whatever.” “Yeah.”
Iroha had several different masks depending on who she was trying to protect. And now she had added a new mask to the equation, to completely hide away her true comfor—annoying self that she only used to show to me. When she acted, she totally transformed into her role. You could pull back the layers, but Iroha herself would be nowhere to be found—unless we were talking about Kokuryuuin Kugetsu.
That was why I wanted to take away her mask completely, and encourage her to show her true colors a bit more. I wanted to make progress in my direction of her, so I was doing the dumb thing and competing against her in the Queen Nevermore contest.
It seemed like Otoi-san was saying that Iroha had been herself when we acted at the Drama Fair together, which didn’t make sense.
“How was that character anything like Iroha?”
“Trust you not to notice, Aki. Not like I’m gonna tell you.”
“Huh?”
“Me neither.”
“You know the answer too, Ozu? Come on, guys! What are you trying to tell me?” “I could tell you, but I kinda feel like there’s no point unless you figure it out for yourself. I think you’ve been getting a little closer to the answer recently too.”
I fell silent, but I thought I knew what they were getting at.
The heroine in that play—Iroha—poured her emotions out to the protagonist. What if she hadn’t been talking to this fictional protagonist, but to me?
Jeez, talk about narcissism. If Iroha knew what I’d just been thinking, she’d tease me for being a pathetic virgin. Of course, I couldn’t deny the slim possibility that Iroha liked me, but... Ugh. My thoughts were getting so tangled up that my phrasing was starting to sound weird.
Ozu laughed. “Look, his brain’s overheating like it’s a PC. I can practically hear the fans whirring at hyper speed.”
“Whatevs. Anyway, Aki, why don’tcha reel the whole producer thing in a little and just spend time with Kohinata like a regular guy?”
“But I made her a promise. A promise as her producer.”
“Okay, fine. This is too much of a pain. Lemme just do your fortune. C’mon, gimme your hand.” “Wh— Hey!”
Otoi-san, who apparently had suddenly remembered she was supposed to be a diviner, grabbed my hand.
Her hands were on the cooler side, smooth and firm like a doll’s. A voice in my head told me that her hands were the opposite of Sasara’s. Another voice—more cynical, and more like a teenage boy’s— pointed out that I’d been getting touched by girls a lot recently.
“’Kay, here goes.”
I was expecting a palm reading, but then I felt a weight settling in my hand. A crystal ball, for some reason.
“Ummmmm... I can see it...”
“If you’re using a crystal ball, why’re you making me hold it?!”
“It’s too much of a pain to hold it myself. Just bring it up to my eye level.”
“There’s laziness, and then there’s this.”
“I see it... I see it...”
“Ha. This seems about as legit as ozone therapy.” I let out a dry laugh.
Otoi-san ignored me, narrowing her sleepy eyes slightly as they reflected the light of the ball, and she hummed profoundly.
“The ball says...if you wanna find your happiness...go to the first-year classrooms... Class...uh...I forget which one...but...Iroha’s class. She’s on duty now, just before she has to get ready for the Queen Nevermore contest.”
“I feel like this fortune is meant to benefit you more than me.”
“Feel free to keep complainin’, but I hope you’ve got somewhere and someone else to help you with your recordings.”
“I’m sorry! Please forgive me! I’ll do anything!” I was on the floor and bowing in seconds. Otoi-san really couldn’t let a joke like that slide? She was way too powerful.
Watching our exchange, Ozu could no longer hold in his laughter. “Even you’ll bow down to Otoi-san, huh?”
“I know. It’s painful.”
“I agree with her, though. You should go see Iroha. I think her class was doing a maid café. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”
“Sure. But you’re coming with—”
“Nah, she’ll die of embarrassment if I show up. You still wanna try and talk your way out of this?” “No...”
I knew Iroha was fond of me. I just wasn’t as confident as these two that her feelings for me were romantic. I could find out, but it wasn’t a risk I could take right now. And assuming she did like me in that way, I doubted Iroha would want me to.
We shared the same dream. I believed that much. Or maybe I just wanted to.
Regardless of the truth, it was a senpai’s duty to go see what his kouhai had prepared for the culture festival, if that was what she was hoping for.
“I’ll go then,” Ozu said.
“See ya.”
“Have fun. I’ll see you for our dance tonight.”
“Hey, since when were you so confident? I mean, I know you’ll probably win, but still.” “Who knows?” Ozu shrugged.
His response did nothing to dispel the sliver of doubt in my mind, but I didn’t really have the time to worry about it. I needed to get ready for the contest soon.
“You look like you’re hatching some kinda plan,” I said. “But either way, at least I know I’m going to win. You’d best prepare yourself for that dance!”
With that, I jogged from the room and left Ozu and Otoi-san behind. I pulled my phone out to check the time. There was plenty of time to get ready. I was a participant, so I knew my timings perfectly. To be honest, I wasn’t really sure how I was supposed to act when I went to Iroha’s maid café. I wasn’t sure how she liked me, and I didn’t really understand my own feelings either. I didn’t even know what I was supposed to talk to her about at this café.
But she was my cute little kouhai. I wouldn’t disappoint her, you know?
***
I already knew where the classroom I wanted was. I wasn’t Iroha’s official stalker for nothing. My path was properly guided by signs and posters, exactly how I would have laid them out myself. I made it right there without getting lost.
How would Iroha act when she saw me? Since her classmates were there, maybe she’d be a perfectly professional and polite English maid. Or maybe she’d secretly go the annoying route, while making sure no one noticed. Or, she might follow the recent pattern of acting like someone we knew.
Would she be a cold maid like Mashiro? An older, sadistic maid like Sumire (in teacher mode)? A low energy maid like Otoi-san? Or an idol-maid-hybrid like Canary? There were a lot of unique and idiosyncratic personalities among our acquaintances, so whoever she picked, it was going to be worth seeing. It might even be good enough to base a new Koyagi character on.
I passed the sign promising an authentic English tearoom and headed on into the classroom. Half of the classroom was dedicated to customer seating, while the other half was the kitchen (read: probably just a coffee machine and microwave), hidden behind a dark curtain.
Iroha, the girl I was after, was by the entrance, and I wasn’t sure she’d noticed me until she opened her mouth.
“Welcome. Master.”
“Great. Midori-san when she’s acting.”
All optimism was lost when she gave me a monotone greeting. It vaguely occurred to me that Iroha was cherry-picking in the cruelest way too. After going through some hellish training, Midori’s acting ability should have been decent now—or at least, she didn’t read her lines in monotone anymore. Though maybe I was being a little harsh, since Iroha was just recreating the most memorable parts of Midori’s character.
“Oh, Ooboshi-kun. What do you want?” Iroha asked, in the same grouchy way Midori would, holding a silver tray under one arm. The inflection had returned to her voice too. Apparently, when she was acting like a maid, she was copying Midori’s acting, but when she wasn’t in maid mode, she was copying Midori as she normally was. Talk about complicated.
“I was just wondering what a genuine English tearoom looked like.”
“Oh. I’ll show you to your seat then. Just make sure you follow the rules while you drink your coffee. All right? Don’t even think any dirty thoughts about these maids!”
“I would never. By the way, you’re pulling off Midori perfectly.”
Her words could have been spoken by Midori herself. Iroha and Midori’s personalities were completely different on the outside, but they both loved drama, so maybe they were similar in some ways, deep down.
Iroha had a strong interest in entertainment and acting, but she had learned not to show it openly. Midori was... What was she? You know...an honor student, yet a closet pervert intimately knowledgeable about all things lewd. Or maybe she was just a bit of an airhead.
Midori—I mean, Iroha—led me to a seat by the window. The male customers around us looked jealous that I got to be served by Iroha. My friend’s little sister was always the center of attention in her class anyway, so it was no surprise that her maid form was incredibly popular too.
In line with the café’s theme, she was of course wearing a traditional English maid outfit, which was drawing gazes from customers around the room. The skirt was long enough to cover her ankles. A white apron covered her stomach and shoulders. She wore a black dress that peeked out from below the apron and around her bust. Her ample chest pushed up the buttons of that dress from behind, so while she looked prim and proper to start with, there was a bolt of eroticism that— Ah! I gotta stop. Anyway, I understood why the male patrons were looking at her. That’s all.
“Here you are.”
“Th-Thanks.”
I sat down in the chair she pulled out for me.
Iroha stood gracefully beside me, like a real maid waiting on her master. “I-I’m attending this table, so if you have an order or request, please let me know. I-I’ll do anything, as long as it’s nothing sexual!” “You didn’t have to specify that last part.”
If sexual stuff were allowed, this class would be in a lot of trouble.
“So you each have assigned tables?” I asked.
“Yes. The rule is that the maid who sees you to your table will then attend to you. You can request a certain maid if you want, but you have to ask for that. It’s a little like how call girls operate.” “Even your examples sound like Midori-san’s.” I was suddenly struck with a thought. “I’m surprised you were free, though. You’re pretty popular; I would’ve thought you’d already been nabbed by some other table.”
The next second, Iroha’s cheeks were aflame, and she was leaning forward aggressively. “Wh— I-It’s not what you think! I definitely wasn’t making sure I was free just in case you came to see me, Sen— Ooboshi-kun!”
“Okay, I believe you. It’s not like you would’ve gained anything by waiting for me either.” I’ll say it again, but she was a perfect copy of Midori. The face was the one I saw in my apartment every day, belonging to my friend’s little sister—by whom I mean Iroha, of course—but her expression was totally Midori’s. So much so that for a second I mistook her for Midori. Her words just now were exactly like— Wait a minute.
Something felt off. Had she almost said “Senpai” just now? Was that because she was trying to replicate Midori’s tsundere-ness, or was it a slip of the tongue from Iroha herself that she quickly amended? I guess it didn’t really matter either way, but I also felt like the answer was a window into a deep section of Iroha’s heart itself.
A fancy leather-bound menu suddenly landed on the table in front of me with a thump, interrupting my thoughts.
“Feel free to order. I recommend the Mexican drip coffee and the omurice—b-but the omurice doesn’t come with the whole lovey-dovey moe-moe-kyun maid thing, okay?!”
“I wouldn’t want it to. But yeah, I’ll go for those two.”
The earlier conundrum had me sifting for clues, but now I decided I should just drop it and enjoy Iroha’s service. As a good senpai, it was my duty to watch over my kouhai as she worked hard. Iroha gave a courteous bow before disappearing behind the black curtain. I watched her go with a
vague sense that something was missing.
Iroha. Maid. The combination somehow felt lacking. She was acting as a normal honor student. I had a sense that this wasn’t what I’d wanted to see from her. I realize Midori wasn’t exactly “normal,” but that wasn’t my point.
I wanted to see Iroha like she usually was as a maid.
It wasn’t long before she returned with a tray bearing a microwave-made omurice (on a fancy plate, making it look tastier than you’d think) and a coffee.
By the way, it did cross my mind to point out that they should have been serving tea instead of coffee if this was an “authentic” English tearoom. However, I’d heard that there were a surprisingly large number of English people who preferred coffee to tea, and to be so nitpicky over a school festival was the opposite of intelligent, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Here you are.” Iroha placed a cup in front of me.
I gazed at the steaming black liquid before looking up at her. “Could I order something quick?” “You’re already thinking of your next order? Fine, but you do know that ordering too much and leaving leftovers is rude, don’t you?”
“You don’t need to worry about that. I’m not looking to order food or coffee.”
“What?” Iroha stared at me, leaving her hand with the plate of omurice hovering in the air. “You can be subtle about it so the other customers don’t notice if you want—but would you mind serving me like Iroha, not Midori?”
Iroha flinched.
“I get that I’m being selfish. And I realize I should have more important things to worry about with the Queen Nevermore contest right around the corner. The contest you’re betting your true self on. It’s just that, this whole café is the result of my kouhai’s hard work. As your senpai, I want to experience it with both of us as our normal selves.”
I told her exactly how I felt.
Her cheeks red, Iroha tried to frown, just like Midori would. But then she let out a tiny sigh. “You love me too much, Senpai.”
“I dunno about that, but I do care about you. Though it pains me to admit it.”
“Huh. Well, if you insist, I guess I can grant your request for a little bit.” Iroha pouted, before casting her gaze across the room to check if any of her classmates were watching. The moment she confirmed none of them were, her face twisted into an annoying grin. “You sure are a greedy master, huh? Jeez, what a pain!”
That was it!
The annoying smile that rubbed me the wrong way and rattled my bones! That charming smile belonged to the real Iroha, and she hadn’t smiled like that in so long. Nostalgic tingles ran up my spine. Iroha brought her face close to mine, split open the soft omurice with a spoon, and brought the melty, steaming mixture to my mouth.
It was just freezer food, so why did it look so tasty? Well, freezer food nowadays tasted way better than the old products and their lingering stigma. It could actually be pretty delicious, apparently. “Now, say ‘aah,’ Master. But, letting me feed you like a small animal means accepting your defeat. It means you’re a pathetic little boy, and I’m your babysitter!”
“I want a redo.”
“What?”
“You’re forcing the annoying too much. Be more natural, like you always are!”
“You don’t think that’s asking too much?!”
I did, actually. The situation was unnatural enough as it was, so asking her to act natural was a bit of a stretch.
“Couldn’t you wait till we get home for that kinda thing?”
“I guess, yeah. Till then, just be as annoying as you can.”
“Okay.” Iroha sighed. “Gosh, you’re so selfish, Senpai. Here. Have this.”
Iroha forced the spoon into the tiny gap between my closed lips.
“Pwah! Hey, that’s hot!” I gasped, feeling the ketchup cling to my lips.
“See, now you got clown lips just ’cause you wouldn’t open up. I bet you like to hang out in sewers and catch little boys in yellow coats!”
“Stop making references to classic horror movies. You just want me to open my mouth, right?” I closed my eyes and opened my mouth a little impatiently.
I’d done it out of embarrassment, but cutting off my vision was a bad idea. Instant regret. Even if they weren’t paying attention, there were other guests and students here. Without my sight, all I had was my hearing, and the conversations and chattering of the other people in the room sounded even clearer, making my anxiety that Iroha might be seen acting like this rocket.
I couldn’t see Iroha’s face either. Was she giggling at me right now? I could see it... It was pretty cute. I was thinking about her annoying face in the darkness, when suddenly—
“Mmgh!”
I found my mouth stuffed with omurice. I chewed desperately, having no other option with the way it was mercilessly forced through my lips. I didn’t even have time to notice how much more pleasant the tastes and textures of freezer food had become lately, as I immediately grabbed the glass of water on the table, and swallowed the deliciousness down in one go.
“Wh-What was that all about?!” I gasped.
“Did you think I was gonna be gentle or something? You thought you could get away with being conveniently lovey-dovey with me when you’re ignoring how I feel and competing against me for Queen Nevermore? Too bad! Even I have my limits, dumbass!”
“Ugh. You’re a hundred percent right.”
“Yeah, so feel bad about it! Hmph. You’re always just doing whatever you want with people, and then you show up with some line that’s gonna make my heart melt? That’s not fair!”
“What was that?”
The second half of what she said was so quiet I didn’t catch it.
“Nice original response there, Senpai! I’m thrilled!”
“What’s with the sarcasm? I just didn’t hear what you said. All you had to do was repeat yourself!” “I’m not repeating myself! Not in a billion years!”
“Now I know whatever you just said is important! I’m a producer who’s absorbed countless games and manga over the years. Don’t underestimate me! I know hundreds of examples where this kinda thing creates devastating misunderstandings if you leave them alone.”
“I’m not telling! I hope those misunderstandings do devastate you.”
“You’re so... Look, I’m used to being criticized and compared to blank-slate romantic comedy protagonists, but heroines have a responsibility to talk so that people can hear them, and repeat themselves if they can’t!”
“Ooh, so it’s the girl’s fault, is it?! Way to show me just how majorly uncool you are! You clearly don’t understand girls one tiny bit...”
“You’re doing it again! I couldn’t hear that last part.”
“Why don’t you come back when you’ve cranked your hearing ability up three thousand percent?!” It was a constant back and forth. Anything I said, she’d have a comeback ready. I didn’t want to fight with her like this. Not here.
I guess there was no way two countries at war could ever go through a temporary truce. More so when one side was Iroha. A part of me was relieved that I could speak to her like this—to Iroha, and not some other girl she was pretending to be.
We were being too loud; I realized then that people were starting to look our way. Personally, I was happy for Iroha’s annoying nature to be exposed to the masses, but she had other ideas. “You have ketchup on your mouth, master,” she said sweetly.
I knew she was going to rein it all in when other people were watching.
“I’ll wipe it off for you.”
“Th-Thanks.” I could do nothing but let her wipe my mouth with a napkin.
“I’m so jealous...”
“Imagine getting your mouth wiped clean by a sweet, innocent maid. Talk about follow-through after the meal. She’s got the mentality of a martial artist and the manners of an English lady! The best of both cultures!”
“Iroha-chan as a Victorian maid... She’s the second coming of art nouveau! This is what modernism is all about!”
Envious comments came one after the other, and I could hear the voices of other male guests more clearly than before. They loved Iroha in her honor student form. Not one of them understood. She might only have been able to transform three more times before she was stuck forever!
Iroha seemed to hear them too. She changed her position so that no one could see the provocative look on her face.
“Hear that, Senpai? People love me when I act all innocent.”
“They’ll love you a hundred times more if you act annoying.”
“Fine, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna lose to someone like you!”
“We’ll see about that when I rip that innocent mask off your face in two hours’ time. I hope you’re ready.”
“It’s not gonna take that long.”
“What?”
“I’m taking it off now. There’s a ton of them I still want to try. So...” Iroha took a deep breath and let it go again. Her eyes changed size, as though she’d activated some sort of switch, and, like she was possessed, Iroha opened her mouth. “If. There. Is. Anything. Else. I. Can. Do. For. You. Please. Let. Me. Know. Master.”
“That again?”
She was back to where she started. Wonderful.
Midori’s monotonous voice seemed to sap the energy from my bones. As I sipped my coffee, I found myself worrying, just slightly, whether I could even keep up my resolve to face Iroha in the Queen Nevermore contest.
***
The fourth floor of the arts and science block. The barricade of desks in front of No-Man’s Land was...not there. The desks had been neatly stacked away to one side of the corridor, where the floor lay polished and open. It was just an empty space. Yet despite the ongoing festival, something in the air seemed to set it apart from the floors below, like there was an otherworldly hush.
After having my energy sapped by Iroha and her monotones, I needed to head for the dressing room to prepare for the Queen Nevermore contest. That dressing room was—surprisingly—the drama club’s room.
The other contestants for Queen Nevermore were all girls, so obviously I couldn’t share a dressing room with them. In her position as committee chair, Midori had personally arranged a private room for me.
“Oh, hey, you’re already here,” I said.
There was already someone in the room when I got there. Two someones, in fact. “Ah! You’re a little early. I’m glad to see you’ve got great timekeeping skills!” Midori gave me a satisfied nod.
It looked like she had been engaged in a fun conversation before I got there. Her conversation partner wore a suit that hugged her curvaceous body; she was the coolest, most beautiful teacher in our school: Kageishi Sumire.
“Nice to see you, Ooboshi-kun.”
“What is my teacher doing here?!”
“What is that, the title of a new manga?”
“Manga?” Midori said. “Sumire, I thought you weren’t interested in forms of entertainment like manga, which have a wide-ranging appeal and—”
“It’s just that I noticed the manga my students were reading had titles like that and I realized that it must be a new trend but it isn’t as though I downloaded an entire ebook collection of a series with slightly sexual overtones and a great story to enjoy in a casual manner,” Sumire said in a single breath. “Oh, I see! That makes sense. I know you would never read manga, Sumire!”
“That’s right. Teaching is my sole passion in life.”
“I know! It’s completely acceptable for faculty to enjoy the festival today, and yet you dealt with the permission to get this room and you even agreed to supervise. Are you sure you’re not working too hard, Sumire? Be sure to take breaks once in a while!”
Sumire giggled. “You’re too kind, Midori. But perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to take a long vacation once things have settled down a bit.”
Said the woman who’d spent so much of her summer vacation playing through the Grand Fantasy 7 remake. And I was sure this “supervision” she’d agreed to came from somewhere less than pure. I placed a hand on her shoulder. She took the signal and we moved away from Midori. I ignored Midori shooting me a peeved look, instead whispering into her sister’s ear.
“You haven’t told Midori-san about Murasaki Shikibu-sensei yet? Your granddad knows, and your sister attends the same school you teach at. Don’t you think it’d be a good idea to spit it out already?” “O-Obviously I can’t do that! D’you know how much Midori-chan respects me?! Plus, she gets these ideas in her head... What if she can’t face reality? I don’t even wanna think about what might happen!” “All I’m saying is that this is a ticking time bomb.”
I wish I could say more than that, but I had my own fair share of similar stuff coming back to bite me, and I didn’t want to be a hypocrite. At least I could give some objective advice as an outsider. “And what’s all this stuff about teaching being your sole passion? You’re just here to see me cross dress.”
“Yup!”
“Don’t agree, moron.”
“Ow! Just because Midori-chan can’t see us from this angle doesn’t mean I deserve to be ribbed!” “Those weren’t your ribs. It was your solar plexus.”
“Who even cares? Wait! Stop that, it’s really effective! I don’t want Midori-chan to see me squirming in pain!” Sumire was trembling and biting her lip as though on the verge of collapse, but she was still managing to keep her ironclad teacher’s face on.
Midori was there behind us to intervene. “Hey, don’t you think you’re a little too close? And— And what’s ‘ribbed’? D-D-Don’t tell me you’re doing something dirty?!”
“You need to get your ears and brain checked if that’s the first thing you think of. She meant ‘getting hit in the ribs,’” I said, stepping away from Sumire like nothing had happened. “Stop getting worked up over every little thing. I was just giving your sister some stimulation to her pressure points to alleviate her exhaustion.”
“Oh. I see. I apologize. It was just a pressure point...”
“Yeah. As if I’d ever do anything dirty like that,” I said. “It was all nice and normal.” “Yes, stimulating pressure points is completely...” Midori paused. “Wait! Wait, wait, wait. Don’t talk like that’s normal to try and manipulate me. Because I will not be fooled! Attacking someone else’s pressure points in the middle of school is voyeurism!”
“Actually, I don’t think it is. At least throw a ‘practically’ in there.”
“Ah, of course,” Midori said. “It’s foolish to equate two things just because they have one point in common. Wait! Wait. Why are we arguing about that? That’s not the problem here!” “Maybe not, but if you would just think of it in reverse... If that was the problem, then you have to ask, why has humanity failed to bring about world peace for so long?”
“That’s a difficult one. To start with, we need to define what world peace means and— Aaargh! I told you that’s not what we’re talking about! Stop changing the subject like that. I’m going to lose my mind!” Midori grabbed her head and squirmed like she was trying to resist some kind of brainwashing magic.
She was so smart that she could keep up with a conversation that jumped from one topic to another— and she was suffering for it. Poor girl.
I felt bad for her, but if she was going to carry on making insinuations about my relationship with Sumire, I was ready to keep it up until she forgot what had started this in the first place. Hopefully she
was prepared for that.
“What are you guys doing?”
I turned around only to see Tomosaka Sasara grimacing at us, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Midori writhing in the middle of the classroom.
I gave her a reassuring thumbs-up. “Messing with Midori-san.”
“Ew...”
Damn, she looked seriously disgusted. I wanted to come up with a more sophisticated expression, but it wasn’t something that teenagers who only cared about romance and being popular were likely to understand with their sub-chimpanzee levels of comprehension, so “messing with” it was.
“Kageishi Midori-senpai, right? I heard she was top of the second year and chair of the Nevermore Committee, so I thought she’d be really impressive...but I guess she’s just a weirdo.” “Ack!”
It was a direct hit through her skull.
What could I say? Sasara was completely right.
“Also, how come the entrance to this floor is so gross? I mean, I’ve heard the rumors, but I just can’t believe the school hasn’t done anything about it! What are they thinking?”
“We get it, the school lacks common sense.” The words I’d been thinking this whole time came out of my mouth before I could stop them.
I had the exact same thought as her so many times myself, only I’d held it in every time. That was holy ground she was trampling with those dirty feet of hers—I had to say something.
Pointing out absurdities was my job. Sasara was the kind to create those absurdities, and I’d be grateful if she could just stick to that, please.
“Oh, and I see you’re fooling around with girls apart from Kohinata Iroha and that pale girl?” “‘Fooling around’? No, Midori-san is different.”
“Hmm...” Sasara grumbled.
“Wh-Wh-What?! What are you staring at me for?!” Midori cried.
“You’re in love with this guy, right?”
“S-S-Stop spouting nonsense! Wh-Where’s your evidence?!”
“All that stuttering.”
“Eep!”
“Well, I guess I could be wrong, but you seem like a cute enough girl, Kageishi-senpai. I swear, though, how come this guy’s so popular with the girls? He’s just so average.”
“You can stop being rude now. It’s obvious that your false assumptions are making Midori-san uncomfortable, so just drop it.”
“False assumptions? What? Try looking in the mirror—and then look at Kageishi-senpai, because she’s in love no matter how you slice it. Literally no one wants to see you enter Queen Nevermore, but she makes an exception and lets you anyway, then she even reserves you a special room to do your makeup, and then accompanies you there. There’s no way she’d do that if she weren’t in love with you! Also, how dense have you gotta be not to realize that when—”
“That’s enough, Sasara-san.” I’d never seen Sumire glare at anyone with such authority before. It seemed to have a real effect on Sasara, as she started to defend herself. “Um, uh... Don’t get me wrong! I’m not trying to insult him, I’m just trying to open his eyes to the truth—” “I’m not interested in what you’re trying to do. I just don’t need you adding more rivals to the mix, for the sake of Mashi—ahem—my friend.”
“Huh? What do you mean by ‘rivals’? Are you saying this guy is even more popular than—” “There’s nothing more pathetic than being distracted from your original goal by a fleeting curiosity. What have you come to this classroom for?”
“Ah! That’s right. I don’t have time to waste chatting about dumb stuff! I gotta do my own prep too, so I gotta get started on your makeup right away!”
With that, Sumire had Sasara back on the straight and narrow. She wasn’t like Midori, who was so quick-witted that she just went along with any change in conversation and refused to admit that change had even happened. No, Sasara was simple. I wasn’t saying that was a bad thing. It was the opposite; there was a kind of honesty to it.
Sasara may have been second in her year, but compared to Midori—the queen of all honor students who got perfect scores in every subject—she was as average as the rest of us. Maybe it was only natural that she voiced the exact same thoughts as me.
Maybe because I felt guilty that Midori’s relationship with me was under scrutiny when she had no interest in me at all, or maybe it was nothing deeper than that getting teased was annoying, but either way I was grateful to Sumire for putting an end to it. Thanks, Shikibu.
The drama club room was well-equipped, with chairs and motivational mirrors. There was also a side table with wheels. None of it was exactly first class, but it was more than enough for a high school beauty pageant.
The girl doing up my face in that room was undoubtedly a makeup master. It was probably way easier when your field meant you could pick around eighty percent of your tools.
“You really have been keeping up the skin care routine every single day, huh? Impressive.” “You can tell?”
“Yeah, just by touching you. You’d be surprised how many girls give up on the skin care routines I recommend to them after, like, three days. When I said ‘impressive,’ I meant it.”
“Eh, sticking to things is about all I’m good at.”
“That’s hilarious. You’d make a good monk.”
Her metaphor sounded great on the surface, but a little thought showed it wasn’t that great. Meanwhile, she’d started smearing various cosmetics over my face. Her hands moved skillfully even while we chatted. Her metaphors may not have been great, but her makeup skills were, of course, phenomenal.
After that, I was stripped of my clothes, changed into my Queen Nevermore outfit, and then the finishing touches were put on my face. Somewhere along the way I noticed myself gradually undergoing a transformation in the mirror.
I didn’t know when, but at some point, I must have closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. “Hey, I’m done. Open your eyes and check the mirror. Just don’t fall in love with yourself, ’kay?” “R-Right... Wh—!”
Sasara’s voice roused me from my sleep. I opened my eyes as instructed, and there I saw her: A drop-dead gorgeous girl.
“Is this...really the new me?”
There was a graceful fairy in the mirror. A goddess of beauty who belonged beside a lake. An ethereal maiden who lived deep in the forest. Makigai Namako-sensei would probably compare her to a clione dancing elegantly through the deep sea.
My regular dark hair had been replaced with a completely natural-looking long, black wig. My dress combined cool threads of black, purple, and blue, like something a witch would wear. But my clothes and hair didn’t really matter. There was never anything stopping me from buying the best quality items I could.
It was my face. My face. Holy crap, my face. And my body.
My jawline was smoothed out, my eyebrows filled in, my nose brought inwards, and even the shape of my eyes had been altered with tape. And yet, from the finished product, nobody would know that any of my features had been done up in this way. The only way I can express what I’m trying to say is: I was a freaking beautiful girl.
“This is... Oh my God.” Sasara almost sounded like she’d made a grave mistake.
“O-O-Ooboshi-kun! You’re a g-g-girl!” Meanwhile, Midori sounded like a washing machine vibrating on its highest setting.
I couldn’t blame them for having such powerful reactions. My beauty was in more than just my face. I looked so slender, I couldn’t help but wonder where my broad shoulders and muscles had gone. My chest held a tasteful level of volume. The work of stuffing, of course. Yet nothing was exposed. I looked like the purest girl who ever lived. My dress covered my legs, chest, and arms, allowing any onlooking guy to
draw whatever fantastical conclusions he wanted to.
That...wasn’t what I was going for, though—I just needed something to hide my masculine frame, and this was the dress I ended up choosing. I needed something that would trick every guy out there and have them feeding out of the palm of my hand. I couldn’t let anyone know that I was actually a guy, except for the few people who were in on it.
Rest assured, I had checked beforehand that the swimsuit round had been well and truly axed from this year’s program. I never thought that Midori’s love of morals would be to my advantage. She had insisted that anything “dirty” was forbidden.
I was sure that some of the male students would be disappointed, but the committee had voted on it. Apparently only Otoi-san had abstained, not caring either way. Anyone opposing the move openly would have looked like a pervert, so the vote was pretty much unanimous. The whole thing was just a topic for gossip really, and there wasn’t much worth in digging too deeply into it.
“Ooboshi-kun! Could I take a photo please? Just one! I promise I won’t upload it to the internet!” Midori already had her phone out, and her breathing was ragged.
“I don’t mind. Though you’re making it sound like you’re definitely going to be spreading it around for profit.”
Those bloodshot eyes of hers were honestly terrifying. Perhaps this was my first experience of the awkwardness of being lusted after by a girl.
“You look so wonderful dressed as a girl! You’re totally gorgeous!”
“You’re exaggerating. Though I gotta admit, I do think I look objectively beautiful...” There were several rapid clicks as Midori took her “one” photo of me.
Meanwhile, Sasara had gone pale, and she was muttering under her breath. “Crap, I shouldn’t have tried so hard... I think he might even be cuter than me...”
“Thanks, Tomosaka. I’m ready to win against Iroha now—and you, of course.”
“Grk!”
We were going up against each other in the contest, and yet she’d used the full extent of her talent to turn me into a beautiful girl—so I thanked her. She could have just done a half-assed job and made me look just good enough for me not to complain. But she didn’t, and that was because of her overwhelming pride in all things beauty.
She was a queen, a goddess of all things fashion, photography, and makeup, descended down upon social media as an example to follow for all girls. That wasn’t the sort of person who was dishonest in their work.
Tomosaka Sasara was a regular girl, and I might even go so far as to call her a normie, considering her anti-geek views. But she was also an exemplary creative soul.
“Don’t get too full of yourself! Just ’cause I gave you a sprinkling of innocent mystery doesn’t mean
you have a chance against me! I haven’t even finished getting ready yet. There’s no way I’m ever, ever, ever gonna lose against you!” After thrusting her finger in my face, Sasara claimed the final word and zoomed out of the room.
The attitude suited her, I thought. And she had the same rough charms and elegance you might find in a rural girl surviving on a diet of quartz, for example.
Okay, so that was a bit of a joke, but I really did think she could make a good friend for Iroha. They were very much alike. Maybe I should see if I could get them to see eye to eye at some point. Wait. Sumire’s been awfully quiet ever since my makeup was finished...
There was no denying that my transformation was stunning. It wouldn’t have surprised me if she had transformed into a savage beast of a geek (read: Murasaki Shikibu-sensei), but I guess she was just trying to hold herself back because Midori was here?
I turned to Sumire to check.
She was in full-on Venomous Queen mode, with her brows knit tightly together, and a stern expression on her face.
“Sumire-sensei?”
There was no response.
“Hello?”
Still no response. Not a twitch in her expression; not even from her fingertips.
I had a horrible feeling I knew what this was.
“She passed out...while standing?!”
***
“I always thought Midori-san was fighting the curse of her natural urges to live out her life as an honor student, but I guess she was just a dirty old man all along.”
“Hold it right there, Ozu. I’m gonna feel sorry for her if you keep talking like that.”
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