You Girls Are Way Too Obsessed With A Lone Wolf Like Me - Volume 4 C - Prologue

Volume 4 C – Prologue

Out of all the seasons, isn’t autumn the one that lacks impact the most?

Spring is the season of meetings and farewells, summer is all about vacations, and winter is for the lovers wrapped up in their koi.

You can slap on a flashy slogan to any of those pretty easily, y’know?

And yet, when it comes to autumn…

“Autumn of sports,” “Autumn of reading,” “Autumn of appetite,” and so on and so forth.

It just reeks of being tacked on after the fact. Like, you could say that about any season if you really wanted to, right? Makes you wanna mutter, “C’mon now…”

Overall? THE・Plain Jane.

But precisely because it’s plain… it’s good. That’s what I believe, with all my heart.

Not everyone is out here chasing thrills and fireworks. People like me, who enjoy their solitude, don’t ask for much more than a quiet, peaceful life.

Just like in the old children’s songs—finding a little autumn is more than enough.

Like noticing the sun setting earlier…

Or how the leaves along the path are turning golden…

Or how hot coffee’s starting to call to you more than iced…

It’s a season for savoring those soft, delicate little changes.

Truly, the perfect season for the lone wolf lifestyle.

One of my favorite hideouts: the corridor gallery on the second floor of the gym. I was leaning on the railing, spacing out while gazing at the early autumn sky when—

“Hey! Now’s not the time to be admiring the scenery, Himemiya-kun!”

Little autumn? More like little teacher, found.

“Busted,” would probably be the right word here. I turned around with a sluggish “Hoaa…”, and sure enough, standing right beside me was our Class 1-B homeroom teacher-slash-mascot, Amami Minamo-sensei.

Today, too, she’s in top form: comically petite to the point that even a ladies’ size S outfit looks baggy on her. Her puffy cheeks are blown up in frustration, but honestly, it’s rare to see an adult who looks this bad standing in a “majestic” pose. It’s like, instead of doshin (imposing), she gives off chimmari (tiny and tucked in). Someone call Nanikore Chin Hyakkei.

Sensei squints at me with her gaze of suspicion—not sure if she’s just quick to notice, or if my face gives away too much.

“Himemiya-kun. You’re thinking something awful right now, aren’t you…?”

“Just idle thoughts on my end. They might be life-and-death matters for you, though, sensei.”

“It’s about my height, isn’t it!? It totally is! That’s it, right!?”

“…Sorry.”

With a screeching “Kiiiiii!” she flails her tiny body to look as big as possible, trying her best to intimidate me—but really, the feeling it gives off is more painfully cute than scary. Can’t help but wonder what kind of grown-up she’ll become…

…Ah, right. She is already a grown-up.

My solo trance mode was fully broken by this fun-sized educator, and now all the sounds of the world came crashing back in. The thumping of balls echoing through the gym, the steady patter of running feet on the court, shouts, cheers, laughter—

Yup. We’re smack-dab in the middle of the ball game tournament.

Just like any other high school really—each grade’s classes split up into teams and go head-to-head tournament style. Autumn of Sports™ (lol).

I chose softball. Took one look at the crisp autumn sky from the field and next thing I knew—boom, we got mercy-ruled. THE・Ragtag Squad.

So yeah, since we lost in the first round like champs, I figured I’d come chill out here at my favorite spot.

By the way, my fellow ragtag warriors, Ameya and Takechi, took their handheld consoles and portable chargers and vanished into the culture building. Honestly, they might be worse than me.

Meanwhile, Amami-sensei’s all fired up for the cheering squad. She’s whacking together two empty plastic bottles like cheering bats—don-doko-don-doko! Looks like an elementary schooler going all-out on Taiko no Tatsujin. Kinda adorable.

“Come on, Himemiya-kun, you cheer too! Look, look! Our class is doing their best out there!”

What a bunch of weirdos. I mean, sure, we’ve got no classes right now and plenty of time to kill, but they actually came out to cheer?

I like watching sports too, don’t get me wrong. But the kind I like is the kind that gets your palms sweaty—intense matches between pros or seasoned players. Hate to say it, but watching a bunch of cheerful amateurs fool around in a match isn’t really my thing. Well, okay, except for neighborhood baseball games. Those folks are casual but still go full power.

“Now’s the time to show Class 1-B’s unity—! Let’s goooo, everyone! Fightoooo!!”

The tiny cheerleader at my side, fully fired up, is shouting her lungs out. I shift my gaze down to the first floor of the gym. Some familiar faces from our class are scattered across the courts, playing their matches.

Today’s sport: badminton. On the nearest court are Queen Endou Hina and our resident gyaru-on-the-outside-mama-on-the-inside, Urokase Yumeno.

“Yumeno~ Hina wants to go cheer for Shuntarou’s volleyball game alreadyyy.”

“But didn’t they say Shuntarou and the others are up against a team stacked with actual club members next? Didn’t they say it’s basically impossible to win?”

“Ughhh… that’s such a buzzkill. Also, I just got a perm yesterday, I really don’t wanna sweat.”

“I shouldn’t’ve worn my nail tips either… Every time I grip the racquet, they dig into my palms and it hurts like hell.”

“Haaah… so annoying…” The two of them groan in perfect sync—400% synchronization rate. Honestly, I don’t think they even want to hold the racquets. Their loose-limbed, no-guard stance screams “zero motivation” more than “we’re ready for battle.”

“Amami-sensei… am I really expected to cheer for those two?”

“………… I-I’m sure if you cheer for them, they’ll be filled with spirit and motivation! …Right?”

I doubt they’ve got that whole “hero rising to the moment” thing in them. Also, stop answering my question with a question.

“Go go gooooo!! I’m right here with youuuuu!!”

That bold, dependable voice rings out from nearby on the second-floor walkway. It’s Kurashiki Ruri, waving a towel with all her might. She’s so into it, her shirt lifts up a little and shows a flash of her belly as she cheers full power.

“S-see! You should follow Kurashiki-san’s example! With someone cheering that passionately, anyone would feel the urge to do their best!”

“Yeah. Even though she’s clearly cheering for a different class entirely.”

“Haeh?”

Amami-sensei turns to follow Kurashiki’s gaze… and finds it fixed on one of the senior boys playing basketball on the next court over. Yep. Of course he’s a handsome senpai.

“Nice play, senpaaaai! Take me with you to the finalssss!”

“Kurashiki-san!? Who are you even cheering for!?”

“Hmm? Just a super cool senpai I happened to spot by chance?”

She grins and adds, “Don’t even know his name yet!” with the smugness of someone who’s lived a million lives.

Some idiots can live a hundred million lives and still not learn a damn thing.

That said, I get it. I really do. Whether it’s Kurashiki finding new motivation, or Urokase and Endou being totally unmotivated—I relate. Same goes for Ameya and Takechi, who wandered off clutching their handhelds and portable chargers.

Let’s be honest: no one takes an event seriously when it doesn’t even affect their P.E. grades.

The only people in our class putting in actual effort… are those two.

Right in the center of the three courts, chasing the shuttle with everything they’ve got, are the humanitarian and the subculture girl—

Misaki Karin and Hatori Erena.

Misaki returns a shallow shuttle, and with a chirpy little “Ei!,” pushes it just past the net to score a point.

The two pretty girls high-five, glowing as they celebrate the moment.

“Nice catch, Erena~♪”

“You too, Karin. That was a great shot.”

Squeals and cheers erupt from their little fan club.

“Nice one, Karin! Let’s go one more point!”

“Karin-chan! Keep it up!”

“You’re the cutest today toooo!”

“KARIN-SAMA! KARIN-SAMA! KARIN-SAMA!!”

Honestly, is this the center court at Wimbledon or something? The hype is insane.

Clearly, some people have found their motivation not in their class but in the school idol right in front of them.

I kinda feel bad for the guys playing against them. Being in such an away-game mood must suck. But the dudes are all smiles, shouting “Next serve coming up!” like this is the highlight of their lives. I mean, their returns are all floaty arcs like they’re trying to keep the rally going as long as possible.

My honest thoughts watching the Misaki-Hatori match?

Take that performance to Spo-cha.

It’s practically a customer-service play session. Not really the kind of match that makes you wanna cheer from the soul.

So yeah, my decision’s obvious.

“I’m thirsty. I’m gonna go buy a coffee. Later.”

“Could you not announce your slacking off so proudly!?”

“If it’s gonna get found out later anyway, I figured I might as well just say it upfront.”

“I think this every time… If you could just use that boldness of yours for something else, something productive…”

“You’re giving me way too much credit. I’m barely holding it together just handling my own stuff.”

“That’s just you going all-in on yourself!!”

…Welp, can’t argue with that one.

As I’m getting glomped on the arm by Amami-sensei, yelling “No skipping allowed!”, the crowd once again erupts in cheers—Misaki & Hatori just scored another point.

“Look, look! I’m sure those two are hoping for some cheer power from you too, Himemiya-kun!”

Sensei’s shout sounds like she’s watching a tokusatsu hero show or something. Misaki and Hatori both notice us.

Their reactions couldn’t be more different.

“Ah! Ama-chan-sensei and Himemiya-kun!♪”

“Ama-chan-sensei… a-and… H-Himemiya…!?”

With a big, blooming smile, Misaki waves both hands high like she’s starring in a commercial for sunshine. Meanwhile, Hatori freezes up, panic in her eyes like Why the heck is he here!?

“Come on, Himemiya-kun! Give them a cheer! Every single cheer adds up and leads to victory!”

Amami-sensei tugs insistently at my sleeve, looking more and more like my kid sister. She’s one step away from me bopping her on the head—not outta malice, just instinct.

…Sometimes, resignation is wisdom. Letting out a sigh, I offer a tepid little clap from our higher vantage point.

“Ganbare~ Misaki and Hatori~”

The tone is so deadpan it probably reminded people of a certain Supreme Leader from up north.

Misaki cups a hand to her ear with a playful smirk like, Is that all you’ve got? I can’t hear you~.

On the other hand, Hatori’s jaw is moving like she’s silently panicking, eyes locked on me like I’m a ghost that’s wandered into the gymnasium. And honestly? I kinda get why she’d react like that.

“E-Erina! The shuttle! It’s coming!”

“…Eh?”

The opponent’s serve, slow and floaty, arcs straight toward Hatori.

She notices it—waaaay too late. Doesn’t even raise her racket.

And yet… the shuttle never hits the floor.

Because its landing zone? Was right in the valley of Hatori’s rather glorious chest.

A perfect soft landing.

Only someone like Hatori—with that triple threat combo of volume, softness, and firmness—could’ve pulled off a hole-in-one in the cleavage like that.

Thus, the age-old theory is proven true before our eyes: Big boobs can, in fact, hold things.

Even the guys in Misaki’s cheer squad can’t hide their amazement.

“””””Oooooooh……”””””

Even a smattering of applause breaks out.

And with that, the Shame Switch in Hatori gets flipped to MAX.

“～～～～～っ!!”

She quickly clamps both hands over the shuttle resting on her fruitful assets, squats down, and curls up on the spot.

We call that phenomenon the Erenanyo Effect. Trademark pending.

Misaki, flustered by her friend’s public mishap, hurriedly makes a T-sign at the referee.

“Sorry! Time out, please!”

Hang in there, Hatori. Live strong.

After offering a brief moment of silence for her pride, I finally decide to head for the vending machine. But just before I do, I remember there’s another victim of today’s events: Amami-sensei, whose “1 cheer = 1 win” theory just got utterly obliterated.

She’s not even holding my sleeve anymore. She’s just… frozen.

…So I offer her a moment of silence, too.

And with a quick bow:

“Later.”

As I start to walk away, I hear her small voice behind me—

“Eh… Is our class… lacking in unity or something…?”