Let me clarify something first: My name is Komori Tsubasa, and I am absolutely not a “bat.”
The latter is what you’d call a nickname—though in this era where elementary schools ban such labels, it’s undeniably a derogatory term.
This, too, was collateral damage from infamy. Shortly after enrolling last year, rumors spread like wildfire:
[Some freshman named Komori Tsubasa is chummy with the stunningly beautiful Saiin Sakuya.]
The gossip ran rampant, and suddenly, I was under scrutiny. “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop”—I understood their boredom craved immoral scandal. But as someone whose feet grew from purity itself, I offered no scoop, not even a whiff of romance.
Ironically, that only stoked their frenzy. Why would an unremarkable guy—no standout looks, no elite pedigree—hold the attention of such a bewitching beauty? Driven by obsession, they eventually concluded:
[Ah, to Saiin Sakuya, he’s less a childhood friend and more like a pet!]
Their imaginations, wilder than tabloid fodder, crowned me as Saku-senpai’s servant. Taking cues from a certain fighting game’s succubus and her minions, they dubbed me Bat, splashing the nickname across the school until it stuck.
TLNOTE : Komori means Bat
(Okay, the “splashing” part might be an exaggeration.)
And so, I was branded the shameful familiar of a succubus—though,
“Some guys even envy me for it… this country’s terrifying.”
My mutter carried through the chilly hallway.
After crossing from the classroom building via a breezeway and stairs, I reached the third floor of the special wing.
Below, cherry blossom petals carpeted the path where sports clubs waved flags and handed out flyers to freshmen. Recruiters and recruits alike glittered—rose-colored youth in full bloom. Regretting my exclusion from that world would be missing the point.
“I never put in the effort to shine in the first place… Hm?”
Mumbling to myself, I arrived at the former Literature Club room—now repurposed—perched on the worst floor (top) and worst corner (far west) of the building.
“Saku-senpai, what are you doing—?”
“Oh, Tsubasa-kun.”
There she stood, black hair cascading down—Saku-senpai, the club’s de facto president, inexplicably planted outside the door instead of inside. “You’re late,” she chided, tossing me a sidelong glance that might’ve been seductive if not for her next words:
“My legs are as stiff as pole-vaulting poles from waiting!”
“Regular ‘poles’ are fine, and you definitely didn’t wait that long.”
“Caught me. I just got here too. Heh, feels like a date meet-up, doesn’t it?”
Her playful laugh was endearing in a way that undermined her elegance.
Her uniform—a tight blazer accentuating her narrow waist, a short skirt highlighting long legs sheathed in black stockings—was standard, yet her model-like proportions and effortless grace refused to let her blend in.
If only her personality matched her looks.
“…Maybe if she were taxidermied?”
“Your psycho thoughts are leaking.”
“Pretend you didn’t hear that— Wait, what’s this?”
I leaned closer to inspect a sheet of paper taped to the frosted glass door.
“It was here when I arrived. How rude,” Saku-senpai huffed, puffing her cheeks childishly.
The reason?
“[To the two students utilizing the former Literature Club room: Based on last year’s activities, you have demonstrated no merit warranting continued use of this facility. Vacate promptly or submit an appeal with supporting documentation—] Huh.”
I read the bureaucratic text aloud, unfazed (“So it’s finally happened”), but the “club president” clearly disagreed.
“Shall we treat this as a declaration of war from the student council?”
“It’s just an administrative notice…”
“How dare they imply we spent every day here under the guise of ‘club activities’—sipping tea, playing darts, doing Pilates, hosting shitty movie nights, building Z○ids—indulging in disjointed nonsense!”
“That’s… objectively true. Can we even defend this?”
At least I occasionally read the leftover novels (the sole Literature Club element) or did homework. But Saku-senpai, who’d built and painted plastic models (“Why is there lacquer smell leaking from here?!”), was beyond redemption.
“Strange. How did outsiders find out?”
“You knew it’d be bad if they did? Wait—was it the paint fumes? Did they think we were huffing illegal chemicals?”
“Slander! All I did was paint König Wolf matte black—”
TLNOTE : https://theironbible.com/IndexZoids/KonigWolf.php
“Don’t paint it! Live with the default colors!”
My complaint missed the mark. Whether rotten oranges or broken windows, I was clearly poisoned too.
READ THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATION AT gadgetizedpanda.net
“Okay… this is mine, that’s Saku-senpai’s. Trash goes here, labeled books back to the library. The rest were here originally, so they count as school property.”
Without nostalgia, I packed up a year’s worth of clutter.
Spring wind gusted through the wide-open window, carrying a weirdly uplifting “moving to a new life” vibe—
“Hey, hey, hey, heeeeey!”
—which Saku-senpai shattered. Normally, she’d lounge smugly in the seat of honor,
but today, she flitted around me like a restless ghost, trailing wasted perfume.
“Why are you packing up so obediently?”
“The notice did say ‘vacate promptly.’”
“You’re just going to roll over?”
“Got another option? Here, take your weird wolf robot.”
“Ah! Don’t pinch the Dual Rifle! What if it falls?!”
“…My bad.”
If it’s that precious, enshrine it on an altar.
“I’ve always wondered… Tsubasa-kun, do you ever build models at home?”
Cradling the black wolf (originally white) like a pet bird, Saku-senpai eyed me with the concern of a mother watching her son’s bleak future.
“Aren’t you worried about becoming an adult who can’t even use an airbrush?”
“If I displayed anything, it’d be warships or castles.”
“Too niche. Is this a ‘gap moe’ play?”
“Says the JK who airbrushes Pla-model.”
We never aligned. Not then, not now, probably never. From comedians to egg seasoning, our tastes were fundamentally incompatible.
“…A whole year here, huh.”
“Why the sudden reminiscing?”
“We basically hijacked the Literature Club—down to its last member—with that whole [Let’s make it fun!] spiel. In hindsight, that was straight-up hostile takeover territory.”
“Call it the one brilliant move of your life?”
Faced with Saku-senpai, who shows not a hint of remorse, I develop a migraine. Originally, establishing a new club requires a minimum of five members, and the activities must undergo strict review. However, as a characteristic of our school, once a club is established, the management becomes quite lax afterward.
As long as the number of enrolled students doesn’t drop to zero, it won’t be disbanded, and apparently even the name and activities can be changed retroactively. It’s a system full of loopholes built on good faith, and it’s a miracle that no one has exploited it in the past. To think that this person would be the bad actor who could set that precedent.
“I guess this is how young people feel when they unwittingly get involved in shady part-time jobs.”
“Treating decent citizens like criminals, huh?”
“‘Decent’? Hardly. You just wanted a hidden hangout to kill time…”
“Half-right, I suppose.”
“At least try to defend yourself!”
“Wow. You sound like a girlfriend grilling me for cheating.”
Whether I denied or agreed, she’d get mad either way—predicting this reaction, my annoyance with her antics skyrocketed. But then, “Still, Tsubasa-kun?” Saku-senpai thrust a pointed finger at me, as if to block my counterattack.
“It’s true that I wanted to do something here with you. At least believe that much.”
“…………”
Honestly, that part—factoring in my circumstances back then, Saku-senpai’s personality, and all the contextual evidence—wasn’t something I ever really doubted.
The real issue lay in her motivation—or rather, her utter lack of moral restraint.
“I, too, initially expected this to be some noble, public-spirited endeavor. I was even prepared to lend my support for it… And yet?”
Perhaps sensing the resentment in my eyes, “U-ufu~?” Saku-senpai’s gaze began darting nervously.
“But in reality? Just a sloppy, lazy, utterly useless way to waste time.”
“W-well, you know… Like a sleeping lion! ‘I’ll get serious tomorrow’—that kinda thing…”
“And yet ‘tomorrow’ never came. Hence our current situation, no?”
“W-what’s gotten into you today, Tsubasa-kun? You’re kinda scaring me~?”
As she spoke, Saku-senpai awkwardly pressed her chest forward—already strained to the limit by her shirt.
“C’mon, wanna relax by squeezing some boobs?”
“…Tch.”
“A high school boy clicking his tongue at boobs!?”
I knew full well that if I actually took her up on it, she—having zero immunity to such advances—might faint on the spot. So instead, I shot her a look as cold as a farmer eyeing livestock.
“L-let’s just talk, okay?”
She released her chest and switched to a coaxing tone, trying to placate me—but it was too late.
“We’re past that. This is clearly the end. We’ve achieved nothing.”
“Stop. Don’t just declare it over.”
“It was handy for storing things that didn’t fit in lockers, or as a study room substitute.”
“Okay, fine! I get it…”
“Thank you for everyth—”
“I’M SORRYYYYYY!!”
Suddenly, Saku-senpai let out a wail—more like a garbled [UEEEEEN] with dakuten attached—and dropped to a full seiza, hands planted between her knees, her skirt-clad rear flat on the floor in total submission.
The pose looked like a one-way ticket to back problems.
“Uh……?”
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