Vol 2 Chapter 48 – The Age of Otaku

“So, O-Tora’s family runs an art school, right?”

At some point, she’d started calling Torako-san by the nickname O-Tora.

Beside Toudou-san, I sipped my kelp tea.

“That’s right. She’s probably a closeted otaku. I’ve known since I was a kid that she was hiding it from me.”

“What do you mean?”

“When we’re walking through town holding hands, I often see her eyes drawn to anime posters and videos. She never brings up manga or illustration topics, acting like her work as a painter is so lofty and refined. But she never says a single bad word about otaku.”

Is that educational consideration at work?

Unlike my mother, who has zero interest in otaku culture but also zero prejudice against it—and who accepts her son’s otaku activities—Torako-san’s mother seems different.

“Even when I try to steer the conversation in that direction, she completely refuses to engage. But she can’t cross that final line of disparaging the culture. Basically, she’s like a hidden Christian who can’t step on the fumie depicting Christ.”

“I see.”

President Takahashi nodded.

Did she figure something out?

“I understand it well enough just from that information. Anyone else get it?”

President Takahashi prompted us to raise our hands.

I don’t get it.

Toudou-san and Segawa-san don’t seem to either, but Emma-san alone timidly raised her hand.

“I kind of understand. Um, I was a closeted otaku in middle school too. I’m sorry.”

I don’t know what Emma-san is apologizing for.

I tilted my head, puzzled.

No, wait—you know this too, don’t you? You’ve vaguely realized it, haven’t you?

You just don’t want to admit it.

It felt like some past life memory was desperately trying to tell me something—

“I mean, I already didn’t have a single friend, so if people found out I was an otaku—what kind of terrible bullying would I face? What if they insulted the things I truly loved, the precious things I clung to for comfort in my loneliness?”

“Okay, okay, Emma. Calm down.”

Segawa-san stroked Emma-san’s back, trying to soothe her growing distress.

Emma-san’s body continued trembling.

“Now then, I said I kind of understood, but we still don’t have enough information. Mind if I ask a few questions, Torako-chan?”

“Yes, ask me anything.”

She can’t understand why her mother opposes her joining the club.

It should be fine for a top-tier gyaru to become an otaku, right?

That’s what Torako-san’s expression seemed to say.

President Takahashi continued her questioning.

“Well, let’s see. Were you raised isolated from subculture stuff, Torako-san? Where did your knowledge of the End-of-Century Savior Legend or that beef-bowl-loving super hero of love and courage come from?”

“I dug through my mother’s off-limits reference room and found tons of manga. I also knew she was hiding doujinshi under her bed. I’ve vaguely known since I was a kid, but…”

So Torako-san’s mother really is a closeted otaku.

If I were an otaku—well, I’d welcome my child becoming one too.

Actually, maybe not.

It would depend on the “era.”

I suddenly realized this from my past life knowledge.

Ah, so that’s it.

“Does your mother have any friends?”

“People through her art business, sure. Art dealers, individual patrons, students at the art school she runs…”

“Any otaku friends among them?”

“Not a single one.”

The background is becoming clearer.

“Now then, Segawa-chan. Don’t you think we live in a wonderful era?”

“What do you mean?”

President Takahashi suddenly turned to Segawa-san.

“The arrival of a society where all 100 million people are otaku. While they think they’re not otaku themselves, if you ask whether they have hobbies, everyone says yes. Whether it’s bonsai, painting, or supposedly lofty hobbies—fewer people feel strong aversion when told ‘Well then, you’re an otaku too.'”

“True. The meaning of the word ‘otaku’ itself has completely changed. I know it shifted from being a clear term of contempt for people with creepy obsessions—a negative image where only abnormal people were called that.”

Right, it was like that in my past life too.

That’s how it used to be.

“Now, considering that Torako-chan’s mother probably had that kind of experience—or rather, lived through that kind of era—what do you think, Hatsune?”

This time the question went to Toudou-san instead of Segawa-san.

“I dunno. Sure, even in middle school, Chihiro and I were the only otaku drawing manga and illustrations. But we weren’t bullied or teased. Different era. More importantly, I had Chihiro as a best friend.”

“Perhaps Torako-chan’s mother wasn’t blessed even with that kind of friend. Maybe she’s lived her whole life hiding that she’s an otaku.”

It’s just speculation.

Merely theoretical speculation, but President Takahashi’s deduction seemed accurate.

“This is just a guess, mind you. Basically, Torako-chan’s mother doesn’t want her daughter—who’s navigating life so successfully—to become an otaku. Because she knows the painful era of persecution.”

“But it’s the Reiwa era now. The past is the past, the present is the present, right?”

Torako-san said this with a puzzled expression.

But hmm, even I found myself troubled.

Because I know that persecuted era firsthand.

“We’re like children who don’t know war. From the perspective of parents who actually lived through that era, it might feel different. They might think the era of persecution could return someday.”

What President Takahashi murmured seemed right.

“Well, if that were all, I could just go directly and explain. That it’s not that kind of era anymore, Mrs. Torako’s-mother. I could earnestly make my case.”

“Would you come?”

“I don’t mind, but let’s nail down the details first.”

President Takahashi looked anxious, as if sensing there might be more to this.

“Depending on how we build our argument and present it—the persuasive materials we use—we might touch on a personal taboo from her past. Instead of persuading her, we could end up enraging her. These situations are quite tricky.”

Saying this, she sipped kelp tea from her sushi teacup.

President Takahashi’s glasses fogged up slightly from the steam.

“I’m also from a regular family and my parents aren’t otaku. Well, they did tell me to quit such bad hobbies and study instead. They’ve given up now though. Anyway, let’s hear a bit more.”

There might be more to this, but we’re probably not far off the mark.

Now, the question is what to do from here.

“Listen carefully to what your mother says. We’ll plan our strategy properly, then go. Let me ask first though—if all the club members showed up to persuade her, would your mother be the type to get angry?”

“I think that should be fine.”

“Got it, then everyone cooperate, okay? I’ll be the main shield, so don’t worry.”

As always, President Takahashi is so reliable.

As always, I’m smitten with the shining otaku that is our president.

Still—I wonder if there’s something I could do to help.

While desperately thinking, I began pondering what materials we could use to persuade Torako-san’s mother.