1: The melancholy of the pre-perfect heroine
“Yes, getting better…”
It was early summer in Aoi Hinami’s second year of junior high, and she was in her classroom, looking at the score on her first-semester midterms.
She nodded slightly at her results—the third-highest score in the class. She’d never gotten first, but she’d moved up six positions since her third-semester finals the previous year.
Starting with her first midterm in her first year of junior high, she hadn’t dropped in the class rankings a single time—instead, she was slowly but surely inching upward.
She’d done the steady, hard work to get here, and that work was quietly paying off in the results laid out before her.
Suddenly, she realized her classmate Yuki Matsuoka was talking to her.
“Hi-chan, what rank did you get?” she asked, calling Hinami by her nickname.
Hinami paused for a second, trying to decide the best way to answer. Should she be modest, or should she play up her success to make fun of herself? She’d never done this well on a test before, so she didn’t know what response would yield the best results.
She considered a few options before settling on confidence.
“Ta-daa! Third!” She held up the paper with a pride that was just shy of arrogance.
“Wow, that’s great! Isn’t that your best rank ever?”
“Yup! I really did it!”
“Wow, you must have studied hard.”
“Or maybe I was just born with it.”
“Don’t get too full of yourself!”
The conversation bounced along, while Hinami gleaned everything she could from it.
This might be a good way to act when I get a high score. I think the key is to not act too embarrassed. She tucked the new knowledge into the stockpile of conversation skills she’d gradually accumulated over the past year.
“How about you, Yuki?” she asked.
“As usual, bottom half. Seventieth.” She held up her test.
Hinami waffled again. She’d asked the question more or less on instinct, but finding something to say now was a little hard.
She couldn’t be too positive about her friend’s rank of seventieth when she’d just admitted she was third. On the other hand, the score wasn’t quite low enough to joke about, either. If she boasted about her own high score again, that would annoy her friend.
She pieced together the information in front of her and the knowledge she already had, searching for an answer. And then she found one.
“Yeah, the math was tough this time, wasn’t it?”
She’d caught a glimpse of the score breakdown on Matsuoka’s test and noticed that the score for math was way below all the others.
Matsuoka nodded enthusiastically. “Ugh, tell me about it! The class average this time was lower than normal, too. I think it was too hard. It completely shot my rank.”
“I know what you mean. It was basically unavoidable.”
She nodded sympathetically. Technically, an overall more difficult test would have no impact on your ranking among the rest of the class, but she wanted the conversation to go smoothly.
“Guess I better study harder next time! Can you help me study for finals?”
“Ah-ha-ha. If I’m still in the mood for studying by that point, I will!”
“Something tells me you won’t be…”
“Ha, yeah.”
Hinami was somewhat in control of the conversation and managing to get a few laughs, too. Her skills were rising day by day, which left her both satisfied and relieved.
* * *
After school, Hinami sat in the basketball team’s club room, thinking about her next move.
She was making decent progress on studying. She wasn’t satisfied with where she was, but she was confident that if she kept up the same approach, she’d take the top spot by the end of the school year.
In PE, she’d been average the year before but had managed to make the top 20 percent in the first physical test of her second year. With a little more work, she could bring that rank even higher.
As for basketball, her physical strength still needed work, but she was confident she could hold her own against anyone in her year when it came to skills like shooting, dribbling, and split-second decisions.
Her friendships and her appearance were much the same.
In the first semester of her first year, she’d been satisfied with her middling status and less-polished image, but by now, in June of her second year, she was starting to take on a leadership position among the girls in her class. And now she knew the same methods she had used to gain the position could help her keep it, too.
Why? Because she’d achieved it all through simple practice.
“So next…”
All her gains so far went toward building a foundation; she hadn’t started with specific skills that produced immediate results in limited situations. Her single-minded focus was on mastering the basics.
As a result, she’d been gradually making her way upward in all aspects of her life, which gave her more self-confidence and more sway over the people around her.
In which case, it was time for a new goal, a new stage for self-improvement.
Just as she was thinking about what came next—it happened.
* * *
“Would you be my girlfriend?”
Class was over for the day, and Hinami was behind the school.
An older boy on the basketball team had just told her he liked her.
She was more than a little surprised. Of course, this wasn’t the first time someone had asked her out. Guys had been professing their love to her on a regular basis ever since the middle of her first year of junior high, once her academics, athletics, and looks had started to improve dramatically from her efforts.
But this was the first confession from someone older.
Akira Hattori was a third-year and vice president of the guys’ basketball team.
He was a regular on the court, and the other players trusted him. The younger girls liked him, too, which put him at the top of the hierarchy. He and Hinami weren’t close enough to hang out one-on-one, but they talked a lot during practices; the guys’ and girls’ teams tended to be together a lot.
“Um…”
Hinami considered the situation.
She was honestly happy he’d asked her out. It was hard proof of just how much her value had risen, and on a more personal level, she was flattered, even a little shy.
But the truth was, she wasn’t really interested in dating anyone right now. She had a plan for herself that took all her energy, and she didn’t want to give up any of the time she put into it.
Just one thing was making her unsure—her new goal. The stage for her next round of self-improvement.
The fact that an older student had asked her out for the first time in her life at this precise moment felt like a sign in answer to the question. She didn’t like the idea of unconsciously reproducing the fatalistic attitudes of her parents, but it made sense from a logical, rational perspective as well.
A student’s life comprised studying, club activities, friends—and then, she supposed, romance.
She could already see her path to the top in the first three categories, which meant giving romance a try was the natural choice.
In fact, her hard work had really paid off, if her first relationship was with a popular third-year with a high position on the social ladder. Not everyone could start the game of love from such a privileged place.
In which case, she should give it a go and analyze the outcomes.
By this point, she should have the experience and knowledge to make a solid judgment.
After thorough consideration, she grinned and gave her reply.
“I’d love to!”
* * *
Later that day, the two of them split off from their usual group and walked home together.
Hinami had gone back and forth about telling everyone they were dating, but her new boyfriend had told the other guys on the team about it as if it was no big deal. By the end of club, everyone knew.
Hattori believed that’s just what guys should do, but when Hinami considered the changes it would cause in various relationships, she wasn’t sure it was the most sensible approach. She couldn’t decide what to make of it.
After practice, the new relationship had been all her teammates could talk about in the club room.
“You’re dating Hattori?!”
“Um, yeah.”
“Why?! How’d it happen?!”
“Uh, he sent me a message asking me to meet him, and then he told me he liked me…”
“Oh my gosh!”
The girls had been bubbling with excitement, even though Hinami’s relationship was really none of their business. Now, she had multiple situations that weren’t entirely under her control.
For Hinami, who tried to push forward one inexorable step at a time, this wasn’t exactly ideal. Still, she told herself there was great value in learning that this was how romantic relationships inevitably went.
This was definitely a new arena for her—a new world she hadn’t even realized existed. It would probably be a required class for her future life, so getting her feet wet early on wasn’t a bad idea.
“I’m not surprised; you’re so cute!” The comment was tinged with jealousy.
“N-no, I’m not…,” Hinami said modestly, buying a second to think. “B-but…he’s my first boyfriend.”
“Really? No way!”
“Yeah. You’ve had a boyfriend before, right, Mayu?”
“Just for a little while in first year.”
“Will you give me advice sometimes?”
“Yeah, sure!”
She deftly rode the wave of conversation. The girlfriends of popular older boys tended to become objects of envy, so Hinami had yielded the upper hand in these relationships by admitting he was her first boyfriend. Not only had she made herself less of a threat, but she’d emphasized the superior position of the girl who’d had a boyfriend before. By asking her for future advice, Hinami fed her pride and sense of camaraderie.
On the other hand, Hinami was still dating a popular older boy, so she didn’t have to worry about her position within the team falling. The drastic change had shaken her relationships, but she was able to speak from a secure enough place to plant a solid new supporting column.
And so Hinami maintained just the right distance, sidestepping any potential jealousy and destroying any seeds of hatred.
That was a new lesson for Hinami, too, and an exciting arena to flex her muscles in.
* * *
Hinami and Hattori were walking home from school.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know everyone was gonna make such a big deal about it.”
“No, it’s fine! I didn’t think so, either.”
Of course they made a big deal; you went and told everyone, she was thinking, but she also suspected guys were less perceptive when it came to relationships. She wasn’t especially annoyed; she was simply experiencing her first day as “boyfriend and girlfriend.”
She wondered if she should change the subject, then decided to keep it casual, like before they started dating.
“How did the midterms go for you, Hattori-senpai?” she asked him.
“So-so. I’m more focused on high school entrance exams right now.”
“Ah, that makes sense.”
She liked that he was able to keep his eye on more meaningful long-term goals, not just what was right in front of him. She wondered if that extra year of life gave him a different perspective.
“Um, hey.”
“Yes?”
“Relax a little—you seem kinda stiff. You can drop the senpai.”
“…Oh.”
“We are dating, right?”
The two of them were alone together, and they were close enough to make her squirm.
She might prioritize logic above all, but she was also in the process of becoming herself, and the word dating got to her more than she expected.
“…Yes, you’re right, senpai.”
Hattori raised one eyebrow self-importantly. “Still nervous, huh?”
“Oh, guess so. Ah-ha-ha.”
“Ha-ha-ha.”
The mood suddenly relaxed. It was like the thin, transparent wall between them had crumbled again in an instant, taking their tension with it. A warm summer breeze blew past them.
“So I can call you Akira-kun then?”
“That’s fine. To start with anyway.” There was an implication in his words.
“What do you mean? Would you prefer that I drop the kun, too?”
“There you go again. Wound up tight.” He smiled teasingly, but he was also looking straight ahead instead of at her. She could tell from the shyness in his eyes that he was only pretending to be so relaxed himself.
“Hmm…?”
She peered up into his face and half forced him to make eye contact.
“So…no kun, then, Akira?”
She sounded awfully grown-up for a junior high student—and a little impish. Hattori blushed at her bluntness and started walking faster.
Hinami mused that this sort of back-and-forth was definitely going to be an important life skill for her in the future.
“What are you talking about?!” he said.
“Ooh, look, you’re blushing!”
“Am not!”
“Wait for me, Akira!”
“Geez, knock it off.”
“Why should I?”
This lovers’ banter was another fresh lesson for Hinami. She silently congratulated herself for taking on the challenge of this new experience.
* * *
The next day at lunch break, something happened that Hinami hadn’t been expecting.
“Hey, I wanted to know why you’re dating Hattori.”
“Um, well…”
Some older girls on the basketball team had asked to meet her behind the school.
Hinami was by herself, facing three third-year girls. So basically, she was doomed.
There was no way to escape this; she was just a second-year, still growing, and she didn’t have what it took to shift the mood in her favor.
“Didn’t you know Anna likes him?”
“No, I had no idea.”
“Hey, Anna, are you okay? Don’t cry.”
“Here, take a tissue.”
Hinami watched closely, analyzing the situation while Mamiko Sudo and Sayumi Hino comforted their classmate Anna Mochizuki. They’d set her up as the bad guy here.
“I’m fine… Sorry,” Mochizuki said, staring at the ground as she took the tissue from Hino.
Sudo took a step toward Hinami, obviously upset. “Do you see the problem here? Anna’s liked Hattori for more than a year. And then a second-year goes and takes him away from her. That’s messed up, don’t you think?”
“Um…”
That logic was totally absurd; they must know that. That was why they were using their numerical advantage instead. By challenging her three-on-one, they’d crush Hinami’s protests with the power of the majority.
“…I’m sorry,” Hinami apologized.
He was the one who asked me out.
I didn’t know Anna-senpai liked him.
If you’re not actually dating, what’s it to me?
She had plenty of counterarguments, and all of them were right. But it would have been a mistake to say any of them in this situation. Her only option was to apologize.
“Sorry isn’t good enough.” Sudo’s face was blank, but there was anger in her tone. “We want to know how you’re gonna make this right. Or can’t you see that yourself?”
“…Um…”
Make this right? What the heck?
Hinami thought for a moment before realizing what Sudo meant. What a hopeless, disappointing trio.
She swallowed her nausea and arranged her face into a docile expression.
These girls were telling her to break up with him.
Hinami hated people like this more than anything else.
Everything flowed as a natural consequence of what came before. If something didn’t turn out how you wanted, there was always a reason why.
Why did some people deny reality instead? Why did they blame everyone except themselves?
Naturally, fate and chance play a role in the outcomes. Sometimes you just can’t change things, and not everything is necessarily your own responsibility.
But there’s one thing you can always change on your own—yourself.
And here they were, giving up completely on their own power, instead using their numbers against a younger student because logic wasn’t on their side.
Getting what you wanted that way was dirty. Shameful.
Hinami hated that she was about to get kicked down by these sorts of people—but she kept her mouth shut.
She knew that even this predicament, this situation that was beneath her, originated with her own actions. She wasn’t a tragic heroine, and she didn’t want to blame everything on their failure to see reason.
Instead, she needed to pull together all her internal resources, all her experience and skills, and make her escape.
“…You want me to take responsibility for my actions.”
“Exactly.”
Sudo nodded. Hinami’s acknowledgment of their point seemed to put them at ease, just a tiny bit.
Hinami took advantage of that opening to mentally review their positions on the basketball team.
Mamiko Sudo, Sayumi Hino, and Anna Mochizuki.
Among the third-years on the girls’ basketball team, the three of them were somewhere between the middle and top level in terms of the school hierarchy. They weren’t quite high enough to be leaders in their class, but they were cheerful enough not to be condemned to the bottom levels. At least, that was Hinami’s impression.
In terms of their skill on the court, they were probably slightly above average. Hinami hadn’t played one-on-one with any of them lately, so she wasn’t sure, but her guess was they were all a step or two behind her.
Soon the new-player games would be taking place, and after that, the regular lineup would be chosen, and then the real games would start. By that time, Hinami figured, she’d be way better than them. And all three of them probably knew it, too.
When that happened, they’d become the third-years who lost their starter positions to a second-year.
Add to that the way they’d called her to the back of the school where no one could see them, and their position in the club. Hinami’s past experience told her that people like this were very sensitive about being demoted in the school hierarchy. Unlike the more secure members of the upper echelons, they tended to care a lot about how others saw them.
Meaning Hinami knew just how to respond.
She controlled the fearful quivering in her lips and quietly said, “…I’ll stop saying I want to play in games this year.” Then she observed their reactions.
This probably wasn’t the proposition they’d been hoping for, but it wasn’t a bad deal for them.
How would they take her offer?
“…Hmm.” Sudo gave Hino a questioning look.
Hino wavered for a few seconds, then nodded. “I think that would make up for it.”
Sudo nodded, too. “…Yeah.”
The two of them pressed their lips in a line, like they were ready to bury the hatchet, letting most of the harshness fade from their faces. Of course, they couldn’t show too much relief, because that would be the same as admitting Hinami had been a threat, so they left just a hint of hostility in their expressions for the sake of appearances.
“Okay. I’m so sorry about everything.” Relieved, Hinami apologized again to hopefully end the conversation. Although the apology sounded clumsy, Hinami was actually in control. Of course, no one besides her realized that, and the tension was steadily easing.
“Wait a second. What does that have to do with it?” asked Anna Mochizuki, the one who had supposedly suffered the original slight.
“Yes?” Hinami asked, trying to sound as sincere as possible. She didn’t want any more trouble when everything was almost settled.
Mochizuki glared at her sullenly. “You think you’d get to play? You’re only a second-year.”
Dammit.
Mochizuki was the best player of the three and the most likely to remain on the lineup even if Hinami became a starter.
Sudo and Hino had little chance of being starters anyway, so they wanted to at least protect their pride from a younger student’s pushing them off the lineup. They jumped on Hinami’s proposal.
But for Mochizuki, it didn’t really matter if Hinami became a starter, so she’d caught the arrogance beneath Hinami’s assumption that she’d be a starter in her second year at all.
“Um…”
Hinami changed tacks.
The situation demanded that she visibly atone for her actions in some way. But if she changed her offer too much, she’d appear to be throwing things out at random.
Which meant she needed to give her premise a more attractive coat of paint.
“No…it’s just that if I’m dating an older guy, they might let me play as a favor or something.”
“…Oh.” Mochizuki nodded slightly.
“So for the sake of fairness, I’m agreeing not to play while we’re dating. To make up for any potential advantage, I mean.”
She was presenting the same offer but from a different angle. Surface appearances were the key here.
It didn’t really matter whether that kind of favor was likely to happen or not. She just had to find a way to cover up any apparent presumption.
“…I guess that’s true.” Mochizuki seemed partly satisfied but still stuck on something.
She hadn’t gotten what she really wanted. Hinami was promising to make amends, but Mochizuki wouldn’t get much out of it.
Hinami made a move to break that remaining hesitation. “I’m really sorry I didn’t talk to everyone before saying I’d date him,” she said clearly, lowering her head even more in apology.
Simple performances of this sort were effective when fighting an unequal number of opponents for control of the mood. Hinami was learning that from this experience.
Sudo and Hino looked at each other and nodded.
“Well…I think that’s good enough, don’t you?”
“…Yeah.”
For them, the matter was resolved.
Hinami’s proposal had big benefits for these two.
Hinami was sure they were keeping an eye on her—and not just because she was a candidate for the regular lineup. If they accepted her offer, they’d be able to keep her in check until they graduated, at least on the court. Her penance was more than satisfactory for the two of them. Now, the game was still three-on-one, but the majority was in her favor.
“You’re okay with that, right, Anna?”
“…I guess.”
At the nudge from her former ally, Mochizuki gave a disgruntled nod. She hadn’t gotten what she wanted, but if she asked Hinami outright to break up with Hattori, she would look bad now. That path was blocked.
Sudo gave Hinami another glare for the sake of appearances. “You can leave now.”
“…Thank you. I’m sorry.”
With that final apology, Hinami turned her back on the three of them and walked away.
She went into the school from the front entrance, took out her slippers, and started toward her classroom.
She was seething.
I didn’t do anything wrong.
All I did was work as hard as I could, and I got more than they did in return. These are the rewards of the time and effort I devoted in the past. That’s all.
But then these lazy, jealous people come along and try to drag me down.
They want to make me give them something they think is theirs.
This is stupid. It’s so stupid.
All it does is hold other people back. It doesn’t add anything to their own value.
Hinami made up her mind once again.
She would never act like that.
If someone was better than her, she would accept it and emulate them, or else she would ask them to teach her.
If someone had something she wanted, she would make herself better than them and steal it from them legitimately.
After all, what mattered to her wasn’t pulling other people down.
It was clawing her way to the top with her own strength, with single-minded, even idiotic determination.
“Yes…hexactly,” she muttered to herself in the empty hallway. For once, her expression was a little childish.
* * *
“Hey, Aoi?”
“What?”
Several hours had passed.
Hinami had regained her equilibrium and was moving ahead smoothly with her studies, her sports—and her romance.
That same day, on the way home from school Hattori asked her, “Wanna come to my house?”
“…Um…”
She was caught off guard for a second. She tried to perform her usual mental calculation of the pros and cons, but really she was hesitant.
“My parents are getting home late today.”
“…They are?”
Once again, her heart skipped a beat.
They were still in junior high. Just because he was asking her over didn’t mean they would cross any major lines, but she had a strong feeling that something would happen. She wasn’t completely confident she had the capacity to handle that yet.
“I’m not sure…”
“I wanted to talk about some stuff.”
Hattori was persisting; she still wasn’t sure. On the other hand, if she went, she might get some experience to help her later.
She took a deep breath before answering.
“Okay.”
The two of them were in his room—a drab place with just a desk, a bed, and a couple of shelves. But there was a basketball lying on the floor, which was fitting for the vice president of the team.
The two of them were sitting next to each other on cushions, leaning against the edge of the bed. Hattori didn’t seem to have the courage to actually sit on the bed, which was slightly reassuring to Hinami.
“So…”
“Yeah?”
Hattori was slightly apprehensive, but Hinami’s reply was as cool as a cucumber. In truth, though, she was just better at hiding her nerves.
“They posted the starter lineup today, right?”
“Yeah.”
He was referring to the lineup for the summer games, which would be the last ones the third-year students played.
And Hinami’s name wasn’t on it.
“I was so sure you’d be picked.”
“…Really? Well, there’s not much I can do about it.”
Of course she hadn’t been chosen—she’d privately told the coach that she wasn’t interested in playing in games this year.
“Shit. I was hoping we could be starters as a couple.”
“Ah-ha-ha, nice dream.”
“I mean, how cool would that be, if the vice president was dating a second-year starter.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said with a somewhat dark smile.
“Aoi…I want to ask you something.”
“What?”
He picked up the basketball and lowered his voice a little. “You didn’t turn it down, did you?”
“…What?” She was more than a little surprised.
“I heard some of the girls were kind of jealous,” he said casually, tossing the ball up and catching it.
Her sense of satisfaction then had nothing to do with any cost-benefit ratios. He knew even without her saying that she’d been overpowered by the majority for a nonexistent crime.
“Yeah, a little,” she agreed vaguely.
Hattori sighed and dropped the ball back on the floor. “Thought so…”
“Ah-ha-ha. It’s not a big deal,” she replied with cheer in her voice.
She figured he was referring to the girls who were jealous of her for her basketball skills—not because she was dating him.
Still, she was a little happy that she could share part of the truth with someone.
“Hey, Aoi?” He was looking straight at her.
“Huh? What, Akira?” She turned toward him.
Their eyes met. The air was tense, and she was very conscious of how alone they were.
Hattori’s hand brushed her soft cheek as he lightly rested it on her shoulder. “Can I kiss you?”
For a third-year in junior high, that question took tremendous willpower to ask directly, without any games. For Hinami, who was even younger, the question was enough to completely destroy her composure.
“Um…”
Unsure what to say, she looked to her own standards for an answer.
The truth was, she didn’t see much value in having a boyfriend or kissing or anything like that. The issue was whether or not it would be a good thing to do in terms of her future prospects—that, and her current emotional, illogical confusion.
Ignoring your emotions for pure head logic was illogical in itself. Feelings were a part of being a human, so if you wanted the best calculations, you had to incorporate them into your rationale.
As for the current situation…
She’d never felt as confused or unsettled as she did at that moment—and she couldn’t afford to ignore that and focus solely on the meaninglessness of kissing him. So why then? Why was she sitting here now, so unsure about whether to take the plunge?
As she was searching for an answer, Hattori started leaning in.
His lips were getting close; there wasn’t enough time left for her to think this through.
An instant later…
…something Hattori had said earlier flashed through her mind.
“…No, stop.”
She pressed a finger to Hattori’s lips with a grown-up smile.
Hattori’s pounding heart, nerves, and anticipation were at an all-time high, so he didn’t know what to do with his emotions after the rejection.
“Wh-why?”
“Well…”
Hinami was buying time so she could explain it to him—or rather, so she could explain it to herself.
The words that had raced through her mind a second earlier were:
“I mean, how cool would that be, if the vice president was dating a second-year starter.”
When she’d heard Hattori say that, she felt the utmost contempt for him.
Could he not find enough self-worth in his own status as a starter and the vice president of the team? Did he have to compensate by adding his girlfriend’s value to his own? What a weak way of thinking. That was borderline codependency.
Of course, he probably hadn’t put that much thought into his words. Hinami recognized that he had some degree of independence; he’d exerted quite a bit of successful effort to improve himself on his own.
But she would never dare imply she’d given up on improving herself purely through her own efforts.
Hattori was still young. It was a bit much to expect him to have her strength and scrupulous correctness, but a part of her did want that from him.
Maybe he would find the strength eventually, but for now, he seemed weak to her.
She met his eyes and smiled seductively.
“Let’s take this one step at a time.”
* * *
“And then you know what Koki did?”
“No way! That’s so shady!”
The two of them were still alone in his room. But the shimmering, tantalizing atmosphere of earlier had faded to something more normal, and they were having a casual, fun conversation like they always did in the club room or on the way home.
“You’re way too good!” he complained after Hinami completely trounced him in a game. Nothing unusual there.
“No, I think I need to practice more,” she replied.
Before she knew it, it was eight at night, and a LINE message put an end to their time together.
“Oh, my parents said they’ll be back soon.”
“Really? I better go then.”
“…Yeah.”
Hattori was staring at Hinami, vaguely dissatisfied. He was a third-year junior high boy, after all, and puberty was just starting to really set in.
“…What?”
“Nothing,” he deflected. She’d rejected him once already. He didn’t have the guts or the energy to try again. But he still wanted to know something. “Have you…?”
“Yeah?”
Her answer wouldn’t change anything; he was just insanely curious.
“Have you ever kissed someone before?”
There was a silence.
Hinami batted her eyelashes and stared at him as she thought.
Then she smiled a little flirtatiously and slowly replied.
“Yes. And I’ve done more than that.”
* * *
A few weeks later, Hinami broke up with him.
There wasn’t any one big reason for doing it.
If she had to say, she just felt like the time she spent with him wasn’t really helping her grow as a person or progress toward a goal. If she needed a boyfriend at all, he would have to be more like a war buddy with similar goals so they could push each other to do better. She had no need for a guy who was just using her to feel better about himself.
The few months she spent with him had taught her some things about romance.
Of course, she didn’t think she knew everything, but she was a quick study.
By observing the fluctuations in their emotions and the changes is their relationship, she mastered the basic structure of the thing. Anything she encountered in the future would probably be a variation on that basic structure.
And based on some experiences she’d had before dating him, she’d concluded that Hattori wasn’t necessary for her.
It wasn’t anyone’s fault. They were just different people with different needs. That was all.
“—Yes!”
A few days after they broke up, Hinami was looking at a piece of paper and quietly pumping her fist.
She had the results of her first-semester finals: first place.
For the first time, she’d worked her way up to the top score.
“I’m on the right track.”
This was proof that her efforts were worthwhile, that her actions were correct. That work you put in bit by bit yields positive results—that was the inalienable truth.
I’ll be okay. I can prove myself without help from anyone else.
The sweet nectar of being right poured into the empty place inside her. But if her heart were a measuring cup, that nectar didn’t even fill it to the first mark.
“Next—”
She wouldn’t stop there.
She sprang off her first goal to make her way onward and upward.
She wasn’t flying.
She was walking with her own legs, with almost laughable ease, and with enough grinding determination to boggle the mind.
That was when she became famous not only among kids in her own grade but throughout the whole school.
She was the girl who dumped Hattori, then climbed to first place in the academic ranking, then became beautiful practically overnight.
There was no end to the list of her other minor achievements.
She was stunningly good at communicating. Most people liked and respected her.
She charged up the road to the top using the skills she’d polished, and those around her helped. It was like her path was paved by the common people. She became terrifyingly popular as a result of those strengths she’d built.
Once the fire was lit, everything else happened in an instant. People who were jealous of her flaming success tried desperately to make her fail, but that was only more proof of her perfection. If anyone could stop her, it wouldn’t be a mere junior high student.
She kept her top position in the academic rankings, and by her third year, she’d nabbed first place in the physical tests, too.
Lots of boys asked her out, but she sank their hopes one after the next.
In her eyes, they were weaklings who wanted to boost their stock by depending on another person—by being “Aoi Hinami’s boyfriend.”
When she turned down the president of the boys’ basketball team, she practically became a legend.
Her critics gradually faded away as they saw just how extreme her rejection of suitors was.
The nail that sticks out gets hammered down, but not if it sticks out far enough. She was living out the saying as she tightened her grip on her position as perfect heroine.
Eventually, she started to have fans and followers among the younger students, and one day, one of them asked her a question.
“Hinami-senpai, what kind of guy would you date?!”
The younger girls looked at her with adoring gazes. It was a simple question, typical for a teenager.
“Well…”
As the perfect heroine, Hinami searched for the right words to get them excited. But before she knew it, she was seriously considering the answer.
What kind of guy would she date?
She wasn’t sure herself.
But she did know what kind of person she didn’t want to date: the kind who got their self-worth from someone else. That was the key.
Well then, what about the reverse? What kind of person did she want to date?
She was silent for a moment—and the general shape of an answer came to her.
It wasn’t the only possible answer, but it was simple enough to satisfy her for the time being.
When she answered the girls, she kept it light and jokey.
“If he can’t beat me at something, no dice.”
A year later, she would have her fateful encounter with a certain famous video game.