The post-peak slump will be summarized in a narration-style recap.
After that, we went to Round One for bowling, where we got mediocre scores; Senpai dominated a Gundam arcade game with ten straight wins; Hikami-sensei guzzled beer at the food court; we hit karaoke and chugged highballs; and someone randomly declared, “Now it’s only robot anime songs!” before soloing for hours, turning it into a de facto anime screening.
Hikami-sensei paid for everything except the arcade. I’m usually against the idea of teachers footing the bill (like renting a villa?), but during regular club parties, it’s normal to accept a Sensei’s kindness. Plus, seeing her face crumple with existential despair when I offered to pay made me feel bad. So I accepted. Thanks.
Anyway, that’s it. No big climax, but a more meaningful day than trimming my nails at home.
It’s 3 PM. The mall buzzed with families, hitting peak crowd levels.
“Join the myth already, Komori!”
“Y-yeah, yeah…”
We left the karaoke box after paying, but Hikami-sensei, who’d slammed a Red Bull Vodka for the last round, still hadn’t snapped out of anime-song mode. Obviously, if she could party this hard without slumping over, she’s a pro. Not even a hint of a stagger.
“Let me! Let me go back! Back to before I was born!”
She was oddly energetic, making me uneasy. Her face, as pale as usual, was hard to read—was it illness or just her vibe? A total novice at handling drunks, I patted her back just to ask, “You okay?”
“Of course not!”
Suddenly leaning on me, despite walking fine a second ago. Her hands and cheeks were corpse-cold. Her definitely-real chest was huge and soft. I’d touched both, so no panic, but… now what?
“Come on, come on, don’t be all over the place, Hikami-sensei… Let’s sit here, by these plants.”
Senpai steered her to a bench. Forced to sit, Hikami clung to her for show, but clearly not that drunk.
“Sorry… My pathetic bladder’s reached its limit.”
She deadpanned about her bodily needs like a verbose baby.
“Got it. Let’s find a bathroom, and maybe grab mineral water from a vending machine.”
“What’s the point? You’re just gonna pee it out anyway!”
“To prevent dehydration, duh.”
Senpai, a pro at handling drunks (and salad distribution—maybe she was a drinking club president in a past life?), handled it.
“Then I’ll take Hikami-sensei to visit the flowers. You two wait here.”
“Wait, should I get drinks?!”
Shishihara offered, but Senpai waved her off.
We’d already had enough fun, so I was fine with splitting up, but the party host probably wanted a proper finale. Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded either way.
Ugh, my shoulders and throat hurt. I was about to wait passively when—
“Tsubasa-kun… Got a sec?”
With a beaming smile, Saku-senpai beckoned only to me and declared:
“I shall bestow upon you today’s most critical mission.”
“What mission?”
“While I’m gone, lend an ear to Maon-san’s troubles.”
“…………”
I didn’t ask again.
My gaze drifted to Shishihara, now in full off-mode, leaning against the railing and blankly staring at the floor below. At a glance, she blended into the cityscape—but looking back on today, something felt off.
A high school girl’s essential—her phone. She barely checked it.
Almost like she was avoiding something binding. Not that she acted outright gloomy; she was trying to enjoy herself.
But I could tell she was forcing herself not to think about something. So, in turn, I avoided thinking about what that might be. After all, my classmates had just praised me for “knowing when not to meddle.”*
But Saku-senpai—living saint that she is—would never tolerate such passivity.
“Want me to take over Sensei duty?”
She saw right through my “Aren’t you the meddler here?” and shook her head.
“I’ll leave the tasty role to you, Tsubasa-kun.”
“Why me?”
“Hmm… Think of it like the evolution of ship captains in sci-fi. First, it was dependable old men, then idol-esque female captains dominated, and now it’s a salad bowl of genders, ages, and personalities.”
“That explains nothing. Try another approach.”
“Fufufu. I won’t say it’s because she’s a kitten, but… her wild instincts are sharp. Around someone as radiant as me, she stiffens up too much.”
Still nonsense. I’ve never sensed anything “wild” about Shishihara.
“Point is, you can do what only you can. No regrets.”
With that anime-hero-worthy line, Saku-senpai left to water Hikami-sensei (not a watermelon vine). Does everyone here watch too much of that show?
But she wasn’t wrong—leaving now would leave me unsettled. And her sharp intuition (worthy of a captain) was something I’d come to trust.
“…Guess I’ll earn my free meal.”
(Though she devoured most of the pizza, fries, and yakisoba.)
Grateful I didn’t have to split the bill, I headed toward Shishihara.
READ THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATION AT gadgetizedpanda.net
“So get this—I ordered this tiny hairpin, right? Like, safety-pin-sized. But the delivery guy shows up cradling this massive box, like it’s a Christmas cake inside. I was mortified. I mean, in this economy? If you’re gonna call yourself ‘Mighty Jungle,’ at least pretend to care about the environment!”
“Yeah.”
“And the packaging? Some unholy hybrid of cardboard and paper. Not even fit for recycling! Mom flipped. Oh—wait, random thought: ‘Barretta’ and ‘Beretta’ sound alike, right? …Huh? What’s a ‘Beretta’?”
“A handgun.”
I felt like shooting my own head. What is this idiotic exchange?
As I hesitated over how to bring it up, the never-silent gal kept tossing out one meaningless topic after another. It’s terrifying how she can maintain such a repertoire that’s neither venomous nor healing, but whatever you do, never try to listen seriously. The important parts of my brain felt like they were about to melt.
“Still, they’re slow, aren’t they? Senpai and Botan-chan.”
“Ah, well… yeah.”
Fifteen minutes or so since we parted ways. The theory that she went all the way to India to find a bathroom is plausible, but probably Senpai is secretly monitoring us from a distance, and will continue ignoring us unless the mission progresses. I wonder which comes first—my brain melting or her return.
“Gosh, we sure had fun today. It was so much fun!”
Leaning her back—well, more like her butt—against the railing, Shishihara raised both hands and stretched widely. Her words weren’t really lies, but with make-up classes over, a girl in a sailor uniform from another school walked by, fiddling with her phone. Yep, that’s exactly what a real high school girl should look like.
“Come to think of it! Komori-kun, you picked pretty cool songs at karaoke, huh?”
“…Did you just bluntly say [you only chose songs that didn’t get anyone excited]?”
“No way! I just thought it was unexpectedly good—good, okay?”
“Stop repeating yourself. You’re so obviously lying. But you, on the other hand, were the one who did that.”
“What do you mean? You’re saying my perfect, super lively song choices got criticized?”
“No, I just didn’t realize you weren’t tone-deaf before.”
“You just bluntly implied I was tone-deaf, didn’t you!?”
“You refused to go to karaoke before, remember?”
“Before? Oh, well, that’s because I prioritized club activities back then… Haaah~ ummm…”
Suddenly, Shishihara let out a grand sigh. Like a string snapping, she visibly deflated, finally hugging her knees just before her butt touched the ground.
A typical guy would panic and think, Oh crap, did I say something bad? If she were someone he had a crush on, he’d probably despair, wishing to go back in time. But since neither applied, I held no such feelings—clearly, my conscience was lacking.
—Indeed, I can’t imagine a senpai I admire showing such a side.
So this was what Senpai meant. In other words, this curled-up calico cat instinctively chooses who she lets see her weakness. Seems like an important skill for getting by in life.
Finally, silence arrived, and I let my brain rest. I wouldn’t dream of asking something like What happened? Because I know that’s the kind of person she is, this is the result.
“…Komori-kun?”
True to form, Shishihara lifted her face at the perfect moment.
“Have you ever fought with Takizawa?”
“Takizawa? No, never.”
“Eh? Seriously? Not even once?”
“We’ve only known each other for two weeks.”
“Aren’t you the one who’s always with him? I thought you were best friends!”
We don’t hang out that much.
“Then… who’s the person you’ve known the longest…? Probably Seiin-senpai, right?”
“Maybe.”
“Did you ever fight with her?”
“All the time. We fought even in front of you before.”
“Umm, not that kind… how do I say… Like, when both of you stubbornly refuse to talk to each other?”
“….”
It was always one-sided. The strange stubbornness probably came from me alone.
“Yeah, once. A big one.”
“Was it long?”
“We were distant for over a year.”
“……………………Eh?”
Even the air made it clear she thought You’re joking, right?
“G-gomen… ne?”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“……Sorry.”
The cat girl curled up again. Exactly the reaction of someone thinking, Oh no, did I mess up? or I wish I could go back and redo this! Yep, apparently society has a rule that people who ask such careless questions must make themselves feel bad.
So if I ask something careless in return, it’ll balance things out.
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