Vol 2 Chapter 50 – If You’re Just Playing Around, Could You Do It Elsewhere?

Ryuko-san stroked her cheek with elegant movements.

Well, she had said her piece.

“I said the reasons were complex. But what I ultimately want to say is, ‘If you’re just playing around, could you do it elsewhere? At the very least, you shouldn’t join a doujin circle that takes otaku activities seriously with half-assed motives like wanting to enjoy your youth with a boy. Wait until you get to college, join a tennis club that doesn’t actually play tennis, and desperately hunt for the few men there!'”

She stated it flatly.

I think she has a point, though.

When she puts it like that, I feel rather awkward.

“Um, someone like me is just a beginner otaku who doesn’t even have the cultural capital of painting skills like Torako-san, yet I’m part of the club — it’s not exactly a club that turns away beginners.”

Torako-san was resting her hands on the ground, looking utterly crushed, and I felt sorry for her, so I threw in a follow-up.

I threw it in, but Ryuko-san still clearly voiced her denial.

“However, you take it seriously, don’t you? I bought a book from you at the doujinshi convention, you know? At the very least, you were acting as a cosplay salesperson with the intention of contributing to the club.”

“Well, that is true, but…”

“I interpret that as being serious. In fact, you plan to study and work hard from here on out, don’t you?”

Hmm, I really am completely serious.

I want to make an earnest effort and hopefully become able to draw illustrations and manga properly. I’m looking forward to being able to draw.

That part is no lie.

Now then, how should we persuade her?

Without offering a single counterargument regarding Torako-san’s actions, our main shield, Takahashi-buchou, spoke up.

“If we were to bullet-point the reality of it, Torako-chan is undeniably trash. She’s trash, but…”

“Trash!?”

Torako-san was astounded.

Takahashi-buchou, no, I actually thought that, but well, if you bullet-pointed it out, it might objectively look that way.

I’ll leave it to Buchou for now.

“That’s only how it looks at first glance — the inner truth is a little different. In reality, it wasn’t so much a forceful push as it was her using her wits to get us at the Modern Culture Research Club to accept her provisional membership. Um, like Judas.”

“Don’t you think a beast with a little bit of cunning is even harder to handle? In a sense, I was betrayed, though.”

Ryuko-san is strong. She possesses a strength befitting the dragon in her name.

Shaking her head, she absolutely refused to accept Takahashi-buchou’s words.

“A place I forbade her from entering. The reference room she had never even shown interest in before. She secretly obtained the key, snuck into that room, and took a whole bunch of manga volumes about the savior of the end of the century and the beef-bowl-loving superhero of love and courage. On top of that, she even rummaged under my bed.”

“Well, I think you have the right to be angry about that as a mother,”

Takahashi-buchou mumbled, looking exasperated.

Sneaking into a private space without a word and rummaging through personal belongings — Ryuko-san definitely had the right to be angry about that.

But well, that’s a family issue.

“I already apologized!”

“Is that the attitude of someone reflecting on their actions?! Even as a family, some things are forgiven, and things that are not!!”

I wanted to say something, but at this point, Ryuko-san’s impression of her was incredibly bad. I ended up thinking she was an admirable, mature person just for not taking her anger out on the Modern Culture Research Club, which was the origin of the whole incident.

Not a shred of hysteria could be seen in her demeanor.

Well, in short, she is a proper adult. She is eloquent and logical, with a solid core.

Wouldn’t even Takahashi-buchou, an otaku of the light, have a hard time untangling this?

“Alright! Ryuko-san is completely right, so let’s go home! Well then, I’ll take my payment and head back!!”

It was Toudou-san who took the initiative and insisted on going home.

She stretched like a cat, extending her 170cm tall frame with an nnngh. For some reason, insisting it was her guarantee (reward), she grabbed my hand, stood up from her seat, and tried to leave as if everything was completely over.

“Don’t just try to leave so easily! Toudou-paisen! Take my side!!”

Torako-san, who had been resting her hands on the floor in utter defeat, clung to Toudou-san’s leg.

“Shut up! There’s no way to persuade her after taking a punch to the face with such sound logic! Let go, Otora!!”

It seemed Toudou-san couldn’t find any counterarguments against Ryuko-san.

As for me, I soothed her with a “there, there,” pushed Toudou-san’s back, and returned her to her seat.

The persuasion continued.

“Um, may I say something as well?”

“Go ahead.”

Segawa-san slowly raised her hand, and Ryuko-san responded.

“What I was concerned about was not just regarding Torako-san, but whether it also involved your honor as her mother, Ryuko-san. That your daughter became an otaku, and because of that, you would also be exposed as a closet otaku. I thought you disliked the idea because of that fear. Is that incorrect?”

Segawa-san asked flatly.

I hadn’t intended for us to speak this directly, but considering how proper Ryuko-san was, she must have judged that clashing head-on would be better.

“…Certainly, there is that aspect. But if we’re going to talk about that, then participating in doujinshi conventions itself would be a bad idea. No matter when or what, I am prepared to be exposed. In this day and age, it’s not like people will throw stones at me.”

True.

Though she probably does it out of the public eye and isn’t on the distributing side, Ryuko-san still participates in doujinshi conventions.

“Being outed as an otaku is scary. It’s still scary even now. But if my daughter is truly serious, I am prepared to be outed.”

“I am serious!”

“You are not serious.”

Ryuko-san clearly rebuked her daughter.

“I understand working hard to show your good side to the opposite sex. That can become energy. But, you know, there’s no way you can just blend in with people who were otaku to begin with just to get a boy.”

She declared.

Ryuko-san is a closet otaku. She knows just how much passion otaku activities require.

“Do not destroy the precious place where other people secretly enjoy themselves in the dim light for your own selfish convenience!”

And she stated it clearly, as if passing judgment.

Torako-san stumbled over her words, letting out an “Urgh…”

Well, I now, we’re in trouble.

It’s difficult to overturn the opinion of Ryuko-san, who speaks with such earnest and sound logic.

Honestly, none of the various speeches we had planned in the Modern Culture Research Club seemed capable of standing against her. Our advanced plan had already collapsed.

She wasn’t being obstinate — she was adhering to the logic of things. How were we supposed to defend Torako-san’s actions, which deviated from that logic?

That was the problem.

“Um,”

Here, Emma-san hesitantly raised her hand.

Ryuko-san directed a sharp gaze at her, drawing out a tiny squeak of a scream — but Emma-san timidly opened her mouth.

“My name is Takakura Emma. I was also a closet otaku. Moreover, I was unproductive. I’m sorry for being an otaku.”

Hearing this sudden confession, Ryuko-san’s gaze naturally softened. She corrected her posture and responded politely, silently listening to Emma-san’s faltering words.

“It’s not something for you to apologize for. There is no need for you to apologize for anything, whatsoever.”

“Yes.”

“What’s wrong with the world. Insulting the things people love and cherish, and on top of that, claiming that the other person is at fault for having a hobby worthy of mockery. The world, which is nothing more than a bunch of vulgar people making such self-justifications, is what’s wrong.”

Ryuko-san stared straight at Emma-san.

“Even if the era where people like me were discriminated against just for being otaku is over, I can only think that deep down, the contempt for it as ‘vulgar reading material’ hasn’t disappeared at all. That’s why I want Torako to live a life where she doesn’t go near that kind of swamp.”

Then she gently offered Emma-san words of comfort.

In the end, she was scared. She must be endlessly worried about Torako-san.

As if to say the conversation was over with that.

But Emma-san’s words continued — falteringly, they continued.

“Um, how should I say this? Earlier, I said I’m sorry for being an otaku. Strictly speaking, that’s not quite right. I wasn’t lonely because I was an otaku — the problem lay in my own subservience. The cause was my own personal inability to socialize. Rather, light novels and manga were precious friends that comforted me in my loneliness.”

“…I was like that too. I loved manga and light novels. But I never met a comrade I could share those things with, and I was terrified of being put in a position to receive slander and abuse.”

“It’s true that it used to be like that. It was an era where being an otaku was something to be mocked.”

With a nod, Emma-san agreed.

Unusually for her timid self, she looked straight into Ryuko-san’s eyes.

“It’s different now.”

Their gazes intersected.

“The war is over. The era of otaku persecution has ended. We are now in an era where we can say we like the things we like. Or so, I think…”

“In short, what is it that you want to say, Emma-san?”

“Um, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a gyaru becoming an otaku. The catalyst can be something trivial. We won’t reject her. Because I too am someone who was picked up because of a trivial catalyst. I don’t have the option of rejecting Torako-san — who isn’t just aiming for Kajiwara-kun, but is saying she’ll work hard because it looks fun — just because she’s a beginner, or because she has ulterior motives.”

Falteringly, Emma-san continued, stating that at the very least, she would not reject Torako-san.

Then, trying to say something else, she looked kindly at Takahashi-buchou.

Mhm — Takahashi-buchou gently nodded, taking over the persuasion.

“Isn’t it fine? Um, Torako-san’s reason for her actions was certainly terrible, but we didn’t perceive it as malicious. Rather, we acknowledged her goodwill and effort, which is why we accepted her provisional membership.”

“Are you saying she hasn’t caused any discomfort to the members of the Modern Culture Research Club?”

“She hasn’t. Not to anyone.”

She was properly stating what she wanted to say.

In a situation where everyone was at a loss, Emma-san had spoken her absolute best. Taking over from that, Takahashi-buchou also spoke her true feelings, declaring that she would not reject Torako-san.

Ryuko-san listened to the persuasion earnestly, showing signs of slight hesitation.

“Um, may I say something as well?”

I raised my hand too.

It’s just one final push now. If I don’t help out here, my pride as a man is ruined.

“Go ahead, Kajiwara-san.”

“I’ll be repeating Emma-senpai, but well, she said some good things. There’s nothing wrong with being a beginner, is there? Any catalyst is fine, isn’t it? Her methods for getting to this point were pretty terrible, sure, but she read the manga you owned, Ryuko-san, and said it was interesting — that she loved it. So, why not try stepping into that swamp? That is, ultimately, her freedom, right?”

I guessed Ryuko-san’s inner thoughts — she disliked it because she didn’t feel secure about it. Even if Torako-san joined, if it wasn’t fun, she’d probably quit right away. I needed to compensate for that lack of security.

“It hasn’t been long since I joined the Modern Culture Research Club either, but they are all wonderful people. There are only people here who will play catch, returning sincerity with sincerity. Once it’s decided, we’ll welcome her warmly, and she’ll be able to have fun.”

I smiled and declared.

There wasn’t a single lie in this.

“Whether Torako will, um, actually take it seriously…”

Looking somewhat troubled, Ryuko-san’s gaze wandered before finally settling on her beloved daughter.

“I said I’ll take it seriously. I’m not so rotten that I’d betray other people’s expectations here. You’re the one who raised me like that, Mom.”

The final say belonged to Torako-san.

At this point, it was a matter of her credibility — a matter of whether Ryuko-san could trust her daughter.

After mumbling for a moment, eventually, as if giving up, she spoke.

“Members of the Modern Culture Research Club.”

Ryuko-san politely looked our way and bowed her head deeply.

“I apologize for such embarrassing behavior after having opposed it once, but please take care of this child. She is by no means a bad girl. If she proves useless during her provisional membership, please call me. I will take responsibility and deal with her.”

All of us bowed our heads as well and answered.

“We will gladly welcome her.”

The discussion was settled.

Feeling relieved, I looked at Torako-san.

Shouting “Uwoooh!”, she fell to both knees on the floor, arching her back and throwing both hands into the air. It was a pose I had seen in the movie Platoon, which existed in my previous life, though I don’t know if it exists in this one. It looked like Christ on the cross, giving off a highly ominous impression, but it seemed to be a fist-pump of victory of sorts.

Well, for better or worse, she’s a person without malice — it’ll work out somehow.

Chuckling softly, I came to that conclusion.