I’ve turned forty! Forty! Kyaah~ Eeyaah~ Gyaah~! Forty — a demonic number capable of bringing down a corrupt government; it’s a number encapsulating the bounty and depth of not just life, but of history. People lose their immaturity here, and step onto the stairway to adulthood. Kyaah, what smooth skin! I’m so jealous! Dammit, even if she’s my own daughter, that look is just too damn much!
“Don’t steal my monologue!”
And what the hell is up with you replacing the chapter title with screaming? …I don't know what I'm saying either; it's like my mouth was possessed by a necromancer.
…Alright, start over. Hi, I’m Niwa Makoto. At the moment, the room is about forty times noisier.
Today – Sunday, June sixth — a certain forty-year old child was yelling her afternoon away. It was annoying. She came into my room, riled up the dust and crawled around on the bed like a beached shrimp. It would appear to be a futile struggle against the changing of her age.
As a side note, there’s some medicine patch on her feet. It looked kinda depressing.
“What a cruel world~ uwooo~wuu. If time and story could stop, I could be forever thirty nine. My dream of spreading 'thirty-nine year old business card'[1] in the town is over.”
Sniffle~ Touwa Meme-san spat out her absurd wish. She’s my aunt (おばさん), and there is no way a ‘ka’ is between the two kana’s. Since her name might begin to appear in the examples of the definition of forty-years old, my peaceful life is threatened. [2]
“Ahh~ Wuu~ Forty… Elliot is also forty, Hoshimimi is also forty. Onii-san is also forty two… Ohohohoh!” She buried her face into the pillow, an eerie smile crept up on her face. This way, she wasted her move. But in the time of each of my move, she has triple the amount of action – What energy. Well, not like I know what’s happening!
“Meme-san, please go back!” Shoo~ Shoo~ I put out my stance of eviction. It, however, has never worked.
“If you don’t call me Meme-chan or Honey, I’m not going to listen! Hmph!” Just as the sound effect suggested, she looked to the side.
Change your honey-smothered-brain behavior, ya forty-year old! I’m the one who wants you out of the house!
“Honey~ (the hell’s wrong with me)”
“Heck no! You sound perverted!”
She just grew in some unnecessary direction, compare to before. Sigh… I guess it’s pretty impressive, growing at all at her age.
“Don’t give me that look. My skin is actually so good that some people call me the smooth-skinned sensei! Don’t be shy, come here… Come here~”
I wanted to silently leave her alone, but Meme-san talked like she won’t accept a second of pause: “My~ Don’t be shy! Even though loving your dad’s sister is just as bad as falling in love with your own dad, endearing names are completely fine!” Her raving bloated like marshmallow, pressuring the air and my stomach.
She’s done: she's not at all mature, and it’s going to be terrible if nothing is done. Looks like I have to say something. If this goes on, misunderstanding will occur between us and the neighbors, and there will be no more weekends.
“…Meme-chan.”
“Badump~ (star)” Crap.
I’m going to kick her. And not just her shadow.[3]
“Please stay in your room quietly.”
“Am I not~?”
“In your room… Quietly. What you just said isn’t true, but it isn't a lie either, so I wanted to point out one of the problems, but neither way works!”
“La~La~ I can’t understand your tirade~”
Slip~ Meme-san, who gave up on talking, slid closer and pounced me. “Heeyaw~!” She carefully closed the novel I was reading and tossed it toward the bed.
Oh no, Kikkawa Eiji flew off… Not that I’m passionate enough for this author to cry out like that. I’ve already read a few of his books, but his style is still too wordy. His wordiness is, however, pretty popular in a lot of places.
In the end of the book that just flew off, the main character defeated the weapon-wielding killer with a shoe. There should always be a limit to fickleness. Maybe it’s a mutant of the phrase “Pen is mightier than a sword”?
“There are bigger things, Mako-kun. Comfort your aunt whose Happiness-point is dropping because of sadness!”
She shot me a smile that begged for pity. Ugh, listen: people who are traumatized shouldn’t smile like that. That aside, what the hell is this point that scales inversely with mine?
“For the sake of convenience, I will name it 'an unbelievable feeling that strikes my heart, warms my skin, and upsets me when it’s gone.'”
“Don’t read garbage and use it as explanation.”
“C’mon! Licking, touching or crying, whatever you like!”
My kind aunt purposefully informed me of activities that would lead to the loss of Youth-points.
“Then I choose to back off.” Omitting the specific, I dodged the oncoming danger. Keeping the sum as zero when dealing with Meme-san is actually considered as great fortune.
“How terribly cold of you. You must have been raised in a fridge!”
“It’s better than a certain aunt who’s like an onigiri in the summer sun.”
“Why did I have to be forty? Thinking carefully now, wouldn’t my age and Erio’s add up to fifty five? That’s like Area 51, isn’t it? Creepy. Or better yet, Erio 51.[4]
“It’s a bit of a pain to think about what you’re talking, so can I not?”
“Of course not~” From that fresh tone, I failed to sense the necessity for consultation.
“I see… The numbers don’t add up though. Shouldn’t Erio be sixteen now?” She’s my age.
“I’m thirty nine~!” Meme-san violently raised her hand. If there was a short-legged table there, she would definitely flip it merrily.
“Don’t tell me, your birthday has a reentry point?”
“Birthdays are special occasions. What’s so wrong about being thirty nine for that day anyway~?”
She rolled around, exhibiting an act of groveling that was obviously carefully deliberated. Judging from how she didn’t hope to be twenty nine, I could see her modesty. But I wished that she wouldn’t ask for my agreement. How in the world do you want me to response?
“Uh, hm. Anyway, happy birthday.”
‘You are a negative jerk, Mako-kun! Just as I thought!”
Meme-san bolted out of the room after leaving those words. How rude — I have +1 point right now. I counted again back in May when I was bored in the hospital, so I should be right. By the way, because it was too complicated, I didn’t calculate the total of when people came to visit me. But those points were probably canceled out by Ryuushi-san and Nasukawa-san’s attack. [5]
Bam bam~ Unlike her name suggests, Meme-san ran downstairs valiantly, and then ran back up humming ‘Lalala~’. She quietly peeked inside in the hallway. Every time she does something like that, bad feelings and memories surface in me. This kind of sensation is like seeing a single black spot on the radio exercise attendance card. [6]
“I forgot to tell you, Mako-kun – No, Mako-chan!”
“What?” Changing my name was definitely pointless.
“The blanket is covered with my smell, so you can sniff it all you want!”
“Wha~ahhh~!”
My reaction was supposed to be filled with a mountain of exclamation marks, but since this topic is filled with too much pain, I could only scream.
“Wuhaha! Ah~ It’s great to help someone!”
Meme-san rolled her shoulders, this time disappearing into the hallway and down the stairs with a demeaning smug.
Look at you – so you are worried about being forty. I didn’t even have the strength to make a retort to her back. Are human really capable of doing things they will never regret? I shifted blame to the difficult ethics in life, wanting to lament on various things. I made the decision to never lie down on that bed today.
…And then —
A person rolled through the hallway — as if trading place with Meme-san — from the neighboring room.
She was the futon-wrapped mini crazy girl, the daughter of that person just now. Speaking of which, would Touwa Erio end up like that in twenty years? No, think of it the other way – Meme-san was Erio twenty years ago. Hm~ it should be registered as one of the world’s Seven Wonders. In Ryuushi-san’s words, this is the mystery that exists around us.
With a cartwheel, Erio invaded my room, moving toward the target that was the center. She staggeringly stood up, almost sending the feathers out, and slid. Her legs seemed to be numb from kneeling down.
“Fufufufu…” Erio sneered cockily… Wait, maybe the numbness made her moan, 'Wuwuwu...’ sounding like the muffled laughter of a merciless antagonist with flu behind a futon.
Her right leg twitched, and the other kept a subtle arc. That must be the afflicted one. She lifted the blanket… Or rather, her whole body; but gravity had the upper hand, and she filled the space between her and the floor.
I’ll give you three minutes. I watched, yet Erio didn’t move. She seemed to have given up.
“Idiot.” People who are free 24/7 are irritating because of this: It’s habits like ‘what a pain, let’s just lie down here’ that are the worst. Yet, is is enviable, being allowed to do just that.
I helped Erio – or the blanket – up. The princess was, naturally, unhurt and indifferent. “Stick your head out.” And so, I commanded her as if summoning the Genie.
Swoosh~ Pah! Her head drilled upward, revealing only the face from the futon. Though expressionless, Erio — the embodiment of a pretty girl — was surprisingly earnest. This is like describing an apple, for example. Some people will emphasize on the redness or the size of an apple, but other than food novels or manga, no one will describe the species of apples in tremendous detail. Just like when writing about apples where most people would think of a red, palm-sized fruit, Erio’s appearance faithfully reproduces the hazy image that people have of a pretty girl.
Most men would probably think, ‘she’s super cute; I’ll take care of her,’ but I’m not one of them: I care more about the inside of a person. Well, not like I can assert that without a shard of doubt, but who cares? I changed my attitude arbitrarily:
“Why are you wearing the futon again?” Didn’t Denpa Onna end in the last volume?
“I’m the most comfortable like this.”
“You wanna decorate that hole in the wall? Whatever. You got something for me?”
Her dialogue didn’t stray to space, but was instead guided toward me, saving all the trouble of communication. However, I’m still not used to it. Or rather, I feel embarrassed to her answering me normally.
Why did her first impression have to be so intense?
Erio, who should be at her most comfortable, was squirming around restlessly, her gaze darting left and right.
"Today is Mom's..." Hearing something like that came out from her mouth was bizzare to me: sort of like something that looked wooden, but actually metalic. My days exchanging with Earthling Erio is still quite shallow.
"Birthday."
"Mmhm."
"...And?" She seemed to think that a single phrase would be enough to convey her intention: "...Everything else in the middle too." My comprehension isn't that good, so give me the accepted answer.
With a tinge of trouble on her face, Erio bit her lower lips and mumbled the missing link:
"The pastry."
"The pastry." I regurgitated pointlessly. For some reason, even the young high school guy with an overactive imagination found it difficult to picture Erio chowing down on snacks. Though I could picture her eating mochi, and stretching it out because the toughness. [7]
“Mom likes dango.” [8]
...Oh, I see. So we're celebrating? It should be fine if it isn't a cake, then, since dango's what she likes.
So, summarizing what Erio just said, I understood the purpose of she bringing up this topic… Hm.
“You want me to bring you there?”
“Mhm.”
“Ah—...Sure, whatever.”
Like sunlight reverting from dusk to noon, rays shot out from Erio. The particles of light sensed her reaction, and gathered on specific spots of her skin.
Perhaps recovered from numbness, Erio successfully stood up this time and hurried to the doorway.
“Oi, take the futon off first.”
“Guu!”
Though dissatisfied, she looked away as if remembered something.
“What's wrong?”
“Cousin.” Erio gazed at my eyes. Even the color of her irises was deep as if refined by extraterrestrial means. Water in her eyes gleamed chrome and clear; drinks filled with solvent are incomparable to it.
“What?”
“The futon has my smell. Do you want it?”
“You two got something wrong — I am not a sniffer.” [9]
The answer opposite of your thought is so wrong, yet so right.
The new bicycle showed me worlds that I almost forgot.
Wheels that will actually follow the chain, handles that don't feel sandy, frame with no rust or shedding, basket with perfect paint, and the Erio inside of it — the last one was extra!
After my forceful removal of the futon (as a side note, her struggle, 'hng~ hng!', was cute) Erio obediently went out with me. She didn't sit behind me, but instead stuffed her butt into the basket naturally, waiting for the delivery. According to her, 'this is more comfortable.'
My cousin, who always prioritizes comfort, dismissed the white line that labeled sidewalk. Looks like rigorous effort is required to change her life for the better. Since this mission was not obligatory, I wanted to take good care of all of my bones — including my healed right arm. The certain someone who wasted all my calcium is now considered my nemesis.
Sun shone high on the Saturday two weeks after raining season, ensuing the weather of May. The wind and light were pleasantly dry, removing only the extra moisture on skin. The end of spring is the best time to ride a bicycle to enjoy the breeze.
As I followed along the dike, as per Erio's direction, I saw an open ground below with a group of adults and children playing baseball. How nostalgic! Baseball was something of a football substitute back in elementary school, when all the footballs in the gym storage have been taken. [10]
Because we only had a total of six people from both teams, once three people land singles consecutively, we would have the outfielder come and bat. The result was ambiguous win/loss, but looking back now, isn't it pretty good to be able to kill time without arguments?
Kids tend to argue over the smallest things like winning or losing; although most are able to make up in weeks or months, there are cases when they will never speak again. Well, most people lose touch with their friends after graduating, but a happy farewell is always appreciated.
Since there wasn't any oncoming traffic, I had an overlook of the game. The tiny girl batter wore a red yukata, a pair of ukon geta, a construction helmet… A girl? Female? Her age was unknown. But the girl dressed in all that was batting, and she sent the ball flying to the left field. The batter stumbled because of the recoil at first, but immediately dropped the bat and sprinted forward. She made it to second base through the first, triumphantly raising her right hand. It looked like a mischievous Zashiki Warashi playing baseball. [11]
If that's so, then this might not be the little league, but the yokai league? Maybe it's more enjoyable than a field day in the grave yard? I came to my own conclusion despite of obvious facts. [12]
“Baseball...” Erio, who was stuffed int the basket, mumbled. The words unfiltered by futon sounded like notes played on a piano in staccato: they were clear, but vague in meaning.
“Do you like it?”
As I asked, Erio wildly shook her hair that was long enough to be a carpet. The game-watching was declared finished when I began looking at her hair. I rode across the bridge; the dyke disappeared.
“Were you ever in a club when you were still in school?”
Having a normal conversation with a girl riding on your bike — isn't this the promised land of Youth-points? Yet, the numbers showed no sign of changing due to her way of riding. Things are never as expected.
“Club… Astronomy club.”
“Ah, the quiet kind?” Just as I thought: space. So you do like that stuff.
“...I'm part of the go-home club that thinks 'I should have joined' with a smirk on my face.”
“...Is that so?” You'd still look like a painting with a creepy mug, right?
I followed Erio's instruction and entered what looked like the shopping district. Old shops that would treat shopping centers as enemies stood on both sides, and few with the shutters closed scattered here and there. Without fail, people standing by the stores and those in uniform riding on bicycles all turned their heads to gaze at the pretty girl in the basket. I felt awkward — definitely not about stupid things like 'I don't fit in this picture.'
On the southern part of the district, I parked in front of the pastry next to the bicycle shop. Through the window, the scenery inside the store seemed to emphasize the color white.
Written on the signboard outside was the introduction of strawberry daifuku and the new Dorayaki mochi. [13]
As a side note, the shop's name appeared to be 'Mars Globe.' As expected of the greedy town that want to grasp not only the locals, but also a different planet: even the naming has something to with space!
“This is the only pastry I know.”
“Really…? Well, I don't really care where we're going. Meme-san should be happy as long as you bought it for her.”
Maybe she'll even feel that her tears shed for the lamentation of being forty 'what a waste~' and moved to tears again for different reasons. No, not a chance. She shouldn't be the type to honestly accept a gift. Sigh, the thing Meme-san talked about before, the, uh, Happiness-point might rise?
Erio seemed embarrassed; her cheeks flushed pink. She covered her face with her hands, as if trying to hide her blush.
We went inside the gorgeous shop decorated with flags and hand-drawn advertisement, like a refurbished pachinko parlor.
“Welcome… Eh, don't I know you two?”
The white, round object that was initially wiping the display case greeted us cordially.
“...”
Hah? I have to describe? But, uh, it's just Maekawa-san wearing a daifuku skin.
“Hm~? Why are you just standing there, transfer student? …And the futon-roll, whoa! It's been a while since I've seen the content!”
“...Mm.”
Was Erio's calmness out of maturity? Or simply seeing the other person as a fellow cosplayer? Faced with the gaze of an old classmate, she actually realized her disgrace and hid behind me.
“Oh man, you are shy now! And so chummy with the transfer student, too, with this and with that~”
“N-no, our relation isn't based on love; it's mostly just familial! So, what is Lady Daifuku doing then?”
“Watch it there, this isn't a daifuku — it's a shiroko of a bocchan dango. Dango, not shirako!” [14]
She protested; her cheeks swelled as if stuffed with dango. I see, so that's a dango on her head.
“The two have totally different chewiness. You get me, transfer student?”
“Really? But you got powder on you.”
“It's just the paint falling off — this isn't exactly expensive.”
She stopped wiping the window and turned to face us. Maekawa-san was unfazed even when wearing this outfit that reduces both defense and coolness to minimum, standing tall with her back straight. Indeed, she lanky.
Rather than calling that a dango, isn't her outfit better suited as a yam? Let's keep this thought a secret.
“As you can see, I work here. A mascot is indeed a must-have in this time and age!”
“Right.” You just look like a ball for a game of pushball though.
“There are two more outfits for the Mugwort and red bean flavor, do you want to try it? Let's all be a skewer!” [15]
She gestured to the inside of the store. The illusion of a drama club called Wagashi store spread from the interior. Just like people who ask others to play football after school, she encourages people to cosplay on the weekend… Is this what the city is about? Hm, definitely can't let your guard down in the city: there are always cars zooming by the road, so a misstep is always deadly. In the country side, the worst that could happen is falling into the field along with the bicycle.
After her careful words of politeness, Maekawa-san pouted out of boredom and began taking care of her customers:
“Alright, what are you doing here?”
“Shouldn't there only be one thing a customer could be here for?”
“The most surprising answer: you're here to stare at me. Mm.”
“Unfortunately, it is the most unsurprising one: Erio is here to get some dango.”
I nudged Erio, who was hiding behind to avoid the gaze attack, onto the stage. Holding her shoulders, I made her face Maekawa-san. I could feel the stiffness of her shoulders from my palm.
Maekawa-san peered at Erio with a novel look, while Erio gingerly looked up to Maekawa-san like a blackmailed girl. Erio may be able to speak normally with her family, but with others, she becomes suffocatingly punctual.
From an outsider's view, if either of them were to represent Earth on the space council, confusion would sure follow.
“Touwa, huh… Heh~ where's the futon?”
“She doesn't wear it anymore, right?” At least outside of the house.
Erio looked down, her gaze escaping to the side, without uttering a word.
“Is it just Maekawa-san in the store? What about the manager?” Since there was not progress in our conversation, I had to say something to ease the awkwardness.
“The manager skipped out, so she asked me to open the store. It's been like this for a while now.”
This distribution of labor is messed up! And she agreed to it. What an annoyingly lenient worker. Does dressing up freely also make you more open-minded?
If I ditch Erio, she will never say her reasons of visiting here. And thus, I had to say, 'all right, what are you buying?' sort of like being her encouraging mother. What a troublesome person.
“Dango, um… I'm here for some Mitarashi Dango.” [16]
She finally kind of successfully spoke her intent to the white dango that called herself the clerk. Maekawa-san said, 'dango? Sure.' After letting her body bump into several places in the store, she opened up a display case:
“How many?”
“F…five sticks.” Erio shot her hand out abruptly, exaggeratedly stuck out all the fingers.
“Oh hoh, thank you!”
Maekawa-san responded with a manly, craftsman-like line, and wrapped her customer's food neatly.
“My hands are quite quick, but I can't get any better.”
She lightly commented, 'here ya go!” and handed the goods to Erio.
Just from this one scene, Maekawa-san appeared like Erio's senpai, or a college student older than she by three years.
As her inadvertent guardian, I opened my wallet and handed a thousand yen bill to the register.
“As for the change, just let me buy you a school lunch of equal price. How's that?”
“I'll gladly accept if it's Maekawa-san's handmade lunch.”
“Tch.” She tutted lightly, 'Jingle jingle~' she hummed out a register sound effect as she gave me the change: “You don't need the receipt, right?” She threw the paper away before handing it to me.
“Thank you.” Erio expressed her gratitude, her voice slight like a ring finger's motion.
“Don't mention it~ Believe it or not, my friends call me 'Maekawa the trouble-saver'!”
It's probably because 'the trouble is always somehow because of her~' or something like that — basically same as the saying 'you know it's Yahari~ (やっばり矢張)'? But that smug of superiority suits her, so I avoided talking as to not break it. [17]
“Ah, right. Careful that you don't get Touwa kidnapped!”
Maekawa-san began wiping the counter and gave a bizarre advice.
“What do you mean, kidnap?”
“A lot of animals went missing around here recently.”
“Animals? Like pet dogs?”
I pictured a culprit killing animals; a bitter taste spear in my mouth.
“No, wild animals like cats, dogs or the occasional weasel.”
“… Is it the EPA?” [18]
“Mm~ Doesn't look like it. I was thinking since Touwa is like an animal now, they might make a mistake.”
Maekawa-san happily continued her jabbing at the Erio, who hid behind me. Judging from this, she might actually like Erio? As expected of the master cosplayer Maekawa-san, being able to like the crazy girl who roams around town wrapped in futon. Or perhaps she thinks of her as a fellow enthusiast?
“Yep, I knew it. Looking at her trembling in tear; she's practically one of them.”
“Then her species must be space hamster!”
Wahaha~! We guffawed, despite of person in question glaringly at us resentfully.
“ 'Then, I'll see you at school.' “ After saying good bye, we left the store. Though Erio's expression seemed to darken when we spoke about 'school,' that might have just been the light outside that made her squint. The sun after the May rain also made me… Eh? Wasn't there something in the sky just a second ago?
It's too aerodynamic to be a bird, yet too small for a UFO.
“Thanks...”
Erio sat into the bike's basket, carefully holding the bag to her chest and thanked me.
“…For bringing me here.”
Afterward, she buried her face in her thighs, once again hiding her expression. She's embarrassed, right?
Girls who openly show their embarrassment are so cute~ my brain baked slowly in the sun.
Even for a person like her, at such a time my Youth-points will no doubt rise.
“...It's cool, but you have to pay me back later.”
I was definitely not hiding my embarrassment. Never.
There was a Seaweed-wrapped Chikuwa lying at the entrance of the Touwa household.
“…...”
“…...”
I looked at the Erio standing next to me; Erio was staring at it blankly.
“Do you have a twin sibling?”
“I had never split in half.”
Non, non, she shook her head. In other words, this is that? What on Earth is this forty year old thinking?
A profound omen hit me, looking at her appearance.
Every time her happiness rises, my youth sinks with the descending carts.
“Okay.” I took off my shoes first and put them away neatly, then step onto the hall. Affected by me, the slightly-slower Erio followed suit and also took hers off. I proceeded as Erio put her shoes away.
“Ah, uh… This...” Erio, who remained fixed, shot glances at her feet. Why would you do this? I wanted to complain, but the smart thing to do here is obviously to ignore these things!
Luckily, the futon with bare feet didn't move.
“Alright~ C'mon in. The house isn't messy, but it's not too big either.”
I quoted words someone said to me before, inviting Erio in. “Wuwu...” Erio stopped in her track, her reaction ambivalent. Fine, I'll leave you two alone! After excusing myself out, I strode forward. However, where in this house were my legs bringing me?
In contrast to the one from two months ago, the futon-roll that crawled up — Meme-san — cried 'Ugahh~!' and charged toward my direction for reasons unknown. Whatever it was, I ran. I looked back, the thing pursuing me had to be a Yokai. Please someone go and send a rescue notice to the Yokai Mailbox![19]
“Whoa! Go away!!”
“Her der you order me~!” I don't understand your raving!
I sprint through the hall, and jumped into the room on the left. Hm, as predicted, Meme-san can't turn. Step step step~ She charged without signs of slowing, 'smack!' came the sound of running into a wall. Let's take a look at the scene.
Maekawa-san once cried 'Gwaaah!' painfully in the night park, rolling around in an epic fail break dance. At this moment, a similar futon-roll version replayed at the end of the hallway. The roll crawled around, busily bouncing back and forth.
I pushed the futon-roll forward, transporting a pained Meme-san back into the living room. Even as she closed to the table, she still struggled, 'Wuwhooooa' as if she had a cramp.
It made me think of the katsuobushi that would dance on iron plates. [20]
Perhaps to follow her daughter's footstep, Meme-san popped her head out after a while, tongue sticking out, 'ahh~' from top of the roll. Sweat drops formed on her forehead, and her cheeks swelled in redness:
“I bit my tongue. Mako-kun, smooch me.”
“Smells like blood, so I'll pass.” And I don't want to have my first kiss stolen by my aunt either. Feels like I might have to lose some ridiculous amount, like twenty five points.
“Speaking of which, it's so hot in here. I can't believe Erio could stand it.”
“Feels like you might dry out.” If I said her skin, I would probably be strangled.
“So, what were you doing? Learning by experience?”
“Because I figured, isn't 'a pretty girl popped out of the futon!' the best gap-moe?
“That's the route your daughter left two months ago.”
And the noun 'pretty girl' doesn't extend to people of all ages.
“I also wanted to express my dissatisfaction with the world.” To prevent our eyes from meeting, I glanced at her sideways.
This isn't how a forty-year old should express her dissent. But more basically, I don't think a normal adult would run into a wall and then struggle on the floor.
“But I can't see Erio or Mako-kun's face like this, so it's kind of troubling!”
Meme-san crisply spat out some slightly embarrassing words without looking bashful:
“So, where did you two sneak off to?”
She pouted her cheeks, as if she would yell 'you aunt wanted to go too~!' any time, while swinging her arms and legs. I bet this person's attitude probably won't change even when she hits fifty!
“We just went to buy stuff.” Whether this counts as a date differ person by person, but this time probably isn't.
“Oh (you went to get some porn mags)!” She nodded deeply, conveying her comprehension.
“Could you not make weird explanations?” Besides, no one would invite girls to do that kind of stuff.
“Oh~ I get it. You're preparing for our first date by having a drill.”
“ 'No!' “ Meme-san received a pincer attack of denial. Erio, who came into the living room, refuted her mother's joke. Sigh, at least I think its a joke. For a brighter future, I will kill off the possibility!
Erio sat down next to Meme-san; Meme-san didn't seem to want to take off the futon, and she slowly turned toward her daughter like a pair of compasses.
“Welcome home!” She greeted elegantly. What did Erio think of her mother, seeing her like this? From her contained, expressionless face, traces of emotion were hard to find.
For example, I attempted to picture my mom welcoming me home dressed like a spiral bread. 'Welcome home!' ...I will for sure immediately enter the rebellious phase. Mm, it's a mental form of domestic violence. I will not accept it, even if someone tells me it's the real life version of 'The Metamorphosis' by Kafka.
“I'm… Home.”
An anxious Erio squeezed out a few dry words of greeting. Maybe Meme-san's unwavering and amicable disposition is actually abnormal here. How does she act so naturally then?
“Stare~”
Meme-san stared at Erio's knee. Erio couldn't find a proper reaction, so she cowered. Along with Meme-san's outfit, the situation looked like a diagram of a frog gawking at a snake. With no intention of being the slug, I began the search for the T.V. remote. I suspect this will turn into a war of attrition. [21]
Yet the circumstance wasn't so. On a more fundamental level, Meme-san never needed a defensive stance.
“Lick!”
She did it: like a snake, Meme-san wriggled forward, her tongue making an advance on Erio's right knee. “Uwah!” Erio jumped backward. She backed into the wall, leaving particles in the dust of her trail.
Erio's eyes widened as she clutched her chest, signifying her perturbed state.
“This skin… The smooth taste of youth! Erio, Eri~o!”
“Who are you calling that?” And you should start your shedding! Are you that into futon mode?
“I am so jealous!” The honest Meme-san hopped about. It must be someone with a personality about thirty times worse than hers that fed Snow White the apple. But with the result in mind, didn't the whole process lead to the Snow White's first-sight love with the prince? Fate is honestly easily summed up with the word 'inconceivable.'
Seeing Erio unconsciously wiped at her right knee, Meme-san grumbled, “Super~ shocking~” and wormed to my side. I sensed that she planned to lick my knee, so I lifted my legs while watching her mouth, showing full-alert.
“Anyway, when do you plan on taking care of me, Mako-kun? Take this! Princess carry!”
My body shook. Since the damage is reduced like this, I changed my mind — maybe it's better for her to stay like this.
“Didn't I roll you here just now?”
“Ehhh~ You are a complete failure when it comes to taking care of girls, Mako-kun~”
“This is the only way to treat a woman donned in futon — your daughter taught me this!”
And the lady in question is also hunched over, like a kid inching toward a leashed mutt, closing in to Meme-san at snail speed.
“Ah… Even my own daughter is wary of me. Onee-chan is so sad that no one understands me.”
“You reap what you sow...” And you don't understand your own worth. Lets leave it at that.
Perhaps taking her mother's joke seriously, Erio scrambled to the front of Meme-san. Hm, how pure of her. If I didn't know about the situation two months ago, and instead met the her today for the first time, I may mistake her for a shy yet loving daughter. Actually, she's that! The futon you leave in the closet — the people worse than those who become useless outside of their house.
“Um, happy… Birthday.”
“Oh my~ Thank you!” Arcing like a shrimp, Meme-san lifted her chins and cracked a wrinkle — pretending that never happened, she kept smiling.
“But I'm not happy at all...”
She maintained the smile and drawled out a curse. Emotion-contradicting expression spooked Erio, but she still carried the present to Meme-san's face. “Sniff, sniff~” Meme-san sniffed the food as if it's courtesy. Stop that!
“I went to buy… Dango. Um...” Guh! Erio choked, and her shoulders stiffened. “Mom...” She then slouched, “favorite.”
“Kyah~ Eri-chan! Is this a confession of love to your sister — no, mom?”
...Mm? Well, I guess the phrase could indeed be interpreted as “I went to buy dango because mom is my favorite” instead of “because mom's favorite is dango.” Japanese is like a split end on a hair when it comes to delivering a message.
Erio's face burst into crimson, and she hid her face using the cooking magazine resting on the table. Was hiding her face how Erio disguises her embarrassment? Or was it a defensive maneuver?
But what bothered me more was, Erio's nickname is Eri? Ecchan or Rio-chan works too, right? If you really want to surprise people, Orie works too. Though that's someone else at that point. [22]
“Eri-chan is still so cute! Glad you look like mom!”
Hm~ hm~ Meme-san nodded proudly, even bouncing her body around. She looked pretty happy! Or just someone who wants to convey how energetic she is with the baseline being fresh fish? Although shouldn't it be both when it comes to this person? I honestly couldn't convince myself otherwise.
Happiness-points increases by three~ I attempted to replace her role, playing out the cue.
“Speaking of birthday, we forgot to celebrate Erio's last year. Let's celebrate tomorrow as your birthday!”
This mother suggested a completely incomprehensible yet overall great idea; her daughter beamed.
“Do you want… Dango?” “Yes, I do!” Meme-san put on an innocent face in approval. In asking for comment of her childish behavior, she shot me a look of 'how's this?' to which I only shook my head.
Erio opened the package; Meme-san went from 'sleep' to 'sit.' Erio picked up a skewer, ready to give to Meme-san. The act and expression was like a child's during Mother's day, when she wants to help out in the kitchen: clumsy yet diligent.
Meme-san gazed at the process with a faint smile.
“...”
But all~ she~ did~ was~ watch. With the futon blocking, her arms couldn't reach outward for the dango. She ruined it. And she didn't look like she was going to take it off. She must really like this outfit. Is futon really this wonderful?… No way, I want to try it on too. Hm.
As I fell into contemplation, Erio, with the dango in hand, became more and more confused; even the sauce was on the verge of dripping off the five-in-one skewer. Does she need help? After all, it looked like cleaning up the aftermath was up to me anyway.
“Why not just have Erio feed Meme-san?”
“Eh?!” Erio shot me a surprised look. What, is it really that rare for me to say something smart?
Well, we did jump into the sea before.
“Ara~ I miss this. I used to do this for Eri-chan a really, really long time ago~!”
Meme-san blinked passionately, and “Ahh~” opened her mouth: “Ah… Mako-kun, you're making me blush, don't look~” I'm even more mortified being forced to listen to you say that!
Erio trembled to deliver the dango into Meme-san's mouth. What would happen if it was stabbed in there? Likely like the pirate in the barrel.
“Chomp!” The first three dango disappeared into Meme-san's mouth. The remaining two was pushed forward by a wincing Erio so it'd be easier to eat. Meme-san stuffed these two as well, her cheeks puffing out. “Is it good?” Listening to Erio's query, Meme-san answered, “Mer cherks are going to fall erff.” Actually, looking now, if I were to pinch her cheek, they might actually get pulled off like clay.
“Glance~ glance~” Um, she's making sound effects while staring at me. She's not even blinking. Is she waiting for me to say 'the sound effect is wrong”? Or is she…
I brought a skewer near her lips, and she bit at it. Same-san (鮫さん), I mean, Meme-san added more brethren to the dango bunch before swallowing those in her mouth.
Two more skewer of Mitarashi dango and her face would become dango itself. It doesn't matter how you put it, this isn't how a forty-year old should act. Should I flatter her, 'you're still young'? Or should I say 'please think about your age!' to give rise to her killing intent? Reticence is the wise thing, right? As I came to my conclusion, Meme-san choked on the dango. “Uguuh~!: Her throat bulged into the shape of the final boss laying eggs.
Erio, at loss of what to do. Me, waiting and watching. Meme-san, absolutely freaking out.
After about ten seconds, the event ended in the form of Meme-san swallowing all of the dango.
“That was close! If I died like that, they're gonna think it's an accident or a murder!”
Meme-san didn't particularly seem like she's joking, passively describing her thought on suffocation.
“…...Hahah.” A weak, yet pure smile spilled from within.
Here it is.
To me, the Touwa household became a place that is slightly, if not appropriately, rowdy.
Yet my Youth-points and independent life are still miles away.
I’ve turned forty! Forty! Kyaah~ Eeyaah~ Gyaah~! Forty — a demonic number capable of bringing down a corrupt government; it’s a number encapsulating the bounty and depth of not just life, but of history. People lose their immaturity here, and step onto the stairway to adulthood. Kyaah, what smooth skin! I’m so jealous! Dammit, even if she’s my own daughter, that look is just too damn much!
“Don’t steal my monologue!”
And what the hell is up with you replacing the chapter title with screaming? …I don't know what I'm saying either; it's like my mouth was possessed by a necromancer.
…Alright, start over. Hi, I’m Niwa Makoto. At the moment, the room is about forty times noisier.
Today – Sunday, June sixth — a certain forty-year old child was yelling her afternoon away. It was annoying. She came into my room, riled up the dust and crawled around on the bed like a beached shrimp. It would appear to be a futile struggle against the changing of her age.
As a side note, there’s some medicine patch on her feet. It looked kinda depressing.
“What a cruel world~ uwooo~wuu. If time and story could stop, I could be forever thirty nine. My dream of spreading 'thirty-nine year old business card'[1] in the town is over.”
Sniffle~ Touwa Meme-san spat out her absurd wish. She’s my aunt (おばさん), and there is no way a ‘ka’ is between the two kana’s. Since her name might begin to appear in the examples of the definition of forty-years old, my peaceful life is threatened. [2]
“Ahh~ Wuu~ Forty… Elliot is also forty, Hoshimimi is also forty. Onii-san is also forty two… Ohohohoh!” She buried her face into the pillow, an eerie smile crept up on her face. This way, she wasted her move. But in the time of each of my move, she has triple the amount of action – What energy. Well, not like I know what’s happening!
“Meme-san, please go back!” Shoo~ Shoo~ I put out my stance of eviction. It, however, has never worked.
“If you don’t call me Meme-chan or Honey, I’m not going to listen! Hmph!” Just as the sound effect suggested, she looked to the side.
Change your honey-smothered-brain behavior, ya forty-year old! I’m the one who wants you out of the house!
“Honey~ (the hell’s wrong with me)”
“Heck no! You sound perverted!”
She just grew in some unnecessary direction, compare to before. Sigh… I guess it’s pretty impressive, growing at all at her age.
“Don’t give me that look. My skin is actually so good that some people call me the smooth-skinned sensei! Don’t be shy, come here… Come here~”
I wanted to silently leave her alone, but Meme-san talked like she won’t accept a second of pause: “My~ Don’t be shy! Even though loving your dad’s sister is just as bad as falling in love with your own dad, endearing names are completely fine!” Her raving bloated like marshmallow, pressuring the air and my stomach.
She’s done: she's not at all mature, and it’s going to be terrible if nothing is done. Looks like I have to say something. If this goes on, misunderstanding will occur between us and the neighbors, and there will be no more weekends.
“…Meme-chan.”
“Badump~ (star)” Crap.
I’m going to kick her. And not just her shadow.[3]
“Please stay in your room quietly.”
“Am I not~?”
“In your room… Quietly. What you just said isn’t true, but it isn't a lie either, so I wanted to point out one of the problems, but neither way works!”
“La~La~ I can’t understand your tirade~”
Slip~ Meme-san, who gave up on talking, slid closer and pounced me. “Heeyaw~!” She carefully closed the novel I was reading and tossed it toward the bed.
Oh no, Kikkawa Eiji flew off… Not that I’m passionate enough for this author to cry out like that. I’ve already read a few of his books, but his style is still too wordy. His wordiness is, however, pretty popular in a lot of places.
In the end of the book that just flew off, the main character defeated the weapon-wielding killer with a shoe. There should always be a limit to fickleness. Maybe it’s a mutant of the phrase “Pen is mightier than a sword”?
“There are bigger things, Mako-kun. Comfort your aunt whose Happiness-point is dropping because of sadness!”
She shot me a smile that begged for pity. Ugh, listen: people who are traumatized shouldn’t smile like that. That aside, what the hell is this point that scales inversely with mine?
“For the sake of convenience, I will name it 'an unbelievable feeling that strikes my heart, warms my skin, and upsets me when it’s gone.'”
“Don’t read garbage and use it as explanation.”
“C’mon! Licking, touching or crying, whatever you like!”
My kind aunt purposefully informed me of activities that would lead to the loss of Youth-points.
“Then I choose to back off.” Omitting the specific, I dodged the oncoming danger. Keeping the sum as zero when dealing with Meme-san is actually considered as great fortune.
“How terribly cold of you. You must have been raised in a fridge!”
“It’s better than a certain aunt who’s like an onigiri in the summer sun.”
“Why did I have to be forty? Thinking carefully now, wouldn’t my age and Erio’s add up to fifty five? That’s like Area 51, isn’t it? Creepy. Or better yet, Erio 51.[4]
“It’s a bit of a pain to think about what you’re talking, so can I not?”
“Of course not~” From that fresh tone, I failed to sense the necessity for consultation.
“I see… The numbers don’t add up though. Shouldn’t Erio be sixteen now?” She’s my age.
“I’m thirty nine~!” Meme-san violently raised her hand. If there was a short-legged table there, she would definitely flip it merrily.
“Don’t tell me, your birthday has a reentry point?”
“Birthdays are special occasions. What’s so wrong about being thirty nine for that day anyway~?”
She rolled around, exhibiting an act of groveling that was obviously carefully deliberated. Judging from how she didn’t hope to be twenty nine, I could see her modesty. But I wished that she wouldn’t ask for my agreement. How in the world do you want me to response?
“Uh, hm. Anyway, happy birthday.”
‘You are a negative jerk, Mako-kun! Just as I thought!”
Meme-san bolted out of the room after leaving those words. How rude — I have +1 point right now. I counted again back in May when I was bored in the hospital, so I should be right. By the way, because it was too complicated, I didn’t calculate the total of when people came to visit me. But those points were probably canceled out by Ryuushi-san and Nasukawa-san’s attack. [5]
Bam bam~ Unlike her name suggests, Meme-san ran downstairs valiantly, and then ran back up humming ‘Lalala~’. She quietly peeked inside in the hallway. Every time she does something like that, bad feelings and memories surface in me. This kind of sensation is like seeing a single black spot on the radio exercise attendance card. [6]
“I forgot to tell you, Mako-kun – No, Mako-chan!”
“What?” Changing my name was definitely pointless.
“The blanket is covered with my smell, so you can sniff it all you want!”
“Wha~ahhh~!”
My reaction was supposed to be filled with a mountain of exclamation marks, but since this topic is filled with too much pain, I could only scream.
“Wuhaha! Ah~ It’s great to help someone!”
Meme-san rolled her shoulders, this time disappearing into the hallway and down the stairs with a demeaning smug.
Look at you – so you are worried about being forty. I didn’t even have the strength to make a retort to her back. Are human really capable of doing things they will never regret? I shifted blame to the difficult ethics in life, wanting to lament on various things. I made the decision to never lie down on that bed today.
…And then —
A person rolled through the hallway — as if trading place with Meme-san — from the neighboring room.
She was the futon-wrapped mini crazy girl, the daughter of that person just now. Speaking of which, would Touwa Erio end up like that in twenty years? No, think of it the other way – Meme-san was Erio twenty years ago. Hm~ it should be registered as one of the world’s Seven Wonders. In Ryuushi-san’s words, this is the mystery that exists around us.
With a cartwheel, Erio invaded my room, moving toward the target that was the center. She staggeringly stood up, almost sending the feathers out, and slid. Her legs seemed to be numb from kneeling down.
“Fufufufu…” Erio sneered cockily… Wait, maybe the numbness made her moan, 'Wuwuwu...’ sounding like the muffled laughter of a merciless antagonist with flu behind a futon.
Her right leg twitched, and the other kept a subtle arc. That must be the afflicted one. She lifted the blanket… Or rather, her whole body; but gravity had the upper hand, and she filled the space between her and the floor.
I’ll give you three minutes. I watched, yet Erio didn’t move. She seemed to have given up.
“Idiot.” People who are free 24/7 are irritating because of this: It’s habits like ‘what a pain, let’s just lie down here’ that are the worst. Yet, is is enviable, being allowed to do just that.
I helped Erio – or the blanket – up. The princess was, naturally, unhurt and indifferent. “Stick your head out.” And so, I commanded her as if summoning the Genie.
Swoosh~ Pah! Her head drilled upward, revealing only the face from the futon. Though expressionless, Erio — the embodiment of a pretty girl — was surprisingly earnest. This is like describing an apple, for example. Some people will emphasize on the redness or the size of an apple, but other than food novels or manga, no one will describe the species of apples in tremendous detail. Just like when writing about apples where most people would think of a red, palm-sized fruit, Erio’s appearance faithfully reproduces the hazy image that people have of a pretty girl.
Most men would probably think, ‘she’s super cute; I’ll take care of her,’ but I’m not one of them: I care more about the inside of a person. Well, not like I can assert that without a shard of doubt, but who cares? I changed my attitude arbitrarily:
“Why are you wearing the futon again?” Didn’t Denpa Onna end in the last volume?
“I’m the most comfortable like this.”
“You wanna decorate that hole in the wall? Whatever. You got something for me?”
Her dialogue didn’t stray to space, but was instead guided toward me, saving all the trouble of communication. However, I’m still not used to it. Or rather, I feel embarrassed to her answering me normally.
Why did her first impression have to be so intense?
Erio, who should be at her most comfortable, was squirming around restlessly, her gaze darting left and right.
"Today is Mom's..." Hearing something like that came out from her mouth was bizzare to me: sort of like something that looked wooden, but actually metalic. My days exchanging with Earthling Erio is still quite shallow.
"Birthday."
"Mmhm."
"...And?" She seemed to think that a single phrase would be enough to convey her intention: "...Everything else in the middle too." My comprehension isn't that good, so give me the accepted answer.
With a tinge of trouble on her face, Erio bit her lower lips and mumbled the missing link:
"The pastry."
"The pastry." I regurgitated pointlessly. For some reason, even the young high school guy with an overactive imagination found it difficult to picture Erio chowing down on snacks. Though I could picture her eating mochi, and stretching it out because the toughness. [7]
“Mom likes dango.” [8]
...Oh, I see. So we're celebrating? It should be fine if it isn't a cake, then, since dango's what she likes.
So, summarizing what Erio just said, I understood the purpose of she bringing up this topic… Hm.
“You want me to bring you there?”
“Mhm.”
“Ah—...Sure, whatever.”
Like sunlight reverting from dusk to noon, rays shot out from Erio. The particles of light sensed her reaction, and gathered on specific spots of her skin.
Perhaps recovered from numbness, Erio successfully stood up this time and hurried to the doorway.
“Oi, take the futon off first.”
“Guu!”
Though dissatisfied, she looked away as if remembered something.
“What's wrong?”
“Cousin.” Erio gazed at my eyes. Even the color of her irises was deep as if refined by extraterrestrial means. Water in her eyes gleamed chrome and clear; drinks filled with solvent are incomparable to it.
“What?”
“The futon has my smell. Do you want it?”
“You two got something wrong — I am not a sniffer.” [9]
The answer opposite of your thought is so wrong, yet so right.
The new bicycle showed me worlds that I almost forgot.
Wheels that will actually follow the chain, handles that don't feel sandy, frame with no rust or shedding, basket with perfect paint, and the Erio inside of it — the last one was extra!
After my forceful removal of the futon (as a side note, her struggle, 'hng~ hng!', was cute) Erio obediently went out with me. She didn't sit behind me, but instead stuffed her butt into the basket naturally, waiting for the delivery. According to her, 'this is more comfortable.'
My cousin, who always prioritizes comfort, dismissed the white line that labeled sidewalk. Looks like rigorous effort is required to change her life for the better. Since this mission was not obligatory, I wanted to take good care of all of my bones — including my healed right arm. The certain someone who wasted all my calcium is now considered my nemesis.
Sun shone high on the Saturday two weeks after raining season, ensuing the weather of May. The wind and light were pleasantly dry, removing only the extra moisture on skin. The end of spring is the best time to ride a bicycle to enjoy the breeze.
As I followed along the dike, as per Erio's direction, I saw an open ground below with a group of adults and children playing baseball. How nostalgic! Baseball was something of a football substitute back in elementary school, when all the footballs in the gym storage have been taken. [10]
Because we only had a total of six people from both teams, once three people land singles consecutively, we would have the outfielder come and bat. The result was ambiguous win/loss, but looking back now, isn't it pretty good to be able to kill time without arguments?
Kids tend to argue over the smallest things like winning or losing; although most are able to make up in weeks or months, there are cases when they will never speak again. Well, most people lose touch with their friends after graduating, but a happy farewell is always appreciated.
Since there wasn't any oncoming traffic, I had an overlook of the game. The tiny girl batter wore a red yukata, a pair of ukon geta, a construction helmet… A girl? Female? Her age was unknown. But the girl dressed in all that was batting, and she sent the ball flying to the left field. The batter stumbled because of the recoil at first, but immediately dropped the bat and sprinted forward. She made it to second base through the first, triumphantly raising her right hand. It looked like a mischievous Zashiki Warashi playing baseball. [11]
If that's so, then this might not be the little league, but the yokai league? Maybe it's more enjoyable than a field day in the grave yard? I came to my own conclusion despite of obvious facts. [12]
“Baseball...” Erio, who was stuffed int the basket, mumbled. The words unfiltered by futon sounded like notes played on a piano in staccato: they were clear, but vague in meaning.
“Do you like it?”
As I asked, Erio wildly shook her hair that was long enough to be a carpet. The game-watching was declared finished when I began looking at her hair. I rode across the bridge; the dyke disappeared.
“Were you ever in a club when you were still in school?”
Having a normal conversation with a girl riding on your bike — isn't this the promised land of Youth-points? Yet, the numbers showed no sign of changing due to her way of riding. Things are never as expected.
“Club… Astronomy club.”
“Ah, the quiet kind?” Just as I thought: space. So you do like that stuff.
“...I'm part of the go-home club that thinks 'I should have joined' with a smirk on my face.”
“...Is that so?” You'd still look like a painting with a creepy mug, right?
I followed Erio's instruction and entered what looked like the shopping district. Old shops that would treat shopping centers as enemies stood on both sides, and few with the shutters closed scattered here and there. Without fail, people standing by the stores and those in uniform riding on bicycles all turned their heads to gaze at the pretty girl in the basket. I felt awkward — definitely not about stupid things like 'I don't fit in this picture.'
On the southern part of the district, I parked in front of the pastry next to the bicycle shop. Through the window, the scenery inside the store seemed to emphasize the color white.
Written on the signboard outside was the introduction of strawberry daifuku and the new Dorayaki mochi. [13]
As a side note, the shop's name appeared to be 'Mars Globe.' As expected of the greedy town that want to grasp not only the locals, but also a different planet: even the naming has something to with space!
“This is the only pastry I know.”
“Really…? Well, I don't really care where we're going. Meme-san should be happy as long as you bought it for her.”
Maybe she'll even feel that her tears shed for the lamentation of being forty 'what a waste~' and moved to tears again for different reasons. No, not a chance. She shouldn't be the type to honestly accept a gift. Sigh, the thing Meme-san talked about before, the, uh, Happiness-point might rise?
Erio seemed embarrassed; her cheeks flushed pink. She covered her face with her hands, as if trying to hide her blush.
We went inside the gorgeous shop decorated with flags and hand-drawn advertisement, like a refurbished pachinko parlor.
“Welcome… Eh, don't I know you two?”
The white, round object that was initially wiping the display case greeted us cordially.
“...”
Hah? I have to describe? But, uh, it's just Maekawa-san wearing a daifuku skin.
“Hm~? Why are you just standing there, transfer student? …And the futon-roll, whoa! It's been a while since I've seen the content!”
“...Mm.”
Was Erio's calmness out of maturity? Or simply seeing the other person as a fellow cosplayer? Faced with the gaze of an old classmate, she actually realized her disgrace and hid behind me.
“Oh man, you are shy now! And so chummy with the transfer student, too, with this and with that~”
“N-no, our relation isn't based on love; it's mostly just familial! So, what is Lady Daifuku doing then?”
“Watch it there, this isn't a daifuku — it's a shiroko of a bocchan dango. Dango, not shirako!” [14]
She protested; her cheeks swelled as if stuffed with dango. I see, so that's a dango on her head.
“The two have totally different chewiness. You get me, transfer student?”
“Really? But you got powder on you.”
“It's just the paint falling off — this isn't exactly expensive.”
She stopped wiping the window and turned to face us. Maekawa-san was unfazed even when wearing this outfit that reduces both defense and coolness to minimum, standing tall with her back straight. Indeed, she lanky.
Rather than calling that a dango, isn't her outfit better suited as a yam? Let's keep this thought a secret.
“As you can see, I work here. A mascot is indeed a must-have in this time and age!”
“Right.” You just look like a ball for a game of pushball though.
“There are two more outfits for the Mugwort and red bean flavor, do you want to try it? Let's all be a skewer!” [15]
She gestured to the inside of the store. The illusion of a drama club called Wagashi store spread from the interior. Just like people who ask others to play football after school, she encourages people to cosplay on the weekend… Is this what the city is about? Hm, definitely can't let your guard down in the city: there are always cars zooming by the road, so a misstep is always deadly. In the country side, the worst that could happen is falling into the field along with the bicycle.
After her careful words of politeness, Maekawa-san pouted out of boredom and began taking care of her customers:
“Alright, what are you doing here?”
“Shouldn't there only be one thing a customer could be here for?”
“The most surprising answer: you're here to stare at me. Mm.”
“Unfortunately, it is the most unsurprising one: Erio is here to get some dango.”
I nudged Erio, who was hiding behind to avoid the gaze attack, onto the stage. Holding her shoulders, I made her face Maekawa-san. I could feel the stiffness of her shoulders from my palm.
Maekawa-san peered at Erio with a novel look, while Erio gingerly looked up to Maekawa-san like a blackmailed girl. Erio may be able to speak normally with her family, but with others, she becomes suffocatingly punctual.
From an outsider's view, if either of them were to represent Earth on the space council, confusion would sure follow.
“Touwa, huh… Heh~ where's the futon?”
“She doesn't wear it anymore, right?” At least outside of the house.
Erio looked down, her gaze escaping to the side, without uttering a word.
“Is it just Maekawa-san in the store? What about the manager?” Since there was not progress in our conversation, I had to say something to ease the awkwardness.
“The manager skipped out, so she asked me to open the store. It's been like this for a while now.”
This distribution of labor is messed up! And she agreed to it. What an annoyingly lenient worker. Does dressing up freely also make you more open-minded?
If I ditch Erio, she will never say her reasons of visiting here. And thus, I had to say, 'all right, what are you buying?' sort of like being her encouraging mother. What a troublesome person.
“Dango, um… I'm here for some Mitarashi Dango.” [16]
She finally kind of successfully spoke her intent to the white dango that called herself the clerk. Maekawa-san said, 'dango? Sure.' After letting her body bump into several places in the store, she opened up a display case:
“How many?”
“F…five sticks.” Erio shot her hand out abruptly, exaggeratedly stuck out all the fingers.
“Oh hoh, thank you!”
Maekawa-san responded with a manly, craftsman-like line, and wrapped her customer's food neatly.
“My hands are quite quick, but I can't get any better.”
She lightly commented, 'here ya go!” and handed the goods to Erio.
Just from this one scene, Maekawa-san appeared like Erio's senpai, or a college student older than she by three years.
As her inadvertent guardian, I opened my wallet and handed a thousand yen bill to the register.
“As for the change, just let me buy you a school lunch of equal price. How's that?”
“I'll gladly accept if it's Maekawa-san's handmade lunch.”
“Tch.” She tutted lightly, 'Jingle jingle~' she hummed out a register sound effect as she gave me the change: “You don't need the receipt, right?” She threw the paper away before handing it to me.
“Thank you.” Erio expressed her gratitude, her voice slight like a ring finger's motion.
“Don't mention it~ Believe it or not, my friends call me 'Maekawa the trouble-saver'!”
It's probably because 'the trouble is always somehow because of her~' or something like that — basically same as the saying 'you know it's Yahari~ (やっばり矢張)'? But that smug of superiority suits her, so I avoided talking as to not break it. [17]
“Ah, right. Careful that you don't get Touwa kidnapped!”
Maekawa-san began wiping the counter and gave a bizarre advice.
“What do you mean, kidnap?”
“A lot of animals went missing around here recently.”
“Animals? Like pet dogs?”
I pictured a culprit killing animals; a bitter taste spear in my mouth.
“No, wild animals like cats, dogs or the occasional weasel.”
“… Is it the EPA?” [18]
“Mm~ Doesn't look like it. I was thinking since Touwa is like an animal now, they might make a mistake.”
Maekawa-san happily continued her jabbing at the Erio, who hid behind me. Judging from this, she might actually like Erio? As expected of the master cosplayer Maekawa-san, being able to like the crazy girl who roams around town wrapped in futon. Or perhaps she thinks of her as a fellow enthusiast?
“Yep, I knew it. Looking at her trembling in tear; she's practically one of them.”
“Then her species must be space hamster!”
Wahaha~! We guffawed, despite of person in question glaringly at us resentfully.
“ 'Then, I'll see you at school.' “ After saying good bye, we left the store. Though Erio's expression seemed to darken when we spoke about 'school,' that might have just been the light outside that made her squint. The sun after the May rain also made me… Eh? Wasn't there something in the sky just a second ago?
It's too aerodynamic to be a bird, yet too small for a UFO.
“Thanks...”
Erio sat into the bike's basket, carefully holding the bag to her chest and thanked me.
“…For bringing me here.”
Afterward, she buried her face in her thighs, once again hiding her expression. She's embarrassed, right?
Girls who openly show their embarrassment are so cute~ my brain baked slowly in the sun.
Even for a person like her, at such a time my Youth-points will no doubt rise.
“...It's cool, but you have to pay me back later.”
I was definitely not hiding my embarrassment. Never.
There was a Seaweed-wrapped Chikuwa lying at the entrance of the Touwa household.
“…...”
“…...”
I looked at the Erio standing next to me; Erio was staring at it blankly.
“Do you have a twin sibling?”
“I had never split in half.”
Non, non, she shook her head. In other words, this is that? What on Earth is this forty year old thinking?
A profound omen hit me, looking at her appearance.
Every time her happiness rises, my youth sinks with the descending carts.
“Okay.” I took off my shoes first and put them away neatly, then step onto the hall. Affected by me, the slightly-slower Erio followed suit and also took hers off. I proceeded as Erio put her shoes away.
“Ah, uh… This...” Erio, who remained fixed, shot glances at her feet. Why would you do this? I wanted to complain, but the smart thing to do here is obviously to ignore these things!
Luckily, the futon with bare feet didn't move.
“Alright~ C'mon in. The house isn't messy, but it's not too big either.”
I quoted words someone said to me before, inviting Erio in. “Wuwu...” Erio stopped in her track, her reaction ambivalent. Fine, I'll leave you two alone! After excusing myself out, I strode forward. However, where in this house were my legs bringing me?
In contrast to the one from two months ago, the futon-roll that crawled up — Meme-san — cried 'Ugahh~!' and charged toward my direction for reasons unknown. Whatever it was, I ran. I looked back, the thing pursuing me had to be a Yokai. Please someone go and send a rescue notice to the Yokai Mailbox![19]
“Whoa! Go away!!”
“Her der you order me~!” I don't understand your raving!
I sprint through the hall, and jumped into the room on the left. Hm, as predicted, Meme-san can't turn. Step step step~ She charged without signs of slowing, 'smack!' came the sound of running into a wall. Let's take a look at the scene.
Maekawa-san once cried 'Gwaaah!' painfully in the night park, rolling around in an epic fail break dance. At this moment, a similar futon-roll version replayed at the end of the hallway. The roll crawled around, busily bouncing back and forth.
I pushed the futon-roll forward, transporting a pained Meme-san back into the living room. Even as she closed to the table, she still struggled, 'Wuwhooooa' as if she had a cramp.
It made me think of the katsuobushi that would dance on iron plates. [20]
Perhaps to follow her daughter's footstep, Meme-san popped her head out after a while, tongue sticking out, 'ahh~' from top of the roll. Sweat drops formed on her forehead, and her cheeks swelled in redness:
“I bit my tongue. Mako-kun, smooch me.”
“Smells like blood, so I'll pass.” And I don't want to have my first kiss stolen by my aunt either. Feels like I might have to lose some ridiculous amount, like twenty five points.
“Speaking of which, it's so hot in here. I can't believe Erio could stand it.”
“Feels like you might dry out.” If I said her skin, I would probably be strangled.
“So, what were you doing? Learning by experience?”
“Because I figured, isn't 'a pretty girl popped out of the futon!' the best gap-moe?
“That's the route your daughter left two months ago.”
And the noun 'pretty girl' doesn't extend to people of all ages.
“I also wanted to express my dissatisfaction with the world.” To prevent our eyes from meeting, I glanced at her sideways.
This isn't how a forty-year old should express her dissent. But more basically, I don't think a normal adult would run into a wall and then struggle on the floor.
“But I can't see Erio or Mako-kun's face like this, so it's kind of troubling!”
Meme-san crisply spat out some slightly embarrassing words without looking bashful:
“So, where did you two sneak off to?”
She pouted her cheeks, as if she would yell 'you aunt wanted to go too~!' any time, while swinging her arms and legs. I bet this person's attitude probably won't change even when she hits fifty!
“We just went to buy stuff.” Whether this counts as a date differ person by person, but this time probably isn't.
“Oh (you went to get some porn mags)!” She nodded deeply, conveying her comprehension.
“Could you not make weird explanations?” Besides, no one would invite girls to do that kind of stuff.
“Oh~ I get it. You're preparing for our first date by having a drill.”
“ 'No!' “ Meme-san received a pincer attack of denial. Erio, who came into the living room, refuted her mother's joke. Sigh, at least I think its a joke. For a brighter future, I will kill off the possibility!
Erio sat down next to Meme-san; Meme-san didn't seem to want to take off the futon, and she slowly turned toward her daughter like a pair of compasses.
“Welcome home!” She greeted elegantly. What did Erio think of her mother, seeing her like this? From her contained, expressionless face, traces of emotion were hard to find.
For example, I attempted to picture my mom welcoming me home dressed like a spiral bread. 'Welcome home!' ...I will for sure immediately enter the rebellious phase. Mm, it's a mental form of domestic violence. I will not accept it, even if someone tells me it's the real life version of 'The Metamorphosis' by Kafka.
“I'm… Home.”
An anxious Erio squeezed out a few dry words of greeting. Maybe Meme-san's unwavering and amicable disposition is actually abnormal here. How does she act so naturally then?
“Stare~”
Meme-san stared at Erio's knee. Erio couldn't find a proper reaction, so she cowered. Along with Meme-san's outfit, the situation looked like a diagram of a frog gawking at a snake. With no intention of being the slug, I began the search for the T.V. remote. I suspect this will turn into a war of attrition. [21]
Yet the circumstance wasn't so. On a more fundamental level, Meme-san never needed a defensive stance.
“Lick!”
She did it: like a snake, Meme-san wriggled forward, her tongue making an advance on Erio's right knee. “Uwah!” Erio jumped backward. She backed into the wall, leaving particles in the dust of her trail.
Erio's eyes widened as she clutched her chest, signifying her perturbed state.
“This skin… The smooth taste of youth! Erio, Eri~o!”
“Who are you calling that?” And you should start your shedding! Are you that into futon mode?
“I am so jealous!” The honest Meme-san hopped about. It must be someone with a personality about thirty times worse than hers that fed Snow White the apple. But with the result in mind, didn't the whole process lead to the Snow White's first-sight love with the prince? Fate is honestly easily summed up with the word 'inconceivable.'
Seeing Erio unconsciously wiped at her right knee, Meme-san grumbled, “Super~ shocking~” and wormed to my side. I sensed that she planned to lick my knee, so I lifted my legs while watching her mouth, showing full-alert.
“Anyway, when do you plan on taking care of me, Mako-kun? Take this! Princess carry!”
My body shook. Since the damage is reduced like this, I changed my mind — maybe it's better for her to stay like this.
“Didn't I roll you here just now?”
“Ehhh~ You are a complete failure when it comes to taking care of girls, Mako-kun~”
“This is the only way to treat a woman donned in futon — your daughter taught me this!”
And the lady in question is also hunched over, like a kid inching toward a leashed mutt, closing in to Meme-san at snail speed.
“Ah… Even my own daughter is wary of me. Onee-chan is so sad that no one understands me.”
“You reap what you sow...” And you don't understand your own worth. Lets leave it at that.
Perhaps taking her mother's joke seriously, Erio scrambled to the front of Meme-san. Hm, how pure of her. If I didn't know about the situation two months ago, and instead met the her today for the first time, I may mistake her for a shy yet loving daughter. Actually, she's that! The futon you leave in the closet — the people worse than those who become useless outside of their house.
“Um, happy… Birthday.”
“Oh my~ Thank you!” Arcing like a shrimp, Meme-san lifted her chins and cracked a wrinkle — pretending that never happened, she kept smiling.
“But I'm not happy at all...”
She maintained the smile and drawled out a curse. Emotion-contradicting expression spooked Erio, but she still carried the present to Meme-san's face. “Sniff, sniff~” Meme-san sniffed the food as if it's courtesy. Stop that!
“I went to buy… Dango. Um...” Guh! Erio choked, and her shoulders stiffened. “Mom...” She then slouched, “favorite.”
“Kyah~ Eri-chan! Is this a confession of love to your sister — no, mom?”
...Mm? Well, I guess the phrase could indeed be interpreted as “I went to buy dango because mom is my favorite” instead of “because mom's favorite is dango.” Japanese is like a split end on a hair when it comes to delivering a message.
Erio's face burst into crimson, and she hid her face using the cooking magazine resting on the table. Was hiding her face how Erio disguises her embarrassment? Or was it a defensive maneuver?
But what bothered me more was, Erio's nickname is Eri? Ecchan or Rio-chan works too, right? If you really want to surprise people, Orie works too. Though that's someone else at that point. [22]
“Eri-chan is still so cute! Glad you look like mom!”
Hm~ hm~ Meme-san nodded proudly, even bouncing her body around. She looked pretty happy! Or just someone who wants to convey how energetic she is with the baseline being fresh fish? Although shouldn't it be both when it comes to this person? I honestly couldn't convince myself otherwise.
Happiness-points increases by three~ I attempted to replace her role, playing out the cue.
“Speaking of birthday, we forgot to celebrate Erio's last year. Let's celebrate tomorrow as your birthday!”
This mother suggested a completely incomprehensible yet overall great idea; her daughter beamed.
“Do you want… Dango?” “Yes, I do!” Meme-san put on an innocent face in approval. In asking for comment of her childish behavior, she shot me a look of 'how's this?' to which I only shook my head.
Erio opened the package; Meme-san went from 'sleep' to 'sit.' Erio picked up a skewer, ready to give to Meme-san. The act and expression was like a child's during Mother's day, when she wants to help out in the kitchen: clumsy yet diligent.
Meme-san gazed at the process with a faint smile.
“...”
But all~ she~ did~ was~ watch. With the futon blocking, her arms couldn't reach outward for the dango. She ruined it. And she didn't look like she was going to take it off. She must really like this outfit. Is futon really this wonderful?… No way, I want to try it on too. Hm.
As I fell into contemplation, Erio, with the dango in hand, became more and more confused; even the sauce was on the verge of dripping off the five-in-one skewer. Does she need help? After all, it looked like cleaning up the aftermath was up to me anyway.
“Why not just have Erio feed Meme-san?”
“Eh?!” Erio shot me a surprised look. What, is it really that rare for me to say something smart?
Well, we did jump into the sea before.
“Ara~ I miss this. I used to do this for Eri-chan a really, really long time ago~!”
Meme-san blinked passionately, and “Ahh~” opened her mouth: “Ah… Mako-kun, you're making me blush, don't look~” I'm even more mortified being forced to listen to you say that!
Erio trembled to deliver the dango into Meme-san's mouth. What would happen if it was stabbed in there? Likely like the pirate in the barrel.
“Chomp!” The first three dango disappeared into Meme-san's mouth. The remaining two was pushed forward by a wincing Erio so it'd be easier to eat. Meme-san stuffed these two as well, her cheeks puffing out. “Is it good?” Listening to Erio's query, Meme-san answered, “Mer cherks are going to fall erff.” Actually, looking now, if I were to pinch her cheek, they might actually get pulled off like clay.
“Glance~ glance~” Um, she's making sound effects while staring at me. She's not even blinking. Is she waiting for me to say 'the sound effect is wrong”? Or is she…
I brought a skewer near her lips, and she bit at it. Same-san (鮫さん), I mean, Meme-san added more brethren to the dango bunch before swallowing those in her mouth.
Two more skewer of Mitarashi dango and her face would become dango itself. It doesn't matter how you put it, this isn't how a forty-year old should act. Should I flatter her, 'you're still young'? Or should I say 'please think about your age!' to give rise to her killing intent? Reticence is the wise thing, right? As I came to my conclusion, Meme-san choked on the dango. “Uguuh~!: Her throat bulged into the shape of the final boss laying eggs.
Erio, at loss of what to do. Me, waiting and watching. Meme-san, absolutely freaking out.
After about ten seconds, the event ended in the form of Meme-san swallowing all of the dango.
“That was close! If I died like that, they're gonna think it's an accident or a murder!”
Meme-san didn't particularly seem like she's joking, passively describing her thought on suffocation.
“…...Hahah.” A weak, yet pure smile spilled from within.
Here it is.
To me, the Touwa household became a place that is slightly, if not appropriately, rowdy.
Yet my Youth-points and independent life are still miles away.
