I recoiled slightly. Bewildered was the right word. Even from our less-than-three-minute exchange, it was obvious: Saku-senpai and I were oil and water. Splitting up wouldn’t just cause no harm—it’d simply return things to how they should be.
“We haven’t accomplished anything yet!”
She was frantic, like a deadbeat husband handed divorce papers.
“And that’s why we should breaking up, no?”
“You’re just proving my point—no, wait! I’m talking about the future! I’ll reflect deeply and reform! From now on, I’ll take club activities seriously! So please, show mercy—grant me one more chance~!”
“……”
It reeked of a freeloader declaring, “I’ll totally get a job this time!” before heading straight to the pachinko parlor. Only a born fool would hand such a moron cash with a “Here, buy a suit with this ♡.” Yet—Saku-senpai had just volunteered to reform.
More importantly, seeing a stunning high school girl prostrating like this was… uncomfortable. If I were the type to lust after her, I might as well direct those feelings toward supermarket fishcakes.
“Sigh… Fine. Just get up alread—”
“Thank you!”
She sprang up, dusting her skirt with self-spanking slaps. Too quick a rebound, I thought—but her utter lack of shame (read: grandma energy) somehow put me at ease.
“Welp, now that we’re back on track—let’s shoot for the stars and shove our success in the faces of those who doubted us!”
“Ambition’s fine, but what exactly is this club for? We can’t keep borrowing the ‘Literary Club’ name forever…”
“Agreed. We’ll honor our predecessors while upgrading to a wittier title!”
“So you are inheriting it.”
We’d discussed this before. Previous proposals included:Literary Club Beyond → Literary Club and the Secret Room → Literary Club: Apocalypse Arc
…A naming trajectory so convoluted it’d confuse anyone revisiting the “series.”
“What was the temporary name again?”
“The Returned Literary Club.”
Where had it even gone?
“We’re floundering. Any ideas?”
“Hmm… how about [Service Club], in the sense of serving the community. Or [Neighbor Club], meaning we want to be good neighbors to the students. Or perhaps taking the initials of [Saiin Saku-ya’s Organization for Spreading excitement Significantly throughout the world] to make it S.O.S. Bri—”
“Can you seriously think this through? You’re ignoring our predecessors entirely.”
“Juuust kidding~ I’ve had a trendy name brewing for ages.”
“Hope it’s not expired…”
“Fufufu… Behold!”
She marched to the wall, tore off a March calendar (still up), and grabbed a black marker. Pop. Squeak. Scribble. Seven seconds of grating noises later:
“Ta-daaa!”
Like a grade-schooler showing off calligraphy—or, well, a high school girl. On the back of the paper, in elegant cursive:
[Literary Club ( )!!]
The odd blank space stood out.
“What’s with the gap? Fill it in.”
“Non! That’s the essence!”
Grinning, she physically tilted her nose up.
“Calling it ‘incomplete’ is shallow. This is potential—all things, once ‘complete,’ can only decline. By leaving this void, we ward off calamity…”
“Like leaving three roof tiles undone? Or the ‘upside-down pillar’ at Tōshōgū Shrine?”
“Yep. Your accuracy is dulling my brilliance.”
Historical precedent lent credibility, but—
“Our activities remain undefined.”
“Only on paper! I’ve got the answer right here!” She tapped her temple.
“Which is?”
“Literary Club (Shinjuku’s Mom), Literary Club (Harajuku’s Mom), Literary Club (Ginza’s Mom)…”
“We’re way outside the 23 wards. Why the fortune-teller ‘mom’ theme?”
“Everyone loves fortune-telling! Especially teens—prime age for love!”
“You mean ‘youthful passion.’”
“Thus, solving their problems = direct path to happiness!”
“…Don’t tell me you’re planning to give love advice? Guide troubled hearts to salvation?”
“Bingo!”
For Saku-senpai, this was alarmingly reasonable. But—
Wait. Think. This plan had a fatal flaw.
“So, a ‘love evangelist’ is born. How thrilling.”
“”Sorry to burst your bubble there, but………..upfft, Who’s the evangelist?”
“Me, duh—hey! Did you just snort!?”
How could I not? She styled herself as some love guru, yet—
“You’ve never even had a boyfriend.”
Saku-senpai gasps as if she’s about to cry out in despair after receiving a straight shot
“Guh—! W-well, not now… But maybe in the past—”
“Doubtful. Extremely doubtful.”
“Why so sure!?”
“Because normal teens don’t kill time in places like this!!”
“That’s a boomerang insult!”
“I know! That’s why this is hopeless!”
If even I lacked the qualifications, our two-member club was doomed.
“Please reconsider. Please.”
“…No. It’s decided.”
“This woman…”
She turned away, mentally regressing to age 10. Mumbles of “I had nine Christmas dates in Persona!” and “I got chocolates from everyone in Tokimeki!” escaped her—nonsense to anyone else.
But this was one of her worst habits: the “Reverse Demon”—an obsession with doing the exact opposite of what’s deemed impossible. Once activated, stopping her was futile.
“…Fine. Even if we do run a ‘counseling’ thing, limiting it to romance is iffy. Broaden the scope for more appeal.”
“Fair. For now, let’s go with Literary Club (Lost Lambs Wanted!).”
“That’s just desperate.”
“Que será será. I foresee a flood of sheep in distress!”
Where this confidence came from, I’d never know. Normally, I’d laugh off a woman who daydreams of “retiring to a countryside café~”—but I couldn’t. Because mocking her felt like mocking myself.
“Sooo, you’ll handle the publicity and promotions nicely for me, riiight?”
“……”
Saku-senpai tilted her body diagonally, hands pressed together as if in prayer. Her ink-black long hair framed her face at the perfect angle as she made her request. Not that I was fooled by her calculated cuteness. I was the one who pushed her to reform, I was the one who lit a fire under her—so I had no right to complain, given this was my own mess.
“Things are about to get busy. For now, just prepare the crystal ball……”
“You’re unusually motivated.”
“Duh. For Tsubasa-kun’s sake too, I’ll make sure this club survives no matter what!”
“……For my sake?”
“Well, if this place shuts down, you’d have nowhere to go after school, right?”
“I’d just go home like a normal person.”
Maybe it would’ve been easier if she’d kept indulging in her inconsistent childish antics. The fact that thought even crossed my mind probably meant I was just as much of a sly fox as her.
READ THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATION AT gadgetizedpanda.net
The day after the “rebirth” of the Literary Club (or whatever it was) was officially decided.
“……This is way too unrealistic. I knew it.”
Dashing to the school store as soon as lunch break started—while savoring the casquette I managed to snag as the last one, I was already sensing the concept was falling apart
Spread on the desk were two forms I’d grabbed from the faculty room: Club Activity Amendment Requests.
One bore the profoundly ambiguous name [Literary Club ( )], while the other detailed Saku-senpai’s brilliant activity proposal, drafted in under three minutes:
“[Through supporting students with diverse personal struggles, we study the foundations of healthy adolescent minds.]” Blah, blah, blah.
All that was left was to submit it to the student council for their lax approval. Everything seemed smooth—
—Wait, think logically.
If this got approved, Saku-senpai (…and me) would earn the illustrious title of Super Advisors for Puberty-Stricken Youths. Of course, no sane person would seek advice from such a shady group—but what if some naive lamb actually came for help? Could Saku-senpai (…and me) guide them?
Let me say it plainly: I can’t. I’m not cut out for supporting people, let alone lecturing them.
Which meant it’d fall to Saku-senpai. But honestly, getting life advice from her would be less useful than monologuing to ants in the park—and that’s only because I know how degenerate she really is. Externally, she’s flawless: silver-tongued, charismatic, and eerily skilled at playing therapist… or not. Whatever.
The goal was just to look like we were “contributing.” Didn’t matter if it was hollow or borderline fraudulent. We’d leverage Saku-senpai’s cult-leader charm, gather “followers,” and hand out “vaguely profound platitudes”—
“When did I become the ringleader of a scam…?”
A sixteen-year-old tormented by guilt. Who counsels the counselor?
Amid the classroom’s cheerful chatter, I probably radiated the unapproachable aura of a salaryman crammed on the Inokashira Line—
“You okay, Komori-kun?”
—when one brave soul breached my gloomy radius.
I looked up to see a soft-spoken girl with calm-colored hair gazing down at me. Sharp features, yet carrying a gentle air—a hybrid of intellect and warmth. Her neatly worn uniform screamed respectable, the polar opposite of Saku-senpai’s illegal-hostess-club vibe.
“……Maihama.”
“Heya. Need help filling those out?”
“Nah. If anything, it’s going too smoothly…”
“Then quit moping like it’s the apocalypse.”
“People’ll worry,” she chided. Her name was Maihama Aoi.
Even though I still couldn’t match half my classmates’ faces to names, Maihama was an exception—we’d been in the same class since first year. Honestly, I probably memorized her name on day one. That’s how striking she is.
“Oh, you really are done. Efficient~.”
“Done, yeah. Not sure about submitting it yet—”
“Lemme see~!”
“H-Hey!”
Slender fingers darted out, snatching both sheets.
“Hmm-hmm… ‘Literary Club (open bracket) (close bracket)’, huh. Interesting~…”
“Stop reading it out loud.”
It sounded so stupid I wanted to dig a hole to Brazil. But Maihama just blinked curiously, no mockery in her tone.
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