A Hard-Boiled (Self-Proclaimed) Guy Like Me Doesn’t Suit a Romcom-Style Youth - Chapter 16 & 17 & 18 & 19 & 20

Chapter 16: Butt

I see. So that’s how it is.

When I returned to the room, Masaki-san was burrowed into the futon, breathing softly in her sleep.

This is that thing. The shared-living trope where someone goes to the toilet and mistakes the room on the way back.

Good grief, what rom-com is this…

Since I couldn’t just leave her be, I shook Masaki-san’s shoulder.

“Masaki-san? Heey.”

“Nn—?”

Masaki-san tosses and turns restlessly. From her disheveled nightwear, the cleavage of her pure white chest said good morning.

It seems Masaki-san is the type who takes off her bra when sleeping.

Now then, what should I do after this?

Rip off the futon to wake her, or cover her back up so she doesn’t catch a cold?

Let’s be honest. I became reluctant to wake her, sleeping so defenselessly here.

To use an analogy, it’s like a phantom Andean toad hopped onto my palm by some mistake.

Shall I just sleep together with her?

No, that’s no good. I just met Masaki-san, and I haven’t even asked if she has a boyfriend. As a young lady from a distinguished family, it wouldn’t be strange if she had a fiancé. If I mess up, it’s a liability issue. I’d cause trouble for Yousuke-san, my guardian, too.

Well now, I’m in a bind.

As I folded my arms and thought, I felt a sudden chill down my spine.

Crap…

Because I had left the sliding door open, I hadn’t noticed that Mirai had entered at some point.

“Ah—, I thought you’d do it someday, but to think you’d screw up on the first day.”

“Mirai, it’s a misunderstanding. I absolutely did not bring her in, nor did I lay a hand on her. When I came back, she was sleeping for some reason.”

I took a Jurassic pose, like seen in a certain famous dinosaur movie, to explain the situation.

I want to avoid a scene of carnage. I want to remain good friends with Mirai. I don’t want to be despised due to a weird misunderstanding. Naturally, the same goes for Masaki-san. So I want to settle this situation peacefully somehow.

“Don’t treat people like dinosaurs. I know without you worrying. Sleepyhead Nako’s eccentric behavior didn’t start today.”

Saying that, Mirai stomped into the room and vigorously ripped the futon off the comfortably sleeping Masaki-san.

“Funyan.”

Having her blanket stolen, Masaki-san curls up like a cat. Thanks to that, her chest was hidden, but her yukata rolled up, leaving not just her thighs, but her butt completely exposed.

The thighs are well-fleshed and firm, very fine. The butt is magnificent too. Shape, color, and luster are all flawless. The white fundoshi (loincloth) tightened on the slightly reddish, peach-like butt is also good. The loosely tied fundoshi complements the artistic curves of flesh without ruining them, just like a celestial maiden’s robe.

“Perfect.”

“Ayata?”

“A-Ah. Sorry.”

I hurriedly turned my back.

“The fundoshi is for room wear. Outside she wears normal panties, so forget what you just saw.”

“Yes.”

Being glared at by eyes with the intensity of a jaguar, I can only nod.

That said.

A Yamato Nadeshiko’s underwear is a fundoshi. It suits her far too well; even if told to forget, it’s been burned firmly into my eyes.

It’s not my first time seeing a woman in underwear. Even not counting Mirai from when we used to bathe together long ago, I’ve experienced various things in Cicymel, from girls around middle school age to ladies with dynamite bodies.

From see-through negligees to T-backs. I’ve even received hospitality completely naked, but Masaki-san’s butt was more beautiful and sexy than any of theirs.

However, the “My Best Butt” in my life is Kuu.

The first spring festival I experienced in the Cicymel village. I was pestered to do a performance related to Japan, so I performed a dohyo-iri (ring-entering ceremony) and kids’ sumo with the village children.

There was no way the weak Ayata-kun could match the physical strength of children raised in the Andes Mountains. Among them, I was easily thrown by Kuu, who stood out in reflexes and stamina…

My vision blurred with tears of frustration. What lay ahead of my upward gaze was the light blue sky and an amber-colored butt with a handmade crimson mawashi biting into it.

That day, my body and soul fell to Kuu’s small butt.

It is my sweet and painful memory.

While I was immersed in light nostalgia, the offense and defense between Masaki-san, who still wanted to sleep, and Mirai continued in front of me.

“Come on, give up and wake up already.”

“No! Nooo! 5 more minutes, just 5 more minutes!”

Even with the blanket stolen, Masaki-san continues to resist. It seems she’s convinced she’s sleeping in her own room. Mirai tells the cruel truth to such a girl.

“This is Ayata’s room, you know? If you go back to your room, I’ll let you sleep for another 30 minutes.”

“Fue?”

Surprised, Masaki-san opened her eyes and turned her head, meeting eyes with me, who was secretly observing sideways.

“Good morning.”

“A-Ayataka-kun!? Eh!? Why!? Why!?”

“Um, just for the record, this is my room.”

“Hyau!?”

Realizing the situation, Masaki-san’s face turned bright red. Perhaps she was incredibly embarrassed, as she snatched the futon from Mirai’s hands and began to flail about, wrapping herself up from the head down.

Seeing the soles of her cute feet is part of the charm.

“You mistook the room while half-asleep again, didn’t you? Come on, you can stay covered like that, just go back to your room.”

Mozori. The futon moved. It seems she nodded.

“Ayata. I’ll bring a new futon cover, so hand over that one.”

“I don’t mind, so it’s fine as is, you know?”

I thought it was wasteful since it had only been used for one day, but Mirai gave me a scornful look and said one word.

“Pervert.”

Why!?

“You intend to smell Nako’s scent after this anyway, don’t you?”

“I won’t. Besides, even if you say she slept, it was only for the short time I was away, right?”

“I wonder. Anyway, I’ll come get it later. Here, let’s go, Nako.”

Masaki-san leaves the room accompanied by Mirai, still covered in the futon. Her appearance is just like a suspect arrested and being taken to a police car.

After a while, Masaki-san’s scream was heard from beyond the wall.

Well, we’re going to be classmates from now on, so I don’t want to continue the awkward atmosphere. I’ll follow up later.

Now then…

Still wearing my poncho, I lay down on top of the futon.

I said that to Mirai, but I didn’t say I wouldn’t go back to sleep.

A faint warmth remains in the futon. And a sweet scent too.

I absolutely did not intend to smell Masaki-san’s lingering scent. It was force majeure. It just happened to remain on the futon when I went back to sleep by chance.

Due to the extreme comfort, my consciousness falls away as if melting in an instant.

But that blissful time didn’t last long.

Heavy. Painful. Dark.

What is covering my face is a futon. But it’s too heavy for that. As if someone is pressing down from above…

“Fungaa—!”

“Nya!?”

With all my might, I threw off the person weighing down on me through the futon. Needless to say, the culprit is Mirai.

“Are you trying to kill me!?”

“Shuddup! This is what happens the moment I take my eyes off you. Perverts die. No mercy.”

Mirai is already holding the futon with the cover removed, poised to take the mount again.

I confront Mirai in the Jurassic pose again.

“Wait, going back to sleep is a legitimate right recognized for early risers. I absolutely didn’t have any guilty feelings.”

“Garurururu!”

“Got it. I’ll hand over the futon cover. So stay still.”

I obediently remove the mattress cover.

“Here. Is this fine?”

“Nn. Change and come to the living room by 7. We’re having breakfast.”

“Got it.”

After seeing off Mirai leaving the room with the futon cover in hand, I hung the poncho I took off on a hanger and picked up my uniform.

Well, if I were a rom-com protagonist here, I’d say something like “Tired from the morning,” but…

“Rom-coms aren’t bad either. I’ll brag to Jimmy next time.”

Jimmy is a member of the PMC hired to guard the village, and a genuine Japan otaku who loves Japanese anime and manga.

If he hears that I experienced a rom-com template as soon as I returned to Japan, he will surely be envious.

Imagining the face of a macho ex-soldier crying tears of blood, I couldn’t stop my face from grinning while changing clothes.

Japan. Is fun.

Chapter 17: Cuniraya

“Masaki-san. Good morning.”

“G-Good morning, Ayataka-kun…”

I met Masaki-san brushing her hair in the washroom, so I greeted her. It’s the second time, but it’s the samurai’s mercy. I acted as if the incident in the room never happened.

I thought if Masaki-san also pretended it didn’t happen, that would be fine, but Masaki-san is well-bred. Turning bright red, she bowed her bed-headed head toward me.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I was half-asleep, and accidentally…”

“Ah, it’s fine. I was even grateful to Cuniraya for letting me see something cute. Ah, Cuniraya is a moon god that appears in Incan mythology, and I make it a rule to pray when something good happens, playing on the words tsuki (moon) and tsuki (luck).”

“That’s a Japanese pun, isn’t it? Is there a divine favor? Japanese people don’t pray to Tsukuyomi-sama even if something good happens.”

“Those things depend on the mood.”

The moon and luck joke was something I said on a whim, but it’s true that I prayed frequently to Cuniraya when I was over there.

Cicymel is a country that resisted European domination until the end in the past, and beliefs continuing from the Incan civilization are still deeply rooted.

Sacrifices and such have naturally died out, but many people in Cicymel pray to the Sun God rather than Jesus.

I didn’t particularly get dyed in their culture or change my religion. I lived with the stance of a Japanese person living in Cicymel.

Before meals I said “Itadakimasu,” after eating “Gochisousama,” at the beginning of the year I clapped my hands in imitation of Hatsumode, and at Christmas I participated in parties held by my father’s researcher colleagues.

Why did someone like me pray to Cuniraya? Because Cuniraya is the god that became the origin of Kuu’s name.

I fell for Kuu, and started praying to the god that was the origin of her name.

It’s an extremely adolescent boy-like behavior. But I have no intention of being ashamed.

The two years chased by the mafia. Worrying about Kuu’s safety, I prayed almost every day.

I’m not that deeply religious a person. But since we shook off the mafia and were able to return to Japan safely, I can’t say there was no divine favor, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Masaki-san, who was looking down, is also laughing with a nice face now.

Oh Cuniraya. Thank you.

And Kuu. I want to hug you right now.

“Nako—! Ayata—! Hurry up and come help make bento!”

“Ussu.”

“Fuai.”

At Mirai’s voice echoing through the house, Masaki-san and I looked at each other as if coordinated and smiled wryly.

A student’s morning is busy. There is no time to leisurely exude a sweet and sour atmosphere.

Having finished washing up ahead of Masaki-san who was brushing her long hair, I headed to the kitchen in a hurry. There, Mirai was facing the stove and wielding a frying pan.

Lured by the nice smell of cooking eggs, I peeked and saw Mirai rolling the egg round and round with cooking chopsticks in a practiced manner. I end up captivated by the process of it being completed before my eyes.

“You’re skilled.”

Perhaps feeling good because I praised her, Mirai flashed a grin.

The apron over her uniform suits her to death.

What is this young wife vibe? Is Cuniraya trying to make me cheat?

“Want a taste?”

“Can I?”

“Because you’re special.”

I toss the cut-off edge of the rolled omelet (dashimaki tamago) into my mouth.

“Yum!”

“Alright!”

Mirai returns a full smile, perhaps satisfied with my reaction.

“Refill.”

“No way! This is a side dish for the bento, so hold back until lunch.”

Saying that, Mirai packs the finished rolled omelet into a jubako (tiered food box). The jubako is already packed with only side dishes like ohitashi, potato salad, and nuggets. There is quite a quantity, and it’s clearly not for one person.

“Could it be you’re making for three people?”

“Yeah. Until now, it was just Nako and me so we split bento boxes, but since Ayata is here too, I thought putting it all together would be easier. Let’s eat together when lunch break comes.”

Lunch eaten together with Mirai and Masaki-san must be very fun. Prepared for a lonely meal with bread from the school store, I rejoice internally at the unexpected invitation.

Oh Cuniraya. Isn’t this a bit too much service?

“A-Ah. Sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s fine. In the past, my parents were busy and could hardly come to sports festivals or school events, right? So, Grandma-sensei always made bento for me like this too, remember? It’s like returning that favor.”

“That was only until 2nd grade of elementary school, right? You remember such old things well.”

“I won’t forget. Besides, Grandma-sensei came to watch every year until the 6th grade sports festival.”

“Mirai is acting more like a grandchild than the real grandchild.”

“That’s right. Because I go to visit her often too. Unlike someone who didn’t show his face for five years.”

“U… My bad.”

Technically, I talk to Grandmother two or three times a year. Though it’s through a monitor…

Also, Grandmother seems to have watched my streams too. I didn’t show my face, and since it was Spanish, she watched dubbed versions…

But I’m better than Father, you know? That person just waves his hand in the background during video calls.

“Ayata. Since you’ve come back, you have to go see Grandma-sensei properly, okay?”

“Yeah. I’m using her house too, so I’m thinking of going on a day off from school.”

The facility Grandmother entered is on the outskirts of Toto City, and it’s difficult for a student without a car to go on the way home from school.

“So I have a request; could you go with me when I go to visit, Mirai? It’s kind of awkward going alone.”

“You know you’ll definitely be scolded, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

That’s the thing.

Grandmother is a kind but simultaneously strict person. Surely, she will scold me just like Nagisa-san did yesterday.

“Geez, Ayata is hopeless. Is next Saturday okay?”

“Yeah. That helps.”

“Can I go too?”

A mischievous white fish that appeared silently snatched away a slice of rolled omelet.

“Ah!? Hey!”

“Yum~”

“Geez!”

Needless to say, it is Masaki-san. Having finished the rolled omelet in one bite, Masaki-san licks her finger and sticks out her tongue (tehepero) toward Mirai, who is raising her eyebrows…

What is this cuteness?

Oh Cuniraya. Could it be you’re hooked on Japanese rom-coms?

Chapter 18: Rice Balls (Omusubi)

“Masaki-san too? Are you okay with that even on your day off?”

“Mi-chan and I had originally been talking about going on Saturday.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.”

It seems Mirai and Masaki-san had intended to go visit Grandmother together. It looks like I was the one who intruded on their plans.

“I kind of feel bad.”

“It’s fine. If you looked free, I was planning to drag you along forcibly anyway, Ayata.”

“Yeah, yeah. Since you might be busy with moving or make-up lessons for missed classes, we planned to check your status before inviting you.”

“If there are make-up lessons, prioritize those, of course.”

True, there will probably be some make-up lessons for the classes I missed. That said, it’s just started, so they should only be doing basics.

Before sleeping yesterday, I lightly tried my hand at the assignments; English was a breeze. Math and science I could solve without problems. Classical literature and history were difficult, but for memorization subjects, I should be able to recover with daily study.

“Got it. If talk of make-up lessons comes up, I’ll decline.”

“Oi. Were you listening to people?”

“It’s bad to make the teachers work on a holiday too. I can make excuses like moving isn’t done and I don’t have a bed at home, and if I say I’m going to visit my grandmother for the first time in five years, they should accept it.”

“I don’t know if you get held back, okay?”

It’ll be fine. Probably.

“Even though Mirai and Masaki-san are busy, you’re going out of your way to visit. There’s no way I can’t go.”

“Ah, for us it’s…”

“Nako! Not yet with that story!”

“Ah, yeah. Sorry, Mi-chan.”

Masaki-san started to say something, but Mirai hurriedly covered her mouth.

What? What on earth?

“Sorry, Ayata. Once we get permission from Grandma-sensei, we’ll tell you properly.”

“Ah, okay.”

Later, when I heard the story, I would be quite taken aback, but I think I’ll tell that another time.

“By the way, Mi-chan. I’m hungry.”

“You child… Stop complaining and mold rice balls. Once the jubako is full, you can eat the surplus. You too, Ayata.”

“Okaaay!”

“The rice in the ohitsu is already salted, so use whatever filling you like.”

“Ou.”

On the table, rice in the ohitsu, nori seaweed, and fillings were already prepared.

Fillings were pickled plums (umeboshi), grilled salmon, and salted kelp (shiokombu). The homemade umeboshi looked sour enough to make saliva overflow just by looking at them.

I spread plastic wrap on my palm, place rice, and put the filling on top.

For grilled salmon, a piece about the size of a fingertip; for umeboshi, split in half with chopsticks and remove the seed.

After lightly molding it to wrap the filling, peel off the wrap once, wrap with nori, and mold. The size is small and barrel-shaped to fit the jubako.

If we don’t hurry, we won’t get any breakfast. Masaki-san and I diligently molded rice balls.

“Nngh!”

There’s no way Masaki-san, a glutton despite her face, wouldn’t snack. She’s sucking on an umeboshi seed, making her mouth into an asterisk (*).

I also put a seed with some flesh remaining into my mouth. I like umeboshi, and in the past, I often ate homemade umeboshi pickled by Grandmother.

Souuuuur!!

Instantly, my mouth becomes an asterisk (*).

Yes, this! It’s Grandmother’s taste!

“Sour, right? They’re plums from Ayata’s house pickled last year.”

“I knew it! I thought it was a nostalgic taste.”

“Since it’s a direct transmission from Grandma-sensei. We’re allowed to harvest the plums every year too.”

Mirai, who filled one tier of the jubako with side dishes, joined the rice ball making. We continued molding with single-minded devotion, and two tiers of the jubako were packed with rice balls.

“Isn’t this a lot?”

“Each one is small, and we have PE in 4th period today, so we’ll get hungry, you know?”

“I see. Are those for Yousuke-san and the others?”

“That’s right.”

Yousuke-san and Nagisa-san, who worked late into the night, seem to be still asleep. For the two who will wake up later, Mirai separates the ones she molded herself onto a plate with side dishes and covers them with plastic wrap.

“Mi-hyan is kind.”

Masaki-san is stuffing her cheeks with an extra-large rice ball she apparently molded for herself.

When did you mold that?

The ohitsu is splendidly empty. The somewhat remaining filling is probably inside that rice ball too.

“Come on, if you don’t eat too, Ayata, Nako will eat them all, okay?”

“Ah. What about Mirai?”

“I’ll eat after clearing the sink.”

Saying that, Mirai keeps a rice ball and heads to the sink.

I bite into my share too.

Salted kelp is delicious. The flavor of the nori that has become moist and familiar with the still-warm rice is irresistible.

Finishing the washing, Mirai returns. A teapot in hand.

“Do you two want tea?”

“Please.”

“Me too.”

“Nn.”

Masaki-san and I, teacups in hand, sip the tea Mirai poured and sigh in relief.

“Mirai hasn’t eaten yet, right? Is there enough time?”

Mirai, who was chased by cleaning up after bento making, hasn’t finished breakfast yet.

Looking at the time, it’s already past 7:30. The bus stop is right there, but there isn’t much time.

“It’s fine. I’ll finish quickly.”

Mirai looks composed. In her hand is a rice bowl with a rice ball in it.

Wondering what she would start, she poured tea over it, broke up the rice ball, and began to shovel it down all at once.

“Gochisousama deshita! Okay, shall we go!”

I’ll do that next time too.

(Note: Eating rice balls quickly carries a risk of choking. Please absolutely do not do it.)

Chapter 19: Going to School

We arrived at school 20 minutes before homeroom started. In front of the school gate were students going to school.

Even though almost everyone had black eyes and black hair and wore the same uniform, the world spreading before my eyes was brilliantly colorful.

Both the students and the school building, bathed in the morning sunlight, were far more beautiful than yesterday.

“Beautiful…”

“You really are a weird guy.”

The moment I said it aloud, Mirai interjected from the side.

“You don’t realize it when you live through it as a matter of course.”

“When Ayataka-kun, who was overseas, says it, it sounds somewhat deep.”

“I don’t mean to compare it to where I was. I was just moved because the scenery I longed for was right there.”

Originally, I didn’t like school that much. It’s just a story of how, while watching Japanese anime on the internet, I came to long for the sparkling youth of Japanese students.

Without being chased by the mafia, without pointing guns or having guns pointed at me—

A world where one can simply pursue their dreams purely—

“Hmm. Well, maybe I understand that a little. Because I also longed to enter Toko.”

“Toko” is the general abbreviation for Toto High School.

“Come to think of it. I assumed you would go to a city girls’ school for young ladies, Mirai, so I was surprised when I heard from the teacher yesterday that we’re at the same school.”

“Hah!?”

“Pfft.”

Mirai widened her eyes at my words, and Masaki-san burst out laughing slightly.

“Why would you think that!?”

“Because you’re a young lady (Ojou-sama), Mirai. And the heir to a famous inn. I thought it wouldn’t be strange if you were saying ‘Gokigen’you'(It’s a pleasure to meet you) at a girls’ school.”

“‘Gokigen’you’ doesn’t suit me, does it?”

“Is that so? You only play pranks on me, Mirai; you were kind and a good girl to other kids, learned tea ceremony and calligraphy, and actively participated in helping with the family business. I think you’re being a proper young lady.”

“Wha—!? I never even thought about that.”

Masaki-san is nodding beside her. No, no, you too, okay? Why is the princess of the neighboring town going out of her way to lodge here just to attend Toko?

“Right. Cute, good at cooking, and anzan-gata (child-bearing hips)! Rather than me who is a Yamato Nadeshiko in appearance only, Mi-chan is far more of a Yamato Nadeshiko.”

“Hyaa!? Nako—!?”

“Aha!”

Masaki-san casually smacks Mirai’s butt. She uses me as a shield to dodge the counterattack from the angry Mirai.

I have no intention of blaming Masaki-san for the sexual harassment. The frolicking of beautiful girls is precious.

Other students are also watching Mirai and Masaki-san with warm eyes. But stop looking at me with eyes saying ‘Who the hell are you’!

“That’s enough, you two. It’s a nuisance to others, so let’s go quickly.”

“Oops! That’s right. Nako, remember this later.”

“Yes, yes.”

If I show an opening, I’ll get entangled. With a tension as if walking through a slum, I entered the school gate while trying not to get separated from the two.

Also, the reason Mirai came to Toko became clear.

“Hey, do you remember the older sister who used to live in the neighborhood?”

“Ah. The group walk-to-school leader?”

I dig up memories from nearly 10 years ago.

“Yeah. That’s right. I used to watch that older sister going to Toko with her boyfriend every day. I thought it was nice.”

“You’re a maiden.”

“She’s a maiden.”

“What was that—!”

Masaki-san and I ended up getting our heads poked by Mirai.

*

“Mornin’—!”

“Good morning.”

Mirai and Masaki-san enter the classroom while greeting classmates.

I put the bento I was holding into my locker before entering the classroom.

Since it’s been two weeks since the entrance ceremony, it seems several groups have already formed. They are gathering respectively and their conversations are blooming.

Besides them, there are various others: those desperately facing notebooks, those reading books, those looking at smartphones.

The surroundings are full of people I don’t know. I was nervous but excited.

“Masaki-san, Miyazu-san, mornin’—!”

“Good… morning.”

Seeing Mirai and Masaki-san, the girls who were chatting greet them. A gal-like girl wearing her uniform loosely, and a petite girl reminiscent of a small animal like a chinchilla.

“Mornin’!”

“Good morning.”

“Morning.”

When I greeted following Mirai and Masaki-san, the two girls looked puzzled.

“G-Good morning.”

“…?”

The gal greeted me back while surprised, but the other one stares intently at my face with upturned eyes.

“Um… could it be Asou-kun?”

“Ah, that’s right. I’m Asou.”

“Boring!”

Wham. An impact on my back. Idiot strength. I thought the rice ball I ate earlier would fly out of my stomach.

“Eh!? It’s Asou-kun!?”

At the gal-chan’s voice, the gazes of the whole class turned toward me.

“Asou, you said!?”

“That guy who was said to be missing in South America!?”

“You were alive!?”

Yes. I am that Asou. I came back to Japan alive.

“Umi noticed well.”

“Because we were in the same class in elementary school long ago.”

“Ah—, come to think of it, Ushio-san was also in Class 1 during Minami Elementary, right.”

Chinchilla-chan, or rather Ushio Umi-san, seems to have been a classmate when attending Toto Minami Elementary School. We hardly spoke, but come to think of it, her face and name remain faintly in my memory.

“I’m Izuma Kazuki. Nice to meet you, Asou-kun.”

“I’m Asou Ayataka. Nice to meet you.”

Greeting Gal-ko-chan, or rather Izuma-san, I head to my seat. In the seat behind me, Ikoma-san, whom I met at the school gate yesterday, is muttering something while facing a textbook and notebook.

Maybe because it’s hot, her indoor shoes are kicked off on the floor and she’s barefoot.

“Good morning, Ikoma-san.”

Ikoma-san raised her tanned face and said one word.

“You’re decent today.”

Rude!

As expected, today I’m not wearing the poncho or hat. Because Mirai stopped me before leaving the house.

“Homework?”

Ikoma-san is looking at an English textbook. The textbook is densely written in.

“Nope. First period English. I’m gonna get called on today. Asou-kun, was it? You’ll probably be called on first, you know? You okay?”

Perhaps relieved that she won’t be called on first anymore, Ikoma-san, attendance number 2, is smirking.

But, you are forgetting.

“I’m a returnee (kikokushijo).”

“Ah!?”

“If you’re bad at English, being called on after me might be tough, you know.”

As far as I can see from the textbook, I won’t struggle in English class.

“Hey hey, I want you to teach me the pronunciation here!”

Ikoma-san turned her palm and snuggled up. Her face is quite cute, and her tanned skin and dangling bare feet are attractive, but I’m not the type to be fluttered by that.

“Ah—, my Latin accent might rub off on you, so you’d better ask someone else.”

“Eh, wait!?”

It might have been mean, but it’s retaliation for her making fun of my fashion. Besides, it’s a fact that my English has a strong accent, so I don’t think it would serve as a good example.

“Ossu! Returnee.”

“Yo! Who are you?”

Ignoring Ikoma-san squawking, some boy next to me called out. His height is taller than mine, probably in the high 170s. He looks light but not frivolous. Apparently, the refreshing good-guy handsome man (ikemen) who is inexplicably best friends with the loner protagonist, familiar in anime and gal games, has spawned around me too.

“I’m Kakizaki Kyouhei. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Asou Ayataka.”

“Ayataka, huh. My older sister is Ayaka, you see. Hey, can I call you Taka?”

As expected of a refreshing ikemen. Coming with a first-name nickname right away.

Certainly, it would be hard to call if it’s one character different from his sister. Of course, I don’t mind. It sounds way better than Ayata.

“Sure thing, Yuuji.”

“Who’s that!? Ah—, somehow it’s a pain so I’ll call you Asou.”

Ah, is that so.

Chapter 20: Self-Introduction

At Toko, there is a homeroom before the first period. It’s about 10 minutes long, but if there’s nothing special, it seems to end quickly.

When the homeroom teacher, Kuki-sensei, stood at the podium, we greeted and then sat down at the class representative’s command.

“Good morning! Is anyone missing~?”

Kuki-sensei looks around at the students.

“Looks like the whole class is finally here. Then, Asou-kun. Please briefly introduce yourself.”

Well, that was bound to happen. I knew it.

Having anticipated this, I stand up and begin my self-introduction.

“I am Asou Ayataka. I returned from the Republic of Cicymel the other day, and starting today I’ll be studying here with you all. Since I did correspondence, I didn’t go to junior high school. My hobby is reading. I look forward to working with you.”

Name, previous school, hobby. The first self-introduction upon entering high school is about this much, right? I conclude with the innocuous content I thought up beforehand and bow. I hear claps (pachi-pachi).

“Kind of ordinary.”

Said Ikoma Makoto-san in the seat behind me.

Also, the seat behind Ikoma-san is the gal, Izuma-san. Behind her, Chinchilla… or rather, Ushio-san is sitting. Of these three, the only one clapping properly is Ushio-san.

“Is ‘hobby is reading’ for real?”

Said Kakizaki Kyouhei on my right.

In the seat behind Kakizaki Kyouhei, a quiet-looking boy with glasses is sitting, but he doesn’t seem very interested in me.

“It’s true. I read Demon Slayer (Kimetsu) and Demon Slayer (Onigeki – likely a misremembered title or fictional equivalent) over there too.”

“Manga!?”

“Also reincarnation stories, or villainess ones.”

“That’s ‘Narou’ stuff!”

A tsukkomi came immediately, and the classroom was wrapped in laughter.

To tell the truth, I’m not much of a reader to call it a hobby.

It’s just to the extent of reading manga I read since I was in Japan, or the original works of anime recommended by Jimmy on the internet.

My real hobby, if I had to say, is video editing. I actually opened a channel on You-Tube and am earning decent revenue. The reason I didn’t say that is because I have circumstances where I don’t want my classmates to take too much interest in me.

The matter of me receiving a medal in Cicymel. If that gets spread amusingly on the net, it might stimulate the mafia remnants.

Currently, reports about my decoration are restricted in Japan. The reason is for the safety of not just me and Kuu, but all Japanese living overseas.

I caused the collapse of the largest domestic drug cartel and the strengthening of the crackdown on the mafia by the country. Although the main Ferrero Family has collapsed, I am resented by mafia throughout Cicymel, dealers who made money on drugs, and junkies.

There are antisocial groups thinking to save face by killing me and holding up my head as a sign, saying “This is what happens if you oppose us-zo!”

Right now, due to the distance of being on the other side of the earth and the government crackdown, plus them being busy with the power struggle after the Ferrero Family collapse, it feels like I’m being overlooked, but if they see me getting carried away, they will undoubtedly send a hitman. If that happens, I have to leave this town. I’d have to return to Cicymel or go to a country where I can receive a witness protection program.

On Cicymel news sites, it is reported, as expected. However, from a Japanese perspective, it’s a minor country with a capital M, and since the news sites are in Spanish, even if you search normally, nothing about me comes up.

But if I say I’m doing video streaming, the story changes.

If you search “Cicymel”, “Japanese”, “Video”, my channel comes up at the top.

The You-Tube channel by 3D avatars of a Japanese boy, a brown-skinned local girl, and a blonde older sister attending a prestigious British university. “Olala” comes up!

Actually, I was doing V-Tubing over there. Incidentally, “Olala” was named by combining the Spanish greeting “Hola” and the Japanese plural suffix “ra” (meaning “and others/group”). It absolutely does not have “Ora-ora” type content, nor is it related to Goku.

V-Tubing is a culture born in and unique to Japan, and overseas there are hardly any V-Tubers who use avatars to become characters. Overseas people, full of self-confidence and self-assertion, don’t go out of their way to hide their faces for a chance to become popular. Even with editing, showing one’s face is standard. So there must have been novelty too. Also, with the recent Japanese anime boom, avatars using so-called moe art were somehow well-received.

When I made a channel introducing the Andean civilization and the lives of people living there, featuring the boy Souta who came from Japan, the brown-skinned girl Kunyan living in a village deep in the Andes, and the British university student Rhiannon Onee-san researching Andean civilization, it was incredibly well-received.

Currently, Souta and Kunyan, played by me and Kuu, are on hiatus due to advancing to Japanese schools, but we switched it to village management to keep it going, and the subscribers have exceeded 5 million. The village children are doing their best as new characters.

5 million in 3 years since starting. I think it’s quite a number myself. That said, Spanish is used in 21 countries worldwide, ranking second in the world after English. It’s a language spoken by 489 million people, so the denominator is different from the Japanese sphere. It’s a fact that there is an environmental advantage over Japanese streamers.

Also, because we casually stream explanations of the latest discoveries and research results of the Andean civilization and interviews with famous professors, we are supported by researchers and university students around the world, as well as history fans and mystery fans.

Now, if you watch this “Olala” with 5 million subscribers, you’ll realize the person inside Souta is me. In the early days, it was before my voice changed so it’s hard to tell, but for the last year, it’s almost my natural voice.

If “Olala’s” Souta is found, the connection to the recent Ferrero Family collapse incident and the awarding of the medal will be made in no time.

Already on overseas sites, there is noise that the Japanese boy Ayataka Asou, the protagonist of the adventure story unfolded against the mafia with his stepsister and awarded a medal by the Cicymel government, is “Olala’s” Souta.

There are no other Japanese boys living in villages deep in the Andes, and having connections with researchers. If you go that far, there’s no way to hide it.

That’s why I don’t want my classmates to have too much interest in me.

To live peacefully in Japan, “Olala” must not be found.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Asked a male student sitting at the very back by the window. He looks pale and effeminate, but his face is well-featured. He taps away at his smartphone without even looking this way while asking people things.

Do I have to answer? This?

“Well?”

“How about it?”

“Do you?”

I thought about ignoring it, but crossfire came from the right, behind, and behind that.

If you say girlfriend, there’s Kuu. But talking about my relationship with my stepsister is troublesome. Even if being exposed to curious eyes is unavoidable, if I’m teased or have people meddle from the side, I have confidence I’ll seriously snap. I’m seriously staking my life on this for the future with Kuu.

I instinctively looked to the back left of the classroom seeking help.

Mirai and Masaki-san. Mirai, that guy. Smirking at me…

But by the time I realized that was a mistake, it was too late.

My classmates quickly detected where my gaze was sent, and after looking at the two in unison, they turned their gazes back to me again.

Somehow the boys’ gazes are bad. Don’t direct such bloodlust at me.

To avoid useless trouble, I…

“I don’t.”

…answered. I had no choice but to answer.

“””””Hooou?”””””

What? That chorus just now. I heard it from all over the classroom.

“Wait! What was that just now, you guys!”

Mirai’s voice saying that was ignored.

And the male student who started it was looking at his smartphone as usual.

Really, what is it!