Chapter Thirteen

Gloomy X Weekend

“Well then, I’m heading out,” Hiromichi said.

“Okay,” I replied. “Good luck on the battlefield of love, Big Bro.”

“Yeah...”

Hiromichi nodded in a somewhat embarrassed fashion and left the apartment. I watched him leave, waving all the while, until the door closed behind him. He seemed tired, no doubt because of yesterday’s call with Haruka. In fact, the nerves had made him toss and turn for most of the night—I hadn’t heard him snoring until 3:00AM.

“Okay, what next?”

I needed to prepare a meal for Hiromichi, so I stepped into the kitchen. Since he was planning to have lunch with Haruka, he’d probably return home for dinner. His wallet couldn’t endure the strain of eating out twice in a row. I’d be making a vegetable stir fry tonight. Seeing as the dish wouldn’t have any meat, I would use a Chinese seasoning paste to add the oiliness.

“Yawn...”

Oops. I can’t start yawning while I’m cooking with fire.

Honestly, I was a little tired myself—I mean, I knew that Hiromichi hadn’t fallen asleep until the early morning, after all. Our quarrel last night had shaken us both up. I realized I’d said too much, but there was a reason for my harsh words: Hiromichi’s knack for screwing things up had left Haruka backed into a corner. I’d pushed and prodded instead of backing down when I usually would have and ended up severely wounding his pride as a result. At least it had served as his much-needed motivation.

Last night, I’d already mentally prepared all the countermeasures and moves for when he would inevitably strike me or pin me down. Despite my frail, feminine appearance, I had trained in martial arts. It went without saying that I could hold my own in a fight.

And yet...

To my great surprise, I hadn’t been able to struggle when Hiromichi had pinned me down. I hadn’t been paralyzed with fear or anything like that—it was my own feelings that had rendered me immobile. It was like something had awakened inside of me, and I wasn’t able to ignore them any longer. As I laid there, unable to move, I’d expected something. If I don’t resist right now, how far will he go? I’d wondered.

“Hmm...”

I’d been aware of my slight affection for my stepbrother for a while. There wasn’t any specific reason or anything, but I could remember when it had started. When we’d first met, I’d admonished him for trying to “get off easy.” As a result, he’d tried his hardest to accomodate me as his new little sister. He’d struggled to call me by name, his face as stiff as a corpse. The pleasant warmth I’d felt at that time had probably sparked my initial feelings for him.

Every time I pressed his buttons, he would strive—despite his timidity—to accept me with open arms, just like a brother would. I found him so precious and adorable that it filled me with joy.

Although we called each other siblings, we had only met a month ago. At this point, I couldn’t view Hiromichi as an actual brother—this was different from what I’d feel toward a blood relative.

Us twins really can be terrifying, can’t we?

It was a given that we looked the same, but we were identical in small details, as well—down to our hairstyles, choice of shampoo, and taste in men.

That being said, these feelings would never blossom into romance; that much was obvious. Not only was Hiromichi my stepbrother, but he was also dating my biological sister. We’d simply gotten carried away yesterday, sucked in by the atmosphere and our youthful curiosity. Yes, that was it.

“Could I be feeling sexually frustrated?” I mumbled to myself. In such a cramped living space, there were... certain things a person couldn’t do. I needed to watch out for that.

I’m probably worrying over nothing.

If Hiromichi had gone any further yesterday, I would have—without a shadow of a doubt—come back to my senses and fought back.

Besides, I despise love, romance, or whatever you want to call it.

Yes, really. I loathed all things that I deemed ridiculous, and love was one of them. It caused people to lose sight of themselves, running around blindly like chickens with their heads cut off. Even worse, it often led to trouble for those around them. No, nothing good ever came from it. Others were free to act like dogs in heat if they wanted to, but I had no intention of taking part. The last thing I wanted was to be the lead role in such an inane soap opera.

As it stood, Hiromichi and I were in the perfect relationship—he acted like the perfect older brother when we were in this apartment, listening and attending to all my selfish requests. Things were fine the way they were.

Still...

“Unfortunately, it looks like I’ve gotten myself wrapped up in this inane soap opera,” I muttered to myself as I plated the stirfry.

There was just one—admittedly major—problem: my sister. Due to a coincidence of astronomical proportions, I’d begun living with Haruka’s boyfriend. Any way you sliced it, this was a difficult situation. We couldn’t let this secret come to light while Hiromichi and I still lived alone, but it would still be a major bombshell to drop once our parents returned in a year. Either way, I knew Haruka wouldn’t be able to remain calm—not after finding out that her boyfriend lives with her identical twin.

If we viewed this as the inane soap opera it really was, it was obvious that our living situation would cause major conflict. Haruka was the star, after all, and I was just the stagehand—an outsider who’d gotten swept up in the revelries of romance. As such, it was my responsibility to set the scene. I wouldn’t have lifted a finger if this had happened to a complete stranger, but Haruka was my sister. I would lend a helping hand for her, though I wouldn’t overextend myself.

I’d loved my long-lost sister ever since we were kids.

As kids, she’d always complained—verging on the brink of tears—whenever I’d received the larger slice of cake or trounced her at a game. Sure, she’d been a handful, but whenever I’d given up my slice of cake or artfully lost on purpose, she wore the most sincere, innocent smile. Seeing that always made me far happier than winning first place or enjoying more dessert.

Yes, more than anything, I’d always loved seeing Haruka’s joyful face. That hadn’t changed, and as someone who cared deeply for her sister, what could I do in this situation?

“Well then...”

Truth be told, there was a foolproof solution for this strange relationship, including the unease it would spawn. Hiromichi—being the dunce that he was—hadn’t realized it, but the problems arising from our living situation could be solved in one fell swoop. And, to make things even better, it could be done as quickly as tomorrow, not in a year.

How, you might ask? It was simple enough.

I arranged the rice, stir fry, soup, and cutlery on the tea table, covered the meal, and left a note beside it. It read, “I’ll be home late tonight. Have dinner without me.”

With all that out of the way, I took out my phone and selected a contact. “Hello, is this Aizawa?” I asked.

X X X

I waited in front of the clock by the train station, which indicated it was 2:00PM. Aizawa showed up right on time.

“Yo, Shigure!” he called out. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“Hello, Aizawa. Sorry for the sudden invitation—you weren’t busy, were you?”

“Nah, not at all. I mean, I’m the one who’s always asking you out, right?”

It was true—ever since I’d transferred, he’d asked me out practically every day. Akira Aizawa—the pre-eminent fuckboy of Seiun’s AP classes—grinned, showing off his pearly whites. His slim silhouette, along with the refreshing color palette of his clothes, gave off a cool vibe. He sported rougher attire compared to his usual blazer, dressed in a white graphic tee and skinny jeans. And, to tie the whole ensemble together, he wore a number of accessories around his wrists and neck, carefully selecting just enough pieces to not come across as gaudy.

In any case, he couldn’t have been more different from Hiromichi, who thought a collared shirt paired with checkered patterns was peak fashion. In fact, I doubt my poor, passé step brother even owned a bracelet.

Incidentally, I’d also put more thought into my outfit than usual. I’d gone with a traditional, feminine outfit that I thought would be the best match for my school persona. More importantly, though, I was confident that it would be a hit with the guys. I generally never wore this pink, flowy dress because it was a pain to wash. I’d also matched it with a casual jacket that was light enough to wear during summer and strapped, high-heeled sandals which exposed my feet. To top it all off, I’d applied a thin layer of gel polish to my nails and a bit of makeup.

That being said, everyone knew Aizawa was a player who liked to speed run getting girls into the sack. As long as you had two X chromosomes, you were fair game. Clothes hardly mattered to him. But still, it wasn’t like I could’ve shown up in a tracksuit. This was a date, after all.

“But seriously, I’m over the moon,” Aizawa added. “I never expected you to call me.”

“Well, you were just so enthusiastic and persistent about it. I thought this might be fun now that our midterms are out of the way. Good thing you were free.”

“Anywhere you wanna go? If not, I’ll be your guide. I know this town like the back of my hand.”

“I’ll leave it to you, then. After all, I’m pretty new here.”

“Nice! Let’s go grab some bubble tea! I know a good place nearby.”

Aizawa grabbed my hand and started walking, casual as could be. It couldn’t have felt more natural. He was clearly experienced with this sort of thing after plenty of practice. The two of us couldn’t have been any different from Hiromichi and Haruka, who had taken an entire month to hold hands.

And so I found myself on a date with Aizawa. It wasn’t because I had any interest in him—no, he was simply an instant solution to the enormous problem between me, my brother, and my sister. The short and sweet of it was that I planned on getting into a relationship.

Having a boyfriend would soften the impact of our living situation. Even if Haruka were to find out about me and Hiromichi tomorrow, my “relationship” would lessen the blow overall. Neither of my sibling relationships would fracture over something as ridiculous as romance.

I’d chosen Aizawa because I felt no guilt over using him. Yes, even I had a conscience and lines which I wouldn’t cross. If, for example, I started dating someone like Mr. Muscles—another guy I didn’t have even the slightest romantic inclination for—I’d be plagued by chest pains.

Additionally, a relationship based on false emotions could collapse at any moment, although I needed this one to last for at least an entire year. I was certain that if I put out for Aizawa, he would go along with my lie. I had no intention of criticizing his playboy ways, so we could maintain this relationship through force of habit. There wasn’t a more convenient man around for my circumstances.

That’s why I was confident that this had to be the most amicable solution for all of us, even me—caught in the middle as I was.

“The owner here is goated,” Aizawa said. “He’ll give you extra tapioca pearls for free.”

“I wasn’t aware that boys liked bubble tea.”

“Yeah, I love this shit. Drink it for at least one meal every day.”

We swapped friendly banter that required little-to-no brain power and placed our orders. I bought a matcha latte, and Aizawa ordered milk tea. We grabbed our drinks and went outside, where girls usually liked to sit. Not a bad decision.

Too bad I hate bubble tea.

Well, no, that wasn’t quite it—I didn’t necessarily dislike bubble tea; I just hated the business model. Seeing as I came from a poor household, eating anything with an extremely low cost-benefit ratio set my teeth on edge.

“Still, it’s nice to see you in casual clothes,” Aizawa remarked. “The rich girl look suits a traditional gal like you.”

“Aha, you think too highly of me. I might come across as a delicate maiden, but I’m actually quite a bully.”

“Oh shit, you can bully me anytime! That bracelet’s pretty cute, too. Did you pay a lot for it?”

“This old thing? I bought it at a random street stall.”

“Seriously? You must be one hell of a treasure hunter. Next time I go shopping, you gotta come help me pick out my drip.”

“Speaking of which, that’s a pretty interesting necklace. Is that a bolt?”

“Yeah, it’s the screw for my head. It fell out the other day, so I put it on a necklace for safe keeping. If I hadn’t lost the damn thing, I could’ve scored better on the midterms.”

“Oh my God!” I laughed. “You’re too funny!”

Aizawa and I made small talk about my casual clothes. That was a smart move on his part. Seeing as we both attended the same school, we could have discussed our classes and so forth, but that would’ve been a poor choice for a date. After all, commisterating about school might have been fun, but it didn’t make a person happy. On the other hand, being complimented on your looks did.

Although the two emotions—enjoyment and happiness—might have felt similar, they were completely different. The former often led to friendship, while the latter had the potential to lead to romance. If a guy didn’t understand these fundamental differences and pursued nothing but enjoyment, he would end up perpetually stuck in the friend zone. Sure, he and his love interest might open up to one another, but the gap between them would never shrink.

Of course, this pick-up artist understood the nature of emotions all too well. We spoke alone for about 20 minutes, chatting about this and that. Somehow, he never managed to wear me out—no doubt because he often inserted humor into the conversation,

“Huh? Is that you, Ai? Getting bubble tea with another girl?” a feminine voice called out.

“You’re gonna get fat,” another girl chimed in. “That stuff’s liquified fast food.”

A group of two guys and two girls approached our table. At a glance, they appeared to be huge EDM fans—well, that was my initial impression, at least. As they chatted with Aizawa, they also stole glimpses of me.

“Looks like our little Ai’s brought another date here,” one of the girls noted.

“Seriously? He sure goes through ’em quick, doesn’t he?” one guy said.

“I can’t tell if chicks love him or hate him,” the other guy added with a laugh.

“What are you assholes even doing here? And Mio, don’t call her another date,” Aizawa retorted.

“Are these your friends, Aizawa?” I asked.

“Sorry about this, Shigure,” he replied. “Looks like we’ve run into a group of real dickheads. These are my friends from middle school. All of them were too stupid to get into Seiun, so feel free to point and laugh.”

“Wow, rude!” one of the girls cried.

“Your name’s Shigure, right?” the other asked. “Did you hear what he just said? If I were you, I wouldn’t touch this jerk with a ten-foot pole!”

“Oh c’mon. Will all of you just shut the hell up?” Aizawa groaned.

Aizawa tried to run them off with a troubled expression, but the group refused to budge. They were acting like Christmas had come early or something.

Eventually, Aizawa appeared to give up. “Well, since it’s come to this, why don’t the six of us hang out together?” he suggested.

Seeing as I didn’t feel all that strongly about spending one-on-one time with Aizawa, I agreed. The group made plans in the blink of an eye, and I found myself getting whisked away to a bowling alley at a nearby recreational facility.

“Wow, another strike!” one of the girls shouted. “You’re so good at this, Shigure!”

“High-five! Give me some skin!” the other cheered.

“Your form is beautiful,” one of the guys noted. “Do you play sports or something? You’re not built like your average chick.”

“I did full-contact karate from third grade until I moved here a little while ago,” I replied.

“Martial arts?! Damn, I never would’ve guessed! You look like one of those fancy, upper-class types!”

“She’d probably kick your ass, Ai!” his friend said with a laugh.

“Nah, I doubt that,” Aizawa scoffed. “Have you seen how shredded my abs are?”

“Those are just for show, dude. Sure, you work out, but you haven’t played a day of sports in your life. There’s no way in hell you could beat someone with real fighting experience.”

With the whole gang together, the excitement level rose to a fervor. The group celebrated every little damn thing. Whenever someone landed a strike, we might as well have been at a festival. It was exhausting. I couldn’t understand what they found so exhilarating. I mean, there were only a few events in life worth jumping for joy over, right? To make matters worse, the group seemed to disregard my bewilderment and insisted on placing me in the center of the hubbub.

The two girls relentlessly clung to me, trying to engage me in various topics. Meanwhile, the two guys stood off at a slight distance, acting like frenzied apes with their unnecessary overreactions. Aizawa—who no doubt assumed that I must have felt uneasy being in a group of total strangers—sidled up to me and chivalrously protected me from the overbearing group.

This perfect formation must have been plotted beforehand.

Meeting Aizawa’s friends at the café hadn’t been a coincidence—no, he’d undoubtedly invited them from the very beginning. Or perhaps the five of them had agreed to hang out today, and my presence had changed their plans. One thing was for certain, though: if Aizawa had plotted this from the beginning, he could become the top host of any club in Japan.

Dates were generally a one-on-one affair. A lot of men failed to see past this fixed idea, but women thought differently. For them, the breadth of her partner’s social circle was even more important than his looks. Aizawa knew this and wanted to show off a world that revolved around him.

“Look at how fun everything is with me,” he seemed to be saying, as if offering something entirely out of the ordinary.

Since I thought nothing of him, his grandstanding had no effect on me. However, for women who did like him—in other words, those who willingly approached the school’s most notorious playboy, longing for adventure—Aizawa must have seemed like a knight in shining armor, someone who would whisk them away from their boring, hum-drum routine.

I couldn’t recall his ranking during midterms, but he was in Seiun’s junior-year AP class. He would probably get into a decent college. If he started working at a trading company, he would likely become a capable businessman.

“Hmm...”

While I contemplated Aizawa’s incredible shrewdness, I came to find him...

Absolutely repulsive.

Of course, that wasn’t his fault. Just as I’d expected, he was “kind” to women. For my purposes, there couldn’t have been a more convenient man. I had no complaints there.

That being said, I’d seen this method once before—about 10 years ago, in fact. I couldn’t stop myself from remembering my mother’s secret lover, the man who had torn my family apart.

X X X

My biological father was 10 years older than my mother. While my mother was a swimsuit model-turned-actress, my father was an editor at a mid-sized publishing company. Although I wasn’t aware of where my parents had met, I knew they’d gotten engaged while my mother was 22 and my father was 32. After they’d gotten married, my mother had quit her job to give birth to me and my sister.

The family portrait within my memory was a joyful, harmonious one. At that time, I’d never doubted the permanence of that depiction. However, when I reflected back on it, I realized that my parents’ marriage had always been imbalanced.

When Haruka and I had become aware of our surroundings, our mother had still maintained her radiant youth and beauty. As young children, she had been our pride and joy—hearing how much we resembled her had always made us happy. Our father, on the other hand, wasn’t very handsome. As a desk worker, he’d quickly let himself go, receding hairline and all. I think it was the hair loss that acted as the straw that broke the camel’s back, as it seemed to bother him as well. In comparison to our perpetually beautiful mother, he’d probably developed an inferiority complex.

Perhaps in an attempt to compensate through money, he’d become a workaholic. He hadn’t just come home late—more and more often, he’d stay at work overnight.

Haruka and I repeatedly asked when our father would be returning, only to be met with the same response each time.

“You father has a lot on his plate right now,” our mother had always replied. “He’s working very hard for us.”

I’d retained strong memories of these dinner table exchanges due to the frequency of my father’s absence. And the less we saw of him, the more another man—Takashi Takao—began to visit.

“Oh, so your names are Haruka and Shigure,” he’d said when we’d first met. “The two of you are just as beautiful as your mom.”

Takashi Takao still regularly appeared in TV dramas, but we’d met him when he was barely 19 or 20 years old. We’d been introduced at a barbeque held by one of our mother’s friends from her acting days. It had been another weekend without my father, so my mother had decided to take us to the party.

The man possessed androgynous features, well-maintained skin, and a mop-top hairstyle streaked with red highlights. Everything about him—from his flawless skin and nails to his fashionable piercings—gave off a dainty, gentle impression. I vividly remembered my first impression being, “How can a man be so beautiful?”

Haruka had taken an immediate liking to Takao, but I hadn’t from the get-go. My opinion of him never changed, either. Even as a child, I’d felt uneasy about his relationship with our mother.

When Takao began staying at our house for long periods of time, that uneasiness had only grown. Our mother, who had loved and doted on us so much until then, would ignore us whenever she spent time with him.

Of course, these audacious, secret meetings hadn’t lasted very long. Our father had uncovered our mother’s infidelity in no time at all. Despite the fact, I could barely remember them arguing over it. Perhaps our father had felt so guilty that he hadn’t been able to muster any anger toward our mother. At that time, if our father had shown his emotions—perhaps even if he’d rebuked her through violence—things might have turned out differently. Hadn’t our mother continued the trysts—without even a single attempt to hide them—because she’d expected that passive reaction?

Now that I was older and more mature, I had a whole slew of thoughts on the matter. I had no way of confirming anything, though, as it was all in the past.

At any rate, our parents had gotten a divorce. Our family—which I’d naively believed to be permanent—had broken apart. Haruka and I had started living in separate households. I stayed with our mother, and she with our father.

Naturally, our mother had run to Takao for support, but—as you might expect from a man who had seduced a wife with two kids—he wasn’t exactly the greatest human being. “This whole thing was fresh and exciting when it was an affair. Now that you’re divorced, you’re just a middle-aged hag with two kids. You really think I’d stay with you?” he’d spat at her.

My mother had spent days drowning in her own tears, but I couldn’t bring myself to pity her. After destroying our family, ripping me apart from my sister, and thoroughly manipulating everyone around you, this is what you’ve come to? I’d thought coldly. How foolish she’d been.

Since then, I hadn’t clung to fantasies of love and romance that had been so typical among girls of my age. That still hadn’t changed, and I had no intention of doing so in the future. After all, I’d hate to become the star of that inane soap opera, remember?

X X X

“Man, that was fun,” one of Aizawa’s friends exclaimed.

“But wow, Shigure won by one hell of a lead,” the other noted.

“I’m dying here. Never thought I’d lose at bowling,” Aizawa lamented with a sigh.

“Aha. And you’re usually so good at co-ed sports, Ai. Only co-ed sports, though.”

We walked along a pedestrian bridge that led to the train station and reminisced about our recent bowling experience. It was already 7:00PM. Because we were quickly approaching the summer solstice, the tail-end of the lengthening days still burned crimson in the darkness. Before long, night would fall in earnest.

Naturally, this crowd wasn’t the type to disperse just because it was getting late, so the conversation turned to plans for the evening.

“Hey, what should we do now?” one of the girls asked.

A boy who’d arrived later than me chimed in by mimicking throwing back a drink. “Do you even have to ask? What else is there to do on a Saturday night?”

“Get turnt!” everyone cried in unison.

Obviously, they weren’t talking about getting jacked up on bubble tea, and I didn’t exactly feel like tagging along. It probably came as no big surprise, but I’d never had a drop of alcohol in my life. I had no idea how it would affect me, and I wasn’t willing to find out in front of strangers.

“Then let’s stop by the convenience store and head over to Masa’s place,” Aizawa suggested. “You coming with us, Shigure?”

It went without saying that this group had been hunting down some sort of prey like me, so I just didn’t want to let my guard down. There was no doubt they were planning to drag me into their little circle, get me drunk, and have their way with me. That was probably the fastest way of “conquering” a young girl with shyness befitting her age.

But in this particular case, I’d come here with that plan in mind, and it was time to pull it off. I’d “interacted” with Aizawa enough to justify liking him, so there was no reason to needlessly kill my brain cells. I’d pull him away from the rest of the group and seduce him. It was a win-win situation, since it shortened the meaningless process on his end. as well. He would have no reason to refuse.

“Listen,” I said, turning to face Aizawa. I was about to continue when I noticed something in the park below us and froze up. “Huh...?”

My field of vision lurched, as though struck by lightning, and my heart pounded so strongly inside my chest that I feared it might burst out. Sweat erupted from every pore, much like after stepping into a sauna. Yet, at the same time, the core of my body froze, and I was assaulted in chills.

I feel... sick...

I unthinkingly clamped a hand over my mouth as my organs revolted inside my body. Something far, far denser than gastric fluids boiled at the bottom of my stomach. Whatever it was, it threatened to spew from my mouth at any given moment.

Why... huh? Why am I... over something like... this...

“Huh? What’s wrong? Hey Shigure, you’re coming with us, right? We’re buddies now, aren’t we?” Aizawa asked.

“Urgh...” I groaned.

“Shigure? What are you staring at?”

“Sorry, but I seem to be feeling a little under the weather. I’m gonna go home,” I apologized.

“No way!” one of the girls protested. “You looked fine just a minute ago, cutie!”

“Yeah!” one of the guys agreed. “You’re our MVP! You can’t just bail on us!”

“Don’t worry—we’re not busting out any of the hard stuff.”

“Exactly. The night’s just getting started!”

“Hey, cut that shit out,” Aizawa rebuked his friends. “You do look pretty pale, so I won’t force you to come with us. Still, it’ll be a pain in the ass to ride the train if you’re feeling that crappy. I know a good place to rest around here—c’mon, let’s go.”

Aizawa wrapped an arm around my shoulders. In other words, if things didn’t go according to plan, he’d get forceful.

I had no interest in love or romance. I found them to be the most absurd, abhorrent things in this world. So naturally, I wasn’t too fixated on my virginity either. Someday, I would lose it to no one in particular. Whoever that ended up being wasn’t much of an issue. Even the most ill-reputable sort of playboy would do... At least, that’s what I had always thought.

For some reason, though, right now...

Everything about him disgusted me, from his breath on my hair and his hand on my shoulder, to his vulgar desires directed at my body. Everything.

“Well then, let’s go,” Aizawa repeated. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.”

“I said... I’m going... home,” I murmured.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you,” he asked, his grip around my shoulder tightening. I felt his nails digging into my skin. “You’re not getting away,” the gesture asserted.

At that moment, my body moved of its own accord. I crouched to free myself from Aizawa’s grip and spun sideways. My horizontal kick skimmed the ground and swept Aizawa’s legs out from under him. As he fell backward, I lifted my knee and raised my foot up in the air. Once he’d made contact with the ground—looking dumbfoundedly up at the sky—I brought my foot down a hair’s width away from his face. The heel of my sandle buckled and broke off, unable to withstand the sudden force.

“I said I’m going home!” I shouted at him.

No one from the group chased after me.

X X X

The air around the group had frozen over, consumed by Shigure’s scream. As she fled, her back becoming a pinprick in the distance, it finally began to thaw. Office workers and cram school students—the latter of which were attending seminars in front of the station—were starting their journeys back home. Amidst this hubbub, Aizawa’s friends gathered around his fallen body.

“H-Hey, you still with us, Ai?” one asked.

“That was legit scary. What’s with her, suddenly blowing a fuse like that? Totally unladylike.”

“What should we do, Aizawa? Chase after her?”

“Huh? You wanna kidnap her?”

In response to these comments, Aizawa shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine. We weren’t really hitting it off, even from day one. Also...”

“Also?”

“I think... I just came a little.”

“What the hell, man?!” everyone shouted in unison.