“Heart hurt? Pulse? Blood pressure?”
“Not that old… Well, age doesn’t matter with health, but—”
The pain was in my soul.
—No matter how hard I racked my brain, her name wouldn’t come.
Not a single syllable. A crisis. Unlike some succubus, I hadn’t abandoned basic decency, so bluntly asking “What’s yer name?” wasn’t an option.
My one hope? Mutual amnesia—Your Name. scenario. But—
“…Y’know, Bat-kun? You give off ‘gives up his train seat for pregnant women’ vibes, but then you’re all… like, this.”
“Do go on.”
“Kinda dark? Dead eyes sometimes. Oh! Ricchan says you’re ‘nice outside but totally the type to emotionally abuse his wife at home,’ but I don’t think you’re that bad—”
“Thanks for the glowing review.”
“S-sorry! Not my words, okay?! Ricchan only says it ‘cause you hang with Takizawaa.”
“Takizawaa… Ah, Takizawa.”
Her pronunciation was too native. (Ricchan was the queen bee, by the way.)
I tabled the plummeting of my social stock. As suspected, she knew my nickname well. The unwelcome familiarity grated. Who’s responsible for this? My glare probably screamed domestic violence.
“See, this is why you’re scary, Bat-kun.”
“Says the one making scary claims.”
“Sooorry~! But still! Always thought ‘Komori’ is a wild last name.”
“Hah?”
“So many strokes! Pain on tests, right? How many people even—”
“………………”
I was speechless.
—This girl thinks my real name is “Komori” [bat]?!
The shock was real, but this tragedy was inevitable. At this point, Komori (bat-winged, beady-eyed) had overtaken my actual name school-wide.
But—miraculously—this was my out. She didn’t know my real name either. Time for informality.
“Ah, my bad… And you are?”
“HUH?! You talked this whole time not knowing?!”
“Yep. Long journey.”
“Ask first! God, so embarrassing—”
Her feverish fanning resumed, anger lost to fluster. A pacifist, clearly. Also, alarmingly unguarded. Calling it out would only redden her further, so—
“…Why the 45-degree upward angle?”
“I don’t try to see what I can’t see.”
“???? I’m Shishihara Maon!”
TLNOTE : Shishihara = Lion’s cub
With the grand reveal, my brain finally kicked into gear.
“…Ah. Shishihara.”
“Mhm! Remember now?”
“The one who, during first homeroom, went ‘I’m a lion even though I’m catlike! Rawr!’ complete with hand gestures, then bombed spectacularly?”
“………………I’d prefer you forget that.”
Recalling the blizzard of awkwardness, Shishihara shuddered. “Bombed” wasn’t quite right—she’d aborted the bit midway, crimson-faced, muttering “N-never mind…” A comedian’s worst sin.
“The golden rule with that kind of thing is to do it with confidence. The performer’s embarrassment spreads to the audience, you know.”
“Wait, you’re giving me acting advice now!?”
“I do respect your bold choice of material, for the record.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be bold OR material! It’s just… I’ve got a plain personality… and that’s pretty much the only [unique trait] I have… so I figured I might as well lean into it, right?”
Shishihara fidgeted with her fingertips, stealing a glance at me. Her eyes begged for agreement while secretly hoping to be contradicted—but I didn’t know her well enough to pick either.
“Right, you’re a [Werecat], aren’t you?”
A safe, factual check. Just small talk, really. But Shishihara must’ve read into nonexistent subtext, because her facial features scrunched up. “Unyu…”
“You can’t remember my name, but THAT sticks with you, huh?”
“Thanks to the [Rawr!], yeah.”
“Ugh, forget about that already!”
“I didn’t hate it, for what it’s worth.”
“O-oh, well… that’s good, I guess? But… the rest of me must’ve been totally forgettable, huh?”
“Leaving even one mark’s better than nothing.”
“Nah, don’t bother sugarcoating it. To most people, I’m just Ricchan’s sidekick… Not that that’s bad, but… Ugh, no, it’s actually not enough—”
“Which is it?”
“Dunno.”
She laughed, but there was a tinge of dejection in Shishihara’s voice. The answer was obvious.
“Ugh, I wish I had some flashy, in-your-face kinda personality too…”
“……”
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No clue why we were even having this conversation, but clearly, she was wrestling with something.
The ambitious kind, at that. To me, just being a gal put her high on the school’s social ladder—but I guess even among gals, there’s a pecking order.
Sure, guys have their own hierarchy too, but the type who cares about that wouldn’t be stuck in a shady two-member club. And they definitely wouldn’t just take insults like “You look like the type of guy who emotionally abuses his wife at home” lying down.
Anyway, as someone who’d long since checked out, I couldn’t relate to Shishihara’s struggles at all.
“Stay strong.”
“Huh? Oh, uh… sure?”
“Looking forward to your next bit.”
I wrapped up with the most useless pep talk ever as a farewell—
“Hey hey HEY!”
—only for her to block my path like an overeager rookie comedian. I tried to sidestep without eye contact, but “Hup!” she grabbed my wrist. Slightly sweaty.
“…What?”
“C’mon, I finally found you—don’t just disappear! Got somewhere to be?”
“Yep. Off to club activities, where I’ll be subjected to torturous suffering.”
“If you know that, just skip—wait, no! That club’s the… literary one or whatever, right?”
How did she know the name, freshly approved by the student council not even three minutes ago?
Her answer: “Heard you talking with Aoi-chan at lunch!”
“Eavesdropping?”
“Just overheard! But man, everyone’s super interested in you, Komori-kun. Especially when Succubus-senpai’s name comes up.”
“Too much free time.”
My best attempt at sarcasm was effortlessly deflected with “I get it though~ She’s so cool!” Shishihara’s face glowed like a field of tulips—a look I’d seen on plenty of others. Another victim ensnared by the illusion of [Saiin Sakuya = The Perfect Woman].
“They say she’s got life experience on a whole other level, like some dream boss meets cultured intellectual! Bet she gives amazing advice~”
“……”
I should’ve shut this down hard, if only to spare her from future lawsuits by “dream bosses” and “cultured intellectuals.”
But I didn’t. Because I’d just realized why Shishihara had been looking for me.
“Wait… you wanna consult our club president?”
“Yes yes! That’s exactly who I wanna see!”
Just as I thought—our very first guest. Talk about beginner’s luck. The “dream boss” might even praise me for this. Yet, I felt no joy. Only the gloom of a salaryman who’d missed the last train, scouring the streets for a capsule hotel. Panicked for some reason, Shishihara flailed her hands.
“D-does it cost money? If so, I’d prefer, like… installments—”
If you’re thinking about revolving payments, DON’T.
“No fee. Just fill out a simple survey.”
“Huh? That’s it? Hell yeah, fill it down a million!”
For a moment, I could have sworn she said ‘strip it down~’ instead of ‘fill it down~’ and it would’ve fit just as wel.
This girl needed to be warier. Exploiting her innocence felt wrong, but she was voluntarily seeking enlightenment (?)—turning her away would be cruel.
“…Alright, let’s head to the clubroom.”
“Yay, lead the way~!”
Forward: hell. Backward: hell. The boat we boarded was made of mud. No matter what, we were doomed to sink.
Werecat—if written in kanji, it would generally be expressed as 猫人 (cat-person).
They’re classified as so-called beast-type Myudents. Just as werewolves possess wolf-like traits, cat-people have characteristics related to cats (referring to the small wildcats that are considered the origin of domestic cats).
In other words, the self-introduction “I’m a cat, but I’m a lion. Roar!” was layered irony: first acknowledging that Werecats have zero connection to lions (Panthera leo), then self-deprecatingly highlighting her lion-themed name (Shishi), and capping it with “Wait, ‘rawr’ is a lion’s roar!” for a punchline. Masterful, I thought—but public reception was lukewarm.
Of course, since it’s still based on the physical laws of the real world, they don’t have animal ears or tails growing out like in fantasy settings, nor are their bodies covered in animal fur. So what specific characteristics do they actually have………Wait, why am I narrating like a documentary?
I had time to kill on the way to the club room, so I randomly tried transcribing my thoughts.
During the journey, Shishihara had been chattering away as if three seconds of silence would be a broadcast accident—yet the content was completely empty, so I just kept giving mechanical responses like “ah” and “uh-huh”—but as we approached our destination, she grew quieter.
“Oh no, I think I’m getting nervous.”
“You’re not the type to be shy around people.”
“I told you she’s my idol senpai! inhale, exhale……”
In front of the club room at the far end of the third floor—still with the Literature Club nameplate unchanged—the girl slowly took deep breaths. Her exaggerated gesture of placing her hand on her thin chest made it seem like I could feel her racing heartbeat too. But honestly, I was being forced into a different kind of tension.
Behind this single door, Saku-senpai was waiting. In some ways, it would have been happier if she wasn’t there.
To my admonishing message of [I’m bringing a girl who wants counseling, so please behave yourself],
[Got it. I’ll be natural]
came a reply that I couldn’t tell was a joke or serious.
It left me feeling empty.
It was like a panicked shut-in suddenly faced with unexpected visitors, desperately trying to stuff scattered obscene materials into the closet. Besides, that walking R-18 rating would probably crawl out from the depths of hell even if you put handcuffs and rope on her. All things considered, it seemed ridiculous.
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