She Appreciate

“I-in other words! We’ve desperately endeavored to create a society

where you don’t have to work, so it’s completely absurd to be saying things

like, ‘You have to work!’ or ‘There’s no jobs!’”

A flawless conclusion. Work and you lose; work and you lose.

“Aaagh. You’re still rotten to the core.” The teacher unburdened herself of

a massive sigh but then smirked as if she’d thought of something. “If a girl

were to cook for you just once, maybe you’d think differently,” she said,

standing and shoving me along from behind, pushing me out of the faculty

office.

“H-hey! What are you doing? Ow! That hurts, I said!”

“Go to the Service Club and learn the importance of labor.” With a

viselike grip, she tightened her hand on my shoulder before following up with

a strong whap to shove me out of the room.

I turned back to voice a protest of What was that for? or something of that

nature, only to find the door slamming shut cruelly in my face. That was the

aforementioned rejection of any “arguments, disagreements, objections,

questions, or back talk.”

I considered for a moment perhaps skipping out of club time, but the

instant the thought crossed my mind, the shoulder she had just been

squeezing throbbed with pain. She’d probably punch me again if I ran away. I

couldn’t believe she’d managed to imprint that delayed-action agony in my

body within such a small window of time. What a terrifying woman.

I decided to show up at the mystery club I’d recently been forced to join

—the Service Club or whatever it was called. That was its name, but I had no

idea what we actually did. I was even more perplexed by the head of the club.

What the hell was her deal?

Yukinoshita was reading a book in the clubroom, as usual. We casually

exchanged hellos, and then I carried a chair over to a spot a little ways away

from her and sat down, pulling a few books from my bag. Now the Service

Club had entirely transformed into a Youth Reading Club.

So what were we actually supposed to do in this club, in the end? Where’d

all that talk about a competition go? The answer to my questions arrived

suddenly in the form of a visitor’s faint knock.

Yukinoshita’s page-turning hand paused, and she precisely inserted a

bookmark into her paperback. She then turned to the door and called: “Come

in.”

“P-pardon me!” squeaked a nervous voice. The door slid aside with a light

scrape, opening barely a few inches. A girl entered, almost squeezing through

sideways. The way she moved, it seemed as though she didn’t want to be

seen. Her chestnut-brown hair flowed down to her shoulders in loose waves,

and with every step she took, they swayed. Her eyes darted about as if she

was scouting out the area, her gaze never stopping to rest, and when her eyes

met mine, she let out a tiny squeal.

Was I some kind of monster?

“Wh-why is Hikki here?”

“Uh, I’m in this club.” And wait, does “Hikki” mean me? Who is this girl,

anyway? Quite frankly, I have no recollection of her at all.

I didn’t remember her because she was such a stereotypically modern high

school girl. I saw her ilk all the time. Basically, she was one of those

fashionable teenage girls. All of her clothes flagrantly disregarded the school

dress code: the short skirt, the three buttons open on her blouse, the necklace

sparkling on the chest peeking out of said blouse, the heart charm, and the

tawny hair bleached bright.

I didn’t associate with girls of that sort. Because I didn’t associate with

girls of any sort.

It seemed like she knew me, though, and I didn’t feel I could just ask,

Excuse me, who are you? But then I noticed the color of the ribbon on her

chest was red. In our school, each of the three grades were assigned different

ribbons, and that was how you could tell someone’s year. Red meant she was

a second-year, like me. The reason I noticed her ribbon straightaway wasn’t

because I was looking at her chest—it just happened to enter my field of

vision, okay? By the way, it was pretty big.

“Well, sit down.” I casually pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit.

I wasn’t being all gentlemanly to disguise my impure intentions. I want to

emphasize that it was, naturally, all out of sincere kindness.

Really, I’m a super gentleman. I mean, I dress like one all the time.

“Th-thanks…” She looked a little flustered, but she nevertheless plopped

herself down in the seat I’d offered

Yukinoshita, who was sitting opposite her, met her gaze. “Yui

Yuigahama, right?”

“Y-you know me?” Hearing her own name, Yui Yuigahama’s expression

suddenly turned bright. It seemed she regarded Yukinoshita’s recognition as a

mark of status.

“You know her name? Do you know all the students in this school or

what?”

“Not at all. I didn’t know you.”

“Oh…”

“It’s nothing to get upset about. I should have. I only didn’t because I was

disinterested in your stunted character. I had a strong, subconscious desire to

avert my eyes from you, but that was my weakness and my fault.”

“Hey, was that supposed to make me feel better? That’s a pretty terrible

way to comfort someone. That last part basically makes the whole thing my

fault!”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel better. I was just being sarcastic.”

Without even giving me a glance, Yukinoshita flicked back the hair that had

fallen to her shoulders.

“This club seems…kinda fun.” Yuigahama observed our interaction with

something of a sparkle in her eyes. Maybe she had a few screws loose.

“This experience isn’t particularly pleasant for me… In fact, that

assumption of yours is incredibly unpleasant.” Yukinoshita shot her a chilly

glare.

When the look hit Yuigahama, she became flustered, fidgeting and

shaking her hands wildly in front of her. “Oh! Well, um, like… I just thought

you guys seemed like you were really natural with each other. You know,

um… Hikki’s acting totally different from how he usually does in class, so I

was like, Wow, he talks!”

“Of course I talk.” Do I come off that lacking in communication skills?

“Oh, yes, I remember now. You’re in Class F as well, Yuigahama?”

“Huh? Is she?”

“You were aware of that, weren’t you?” Yukinoshita said, and Yuigahama

twitched in response.

Oh, crap.

I knew better than anyone else what if feels like when someone in your

own class doesn’t remember you at all. So, in order to spare her that pain, Idecided to lie.

“O-of course I was!”

“So why’d you look away?” Yuigahama cross-examined me intently.

“Isn’t that sort of thing why you don’t have any friends in our class? You act

so weird, it’s creepy.”

Oh, that condescending gaze was so familiar. There was indeed a girl in

my class who sometimes looked at me the way you’d look at something dirty.

She was part of the clique that often hung out with the soccer club or

whoever. Oh, I see. She’s my enemy, huh? My consideration had been wasted

on her.

“Slut,” I muttered.

Yuigahama snapped back at me. “Huh? What do you mean, slut? I’m still

a vir—Uh… Ah-ha-ha! N-nothing!” Her face flushed bright red as she flailed

her hands in an attempt to erase the word that had almost escaped her lips.

What a dumbass.

Yukinoshita butted in to save Yuigahama from her fit of panic. “That’s

not something you need to be embarrassed about. At your age, being a virg

—”

“Hey, hey, hey! What are you talking about?! Not having done it in your

second year is embarrassing! Yukinoshita, what does that say about my

hotness level?!”

“What a superficial system of values.” Whoa, I don’t know why, but

Yukinoshita’s frigidity just turned up a notch.

“Hotness level? Sounds like something a slut would say.”

“You said it again! I can’t believe I’m being called a slut! You’re such a

creep, Hikki!” Yuigahama moaned in frustration as she looked at me through

teary eyes.

“Me calling you a slut has nothing to do with my creepiness. And don’t

call me Hikki.” She was making me sound like a hikkikomori—one of those

shut-ins who never comes out of his room. Oh, so that was supposed to be an

insult. It was probably a derisive nickname the class had given me. What the

hell? That’s kind of mean. It almost made me want to cry. Talking behind

people’s backs is rude. So say it straight—right to my face. I can’t get hurt if

I don’t hear it myself. “You slut.”

“You…you really are a pain in the butt! And you’re seriously creepy!

Why don’t you just die?!”

I’m a pretty mild guy, and I never snap at anyone. I’m like a safety razor.

But that was enough to make even me go quiet. There are a lot of things out

there you just shouldn’t say to people. Words relating life and death, in

particular, can be particularly impactful. If you aren’t prepared to take

someone’s life with your own hands, then you should never say you will.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***