You Girls Are Way Too Obsessed With A Lone Wolf Like Me - Volume SS: 3 and 4

Volume SS: 3 and 4

SS③: Queen × Cooking = Killer Queen

After school. I’m browsing the new releases section at the bookstore, digging for an interesting book I haven’t read yet.

“Geh…! Himemiya…!”

“Huh?”

I turn around, and there’s a gyaru.

The queen who reigns at the top of our class’s social hierarchy, Hina Endou, has appeared.

Normally, she’s surrounded by her entourage, swirling around her like they’re equipped with a “Leaf Shield” or something. But right now, she’s alone.

Is her weapon energy at zero, unable to deploy her shield? Or is she just waiting to keep obliterating me until I drop my energy?

…Apparently not. From what I can tell, Endou’s here to buy something she doesn’t want anyone to know about. The proof? She’s hiding the book she was holding behind her back, as if her life depends on no one seeing it.

This girl’s kind of an idiot, isn’t she? If she hadn’t made a sound, I wouldn’t have even noticed her.

I don’t know what she’s here to buy, but I might as well offer some advice.

“Endou.”

“W-What?”

“They’ll stop you at the counter if you try to buy an 18+ book—”

“I’m not trying to buy a dirty book, okay!?”

Oh, my bad. I totally thought it was an adult book.

As if deciding that being mistaken for buying an adult book is worse, Endou thrusts the book she was hiding toward me.

The title? Starting Cooking from Zero.

What’s with that isekai-sounding title? But it seems like a pretty standard beginner-friendly cookbook.

Endou… cooking?

This is the girl who’d probably try to wash the sliminess off fish with dish soap or scrub it with a metal sponge… and she’s cooking?

Apparently, her reason for wanting to improve her cooking is, as expected, for Shuntaro Namikawa, the guy she’s head-over-heels for.

“Shuntarou’s got that big tournament coming up soon, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

I don’t know anything about it, but sure.

“On the day of the tournament, Hina wants to bring him a bento packed with energy! …A-And, you know, maybe win his heart through his stomach…”

A bento packed with energy = A bento that’ll steal his life.

Winning his heart through his stomach = Crushing his stomach.

Namikawa, my man. Your real opponent isn’t at the tournament—it’s lurking much closer than you think.

She must’ve noticed my distant gaze, because Endou snaps—either out of anger or maxed-out embarrassment.

“W-What’s so funny!? Go ahead and laugh! It’s weird for Hina to study cooking, right!?”

“I’m not laughing.”

“Huh…? Really?”

“Yeah. It’s not that funny.”

“What the hell’s your deal!?”

Enraged Endou is hilarious.

But with someone’s life on the line, how could I possibly laugh?

Her signature fluffy perm looks like it’s about to curl backward in rage. She’s terrifying. Best not to mess with a gyaru to avoid her wrath.

“Carry on,” I say with a nod, turning my attention back to the bookshelves.

Now, let’s see. I just finished a hefty sci-fi novel, so maybe something light and fun, like a collection of short stories, would hit the spot this time.

“Hey.”

She’s still here?

And… wait, did she get closer while I wasn’t looking?

Why?

“…Hina’s making a bento tomorrow. Will you try it?”

“…Huh?”

Is she telling me to die tomorrow?

As I freeze in terror, Endou panics, waving her hands. “D-Don’t get the wrong idea!”

“I want Shuntarou to eat delicious food! So, until I can make something I’m satisfied with, I want you to taste-test it for me!”

Taste-test it… that’s all?

What does she think my life is worth?

“Why don’t you just have your friends be your guinea pi—er, taste-testers instead of me?”

“Don’t call it being a guinea pig!” Endou yells, raising the odds of my death date being moved up by a day.

But she stops herself just in time. Calm down, it’s not time to lose it yet, she seems to tell herself, taking deep breaths to regain her composure.

Fiddling with the curled ends of her hair, she opens up.

“You’re the type to just say whatever’s on your mind, right, Himemiya? If I asked Yumeno or Megu for their opinions, they’d probably just sugarcoat it to spare my feelings. And, well…”

“And?”

“I don’t want things to get awkward again…”

Huh.

I’m surprised. The selfish princess is actually thinking about her friends.

It’s clear she’s indirectly saying she doesn’t want a repeat of the big fight she had with Urogase.

My eyes catch on her index finger. There’s a bandage wrapped around the tip—probably from cutting herself with a knife. I don’t know for sure, but that’s likely it.

I thought she was all talk, just full of complaints. But here she is, secretly practicing for the guy she likes and for her friends.

Looks like I need to rethink my opinion of Endou.

“Alright. I’ll go along with your practice for a bit.”

“R-Really!?”

“If you’d rather I lie, I can lie.”

“N-No way! It’s a promise! A promise! ♪”

I get that you’re excited, but please stop shaking my shoulders like that.

Also, starting with a bento is way too high a hurdle, so let’s not.

“How about instead of a bento, you start with something like honey-pickled lemons?”

“Honey-pickled lemons?”

“Yeah. They’re good for fatigue recovery, so if you bring some to the tournament, Namikawa will probably appreciate it.”

“!!! That’s perfect! Super, super, super brilliant idea! ♪”

I think it’s a brilliant idea too—my survival odds just shot way up.

“Got it? You just pickle ‘lemons’ in ‘honey,’ okay?”

“I know that much!”

With you, I’m scared you’d try pickling them in pickling solution or formaldehyde or something.

Endou’s all fired up, clutching the cookbook with a murderous—no, motivated gleam in her eye.

“Alright, Hina’s stopping by the supermarket on the way home! Look forward to tomorrow morning! ♪”

“I’d rather eat it after school.”

“Assuming I’ll give you food poisoning is super insulting, you know!”

The fact that you understood my one-liner is super impressive, though.

“Real men eat in silence,” Endou says, sticking out her tongue before finally turning toward the cashier.

As she walks away, she glances back and mutters:

“…Thanks for helping me out…”

Then she bolts off without even a proper goodbye.

She’s always been a free-spirited queen, so even this tiny bit of gratitude carries an absurd amount of destructive power. The world is just so unfair.

Once Endou’s out of sight, I pull my phone from my pocket and open LINE.

I start typing a message to Misaki, the cooking expert.

[Haruichi Himemiya] Teach Endou the recipe for honey-pickled lemons.

Please, for the love of god, teach her properly.

“Misaki, I’m counting on you,” I pray to the screen before hitting send.

After sending it, I can’t help but rub my stomach.

“Gotta go buy some antacids…”

If possible, I’d love to stock up on infinite 1UPs to boost my lives.

Will Endou master cooking first, or will my stomach give out before then?

The fact that Endou couldn’t tell the difference between honey and maple syrup is a story for another time.

SS④: [Special Edition] Sacrificing My Solo Time to Unveil Her Bangs

I was going to just pass by.

On my way to my usual café, I spotted a girl being harassed by a large dog.

“Eeeeek! Tarou, give me back my wig!”

The girl, apparently named Salyu, had her wig snatched by a dog on the other side of a fence in someone’s yard, its jaws clamped firmly around it.

The dog’s name is Tarou. According to Misaki, he’s a notorious stray in the neighborhood, known for being overly friendly and a bit of a kleptomaniac.

If this keeps up, the wig’s headed straight for the doghouse. In a panic, the girl shoves her slender arm through the gap in the fence as far as it’ll go.

But then…

“H-Huh…? …!!! My arm’s stuck!”

What an idiot.

Talk about adding insult to injury—or rather, adding a dog to a crying face.

As she desperately tries to free her arm, Tarou starts licking her palm with relentless enthusiasm: lick, lick, lick, lick, lick.

“W-Wait!? Stop licking my hand so much—aha! Ahahahaha! It tickles! Ahahahahahaha! I can’t breathe!”

“…”

This girl is seriously unlucky. Her wig gets stolen, her arm gets stuck, and now her hand’s being licked nonstop.

No choice, then.

I head toward the scene of this tragic incident and crouch beside the girl.

Then, I chant the magic words to Tarou on the other side of the fence:

“Balus.”

In an instant, Tarou’s body jolts with a twitch! As if realizing, “This isn’t the time to be chewing wigs or licking hands,” he drops into a submissive pose.

Balus. Apparently, it means, “If you keep messing around, you’re not getting dinner tonight.” It’s a phrase the dog’s owner uses to rein in Tarou, who often bothers Misaki.

“Back to your kennel,” I say with a wave of my hand. Having had his fill of fun, Tarou wags his tail vigorously and trots back to his doghouse. He’s obedient when it counts.

“I thought I was gonna die…”

“Come on, pull your arm out now.”

“T-Thanks…”

I widen the gap in the fence just a bit, and she manages to free her arm.

Finally able to move her body freely, the girl takes a deep breath, clenching and unclenching her hands.

Then, she flashes a soft, relieved smile.

“I’ve never felt the air taste so good or been so happy to have my arm free.”

What are you, a prisoner?

“Thanks so much for helping me out of that mess!”

Bowing deeply, the girl has quite the distinctive look. Champagne-gold hair and strikingly pale skin. At a glance, she could pass for someone with mixed heritage.

But she’s not just any mixed-race girl.

Her bangs are insanely long.

So long they completely cover both her eyes. Combined with her petite frame and shy, flustered demeanor, she almost looks like a breed of dog with overly long bangs—though I don’t know dog breeds well enough to name one. No wonder Tarou singled her out.

Overall impression: a tiny weirdo.

That said, she’s doing what she thinks is right. I’ve got no reason to comment on it.

If this is her identity, she should keep it up with pride.

It’s definitely not because I’m too lazy to poke fun or because I’m already fed up with the blonde mixed-race acquaintance I’ve got. Definitely not.

With the situation resolved, I give a quick nod and start to walk away with a “See ya,” but—

“W-Wait…!”

“Hm?”

“It’s not much, but please take this!”

She must be offering me the item she thinks I’d like most from what she’s carrying.

What she holds out is a large piece of candy.

“It’s not much, I know…” she says, looking embarrassed, but compared to some grand fairytale gift like a crane or a turtle might give, this kind of cute, modest present feels just right. It’s the kind of exchange that lets both sides part ways without any awkwardness.

“Well, if you insist,” I say, and she seems thrilled that I’m accepting it. “Yes, sir! ♪” she chirps, her face lighting up with a gentle smile.

I reach out to take the candy from her delighted hands.

But then…

“…On second thought, I’m good.”

“Ehh!?”

Sorry for crushing her happy expression.

But I can’t help it—I noticed something.

That right hand holding the candy? It was just getting slobbered all over by Tarou a minute ago.

She seems to have completely forgotten about it, though.

“W-Why not!? Is it because you’re not supposed to take things from strangers!?”

“No, it’s not that—”

“Salyu’s not a suspicious person! Salyu’s just really shy! Salyu is an ordinary second-year high schooler, training every day to be a bride for her future husband!”

Okay, that sounds insanely sketchy.

Wait, she’s a year older than me?

Not a second-year middle schooler?

She doesn’t even give me a chance to explain. The girl closes in, trying to force the candy on me.

“Come on! Please take this candy without any worries!”

“No way! Don’t touch me with your slobber-covered hand!”

“S-Salyu’s not drooling, I swear!?”

“Not your drool, the dog’s!”

“Salyu’s a human! Sure, people say Salyu’s puppy-like, but still!”

This is hopeless. Her brain and ears are completely broken.

Screw the age hierarchy. No way am I letting her slobbery hand touch me. I grab her head firmly to keep her at bay.

“Funyuuu~!” she squeals, making a bizarre noise as this approaching creature forces me to figure out how to handle her. That’s when I realize something.

I accidentally lifted her bangs along with her forehead.

“…Heterochromia?”

Contact lenses, maybe? Her eyes are different colors—one blue, one gold, staring right at me.

Great, another quirky trait to add to her list. But that thought lasts only a second.

Because the face of this “tiny weirdo” I’d written off turns out to belong to an absolutely stunning girl.

Every feature is sharp and distinct, making her youthful, innocent face even more radiant.

She wouldn’t look out of place as the center of an idol group. I even start wondering if her long bangs are to avoid being recognized by the general public—that’s how striking she is.

In response to my muttering, the girl, who’d been so frantic, suddenly notices how clear her vision is.

Then, with the hand not holding the candy, she checks for her bangs.

Rub, rub. Rub, rub.

No matter how much she moves her hand, all she touches is her forehead.

Slowly, her face tilts upward, her gaze meeting mine.

Her mismatched eyes lock onto me.

Wait, is she sticking out her tongue?

Is she mocking me?

Nope.

“Huh!? W-What the hell are you doing!?”

“~~~~~~~!”

Is it because I saw her face? Her heterochromia?

I don’t know. I don’t know, but she’s suddenly trying to bite her tongue off with all her might.

Do super shy people just try to off themselves when cornered?

Of course not!

“Whoa! Don’t try to die in front of people!”

“What’s with you, bangs freak…!?”

Saving the day from this once-in-a-lifetime crisis are two strangers—a guy and a girl—who come rushing over.

The girl, with a guitar slung over her back, clasps her hands together and says, “Sorry for the trouble!” to me. Meanwhile, the guy, with practiced ease, hoists Salyu over his shoulder.

The three of them vanish in the blink of an eye.

My current feelings?

An encounter with the unknown…?

Yeah… let’s not dwell on the past.

Thinking about something with no clear answer is pointless. I start walking toward the café.

For now, I really don’t want to run into her again.