Bonus Short Stories

Summer Means Momotaro

“What?! Kai-kun, you haven’t heard of Momotaro?!” Nanaka exclaimed with the most shocked expression that Kai had ever seen her wear. Her surprise was on the same level as if she’d met a Japanese person who had never eaten rice before.

Their club activities ended in the morning during the final days of summer break, so Kai and Nanaka had been walking through the heat of high noon on their way back from Niigata Station. Neither of them had completed their summer homework, so they’d been in the middle of saying how they should finish it together when Nanaka had suddenly stopped in front of the convenience store. Out of nowhere, she’d asked, “You wanna grab a Momotaro?”

Kai hadn’t understood. Well, of course, he knew of the Peach Boy folktale. If the store she was pointing at had been a pet shop instead of a convenience store, maybe he could have made sense of it: maybe she was saying, “Let’s buy a dog, monkey, and pheasant if they have them.” In that case, all he needed to do was ignore the context of the conversation... And the necessity of buying a dog, monkey, and pheasant... and the fact that no pet shop would carry a monkey or pheasant... and the fact that it really didn’t make any sense in the first place—on second thought, he couldn’t understand.

So finally, Kai had been forced to openly display his confusion. “M-Momotaro?” he asked cautiously.

As a result, Nanaka had become utterly stunned—more so than Kai had ever seen. Truthfully, he wanted to be the one acting surprised, but she had beaten him to it and was now shaking her head in disbelief, as if she’d seen a ghost. “Summer means Momotaro!” she then declared with vigor, balling up her fists and leaning forward excitedly.

Unfortunately, even with her energetic response, Kai was still very confused. “...Are you going to buy kibi dango?” he guessed, trying to sort through all the possibilities in his mind.

For a moment, Nanaka’s expression turned serious, but in the next instant she was covering her mouth and laughing. Her surprise had circled all the way back to humor. It seemed his statement had struck her in her funny bone, as she slapped at his shoulder while desperately trying to calm down.

“Th-That’s not what I meant,” she gasped. “Oh, gosh... But wow, you really haven’t heard of it, huh?” Without any warning, she grabbed him by the hand and led him into the convenience store. Their destination was the ice cream cooler right by the entrance.

“This!” she exclaimed. Without a moment’s hesitation, Nanaka had pulled out a pink popsicle. Kai could clearly make out the name ‘Momotaro’ printed on the packaging.

...I see, he thought. So that’s what she meant.

Nanaka took two popsicles and went straight to the register. As soon as they stepped outside, she said, “Here,” and handed him one.

“We’re eating them here?” he asked.

“Yup.”

“Le—”

“I’ll be treating you to your first Momotaro,” Nanaka said, completely cutting him off just as he was about to say, ‘Let me pay you back.’ She continued, “You should hurry up and eat. It melts really fast.”

Kai opened the packaging as Nanaka nodded toward the ice cream. He already had a mental image from the wrapper, but the peachy-pink color of the popsicle inside was so exaggerated it was almost refreshing. He nervously bit at the tip only to be met with the sensation of ice crumbling into his mouth. Instead of the usual hard, slippery, frozen treat, the texture was akin to shaved ice that had been compressed into a bar. Every bite gave a satisfying, icy chew, and the tiny shards of ice melted in his mouth.

Now he understood why Nanaka’d told him it would melt quickly—with how hot it was, the whole thing would disappear in an instant. Perhaps this was meant to be obvious (what with the packaging and color), but the melting ice filled his mouth with a fruity chill that was vaguely peachy. Just like shaved ice, the cold flavor threatened to freeze his brain if he ate too fast.

But man, Kai thought, this is—

“Was it good?” Nanaka asked with a smile. Her head popped into view the very second that he’d finished eating, as if she’d been lying in wait.

“...Yeah,” he admitted. “I almost want to buy a few more to take home.”

“Hehe, right?”

That really was delicious, Kai thought. It was refreshing despite its sweetness, and the taste had a curious quality that was hard to describe. I can see why she went as far as to say, “Summer means Momotaro.”

“Now, this is a bit sudden,” Nanaka said smugly. Raising her index finger, she continued, “But here’s a pop quiz for you.”

“Quiz?” Kai replied.

“If you get it wrong, then... Oh, uh. Um, how about you have to listen to one order from me?” she suggested.

“Uh, well... sure.” Taken aback by the snap decision, Kai simply nodded along.

“Ahem,” Nanaka cleared her throat. In her best game-show-host voice, she began, “Now then, you’ve had a good taste of Momotaro ice cream.”

“Yep,” Kai agreed.

“What flavor was it?”

“............What?”

“What flavor was it?”

“‘What flavor?’” Kai asked in confirmation.

“What flavor?” Nanaka replied with a nod.

“The Momotaro?” he asked again.

“The Momotaro,” she replied with another nod.

“It’s... It’s peach, right?”

“...Is that your final answer?”

“Yeah.” Even if Kai wanted to mull it over, he’d already finished the popsicle, so he couldn’t double-check. To be completely honest, he wasn’t absolutely confident in his answer, but come on, it had to be peach. If Peach Boy’s ice cream was melon-flavored or something he’d lose it.

Nanaka groaned, “Mmmmmm...” with much ado, and finally flashed Kai a mischievous grin. “Bzzt!!!”

“What?” Kai demanded. “Seriously?”

“Yup,” she replied. “The correct answer was: strawberry-flavored!”

Huh? Kai instinctively looked at the wrapper in his hand. Yeah, it says ‘Momotaro’ on it. Not ‘Orangetaro’; not ‘Melontaro’; it says ‘Momotaro’ on it. ‘Momo’ as in peach. For good measure, he brought up the packaging to eye level and showed it to Nanaka. “Not peach?” he asked.

“Not peach,” she answered with a nod. “It’s strawberry.” Kai flipped to the ingredients list on the back in disbelief, but Nanaka simply said, “Oh, the only fruit on the back of the package is apple, since there’s a bit of that in there, too.”

“Apple?!”

“Apple,” Nanaka repeated with a gentle nod. She seemed to be quite fond of nodding today.

I see, Kai reasoned. So, peaches are made of strawberries and apples—that doesn’t make any sense. He pulled out his smartphone to look it up, and apparently the frozen snack was infamous as being a bit of a local mystery in Niigata. Everywhere he looked, he found posts from people just like him who’d been shocked that this Momotaro ice cream was strawberry-flavored (and made with apple juice, to boot).

“Okay then,” Nanaka said, “Since you got it wrong, I’ll have you listen to my request.”

“Oh, right,” Kai mumbled. He had completely forgotten. If he’d been with Aina or Eru, he would have prepared himself for the worst (for completely different reasons), and he was sure Aya would have said something annoying about gacha spending.

But with Nanaka, he wasn’t all that worried. Maybe she’ll ask me to help with her summer homework, like we talked about earlier, he thought. Whatever the case, Kai was sure that it would be something of that nature, but he found himself completely off the mark.

“Today was my treat, right? So... next summer, I want you to treat me... How about it?” Nanaka put her words together while carefully observing Kai’s reaction. Her mannerisms brought a certain memory to mind: the fireworks festival that took place a few days prior. Their talk of the future amidst the beautiful flowers of color blooming and wilting in the night sky came flooding back—and with it, their promise to go again next year, the year after that, and even after that.

“And then,” Nanaka continued, “I’ll give you another quiz, Kai-kun. If you get the question right, you can give me an order next time... What do you think?”

“...In that case,” Kai boldly ventured, “let me tell you this now: if I get it right, my request will be for you to treat me to another popsicle the year after.” And the year after that, and the year after that, he thought. Someday in the future, beyond the word ‘someday’ itself... I want to spend my summers eating this strange ice cream with you.

For a moment, Nanaka’s eyes went wide with surprise, but a large, dimpled smile appeared as she said, “Yup! For sure! It’s a promise!”

June Bride

In early June, the Meikun High Social Game Club had finally finished their collaboration with Tsukigase’s Rondo team, and semester exams were right around the corner.

“Whoooooooooaaaaaaaaa?!!!” Aya screamed.

“...How about you go and die, dear?” Eru suggested pointedly.

“Eru,” said Nanaka, chastising her friend, “you can’t just say things like that.”

“Well,” Kai interjected, “she is being obnoxiously loud... Aya, what happened?” As soon as he asked, Aya thrust forth the smartphone that her eyes had been glued to. It was on an announcement page for a social game titled Beautiful Story, managed by another high school called Kongouin Academy.

“There’s absolutely, unmistakably, 100% going to be a swimsuit gacha soon...!” Aya explained hotly. “And these monsters are going to add new versions of their characters in bridal outfits! I’ll never have enough points for all of these!”

“I feel like you never have enough points to begin with,” Kai quipped.

“‘Bridal outfits’...?” Nanaka echoed. “Oh, I get it! They’re June brides.”

“It’s a classic trope when it comes to social games,” Kai elaborated.

Seasonal events were an important part of social game management. Spring had flower viewing and girls’ day; summer had swimsuits and yukata; autumn had Halloween and moon viewing; winter had Christmas and New Year’s. However, there were time periods that lacked strong motifs, and implementing a seasonal event during one of those parts of the year was seriously tough. In particular, characters that debuted in June needed to have immense appeal, since the users were often tightening their purses for the inevitable summer swimsuit gacha. As a result, bridal costumes were a staple in any social game revolving around female characters.

“This is such a cookie-cutter tactic,” Eru criticized. “And they call themselves planners?”

“W-Well...” Kai said, “It’s important to live up to your users’ expectations.”

“And this fool is using his users as a shield,” Eru further pressed. With a “Hmph,” she damaged Kai with a painfully disdainful glare.

Maybe she’s not a fan of drawing bridal outfits, he thought.

“Eru,” Nanaka asked, “do you not like wedding dresses?”

“I like the outfits themselves, dear,” Eru answered. “But... why do I have to send out my girls to go marry some faceless nobodies?!”

...Oh, right. I see. Kai wasn’t sure what to make of Eru’s assertion that their users were ‘nobodies,’ but her statement wasn’t unpersuasive. Now that they understood what she’d meant, both he and Nanaka looked at one another and felt their shoulders droop.

“Whatever, leave that idiot alone,” Aya cut in. “What are we gonna do for our gacha banner at the end of this month?”

“The truth is,” Kai said, “that’s exactly what I wanted to talk about.” They’d all been incredibly busy recently, but finally had some spare time on their hands. It wasn’t much time, but he wanted to fit in updates wherever they could. “We barely have any time, so I was thinking two—or if that’s too much, one—preexisting character should get a new seasonal costume.”

“...What even is there other than bridal stuff?” Aya wondered.

“Hmm,” Nanaka murmured, tilting her head. “What about hydrangeas?”

“Ahh,” Aya nodded along, “that does sound pretty June-y.”

“Give me a moment, dear,” said Eru, who pulled out her pencil and sketchbook and quickly began to draw. All of their gazes were fixed on the paper, and she completed her sketch in the blink of an eye. It was of a smiling Nanaka, holding a single cluster of hydrangeas in front of a flower bed. “...It’s cute,” Eru mused critically, “but maybe a bit dull.”

“W-Why is it of me?” Nanaka asked.

“It would take me too long to try and draw up a new character,” Eru replied.

“O-Okay...” said Nanaka.

Kai wondered why Eru didn’t simply use one of the characters that she’d already made for their game, but the profoundly cute drawing was so appealing that he couldn’t bear to say it out loud. There was nothing ‘dull’ about it.

“I think we should go with rain,” Aya suggested. “It’s the rainy season, and Niigata gets hit especially hard. Don’t you think it’d be nice to see a character’s childish side with her all bundled up in a raincoat?”

“Give me a moment,” Eru said again, as she began to draw yet another illustration. This one depicted Nanaka wearing a large raincoat with a clear umbrella in her hands. She was using her long rain boots to splash around in a puddle.

“...Couldn’t you have chosen Ah-chan instead of me this time?” Nanaka questioned.

“She looks like a kid whether she’s wearing a raincoat or not,” Eru retorted. “There wouldn’t be any gap, dear.”

“...Senpai?” said Aya, turning to Kai.

“What?” he asked.

“If we go with the raincoat,” she said pointedly, “I’m definitely putting a bug in the code.”

“You can’t just keep taking the code hostage...” Kai protested.

“N-Now, now,” said Nanaka, breaking up the glaring contest that had started between the other two girls. She waved her hands to calm them down, and let out a small sigh. “Then... I guess all that’s left is a June bride?”

“...Fine,” Eru said. “Give me a moment.”

Now on their third repetition, everyone knew what was going to happen: Eru opened up a new page in her sketchbook and began to scratch away with her pencil. However, this time, there was a strange sense of premonition in the air. As the lines on the page got closer to completion, everyone’s stares grew more and more focused on the movement of Eru’s hand. Finally, when the drawing was well beyond the state of being a mere sketch, she put her pencil down.

Nanaka was holding a bouquet of flowers and wearing a beautifully embellished wedding dress. Her smile was at the same time both vividly clear and meekly bashful, and created a blessed atmosphere of happiness that gripped Kai by the heart with a single look.

Remarkably—truly remarkably, Kai looked up to meet the gazes of Eru and Aya, and all of them nodded together.

“This is it,” he announced.

“Indeed,” Eru agreed.

“Yep,” Aya followed.

“This is kinda embarrassing...” Nanaka had begun to murmur with rosy cheeks, but the other three completely ignored her and June brides became their upcoming motif by majority vote.

Later on, after they’d finished all the prep work, an impassioned Eru howled, “It’s heeeeeeeere!!!” on two separate occasions, her eyes rolling back and her mouth foaming both times.

At the end of the month, they were left with not one, but two new character designs. The artwork for the two brides had been designed so that they could be lined up side-by-side, and they were a huge hit with the user base.

Parental Approval

After parting with Aya and Aina, the evening sun lit Kai’s path home as he walked alongside Nanaka and Eru. Nanaka stood in the center of their formation, with Kai taking up the left side that faced the road, and Eru strolling along the right.

It wasn’t as if they’d had an argument. Nothing in particular had gone wrong. Still, the air between them was a little strained and... awkward.

Eru alone said, “What a wonderful feeling,” and had broken out into a smile.

Aina was the root cause for every single minute detail of this uncomfortable scenario.

◇

Some thirty minutes ago, the team had touched down at Niigata Station on their way home from club activities. Kai had no idea how the conversation worked itself around to this topic—it probably came about as a result of Aya and Aina’s pointless chatter—but things had taken an unexpected turn.

“What?” asked Aya, sounding surprised. “Senpai, you’ve been in Aye-aye’s room? Alone?”

“...Huh?” was Kai’s reply.

“Yup, that’s right, ♪” Aina said in her usual sing-song voice before Kai could mount a defense.

“No,” he protested. “That wasn’t—”

“Oh,” said Aina, cutting him off again. “Now that I think back... This is from before he came to my room, but, see, my room’s on the second floor, and I heard my grandma come back home so I walked downstairs to see her... Suddenly, there was Kai-kun! I thought it was Grandma, so I showed up in a—well, let’s just say it was a scandalous outfit.”

“S-Scandalous?!” Nanaka repeated.

“...That was the first time a guy has ever seen me like that,” said Aina, pressing on with the awkward topic.

“Kai-kun?!” Nanaka shouted.

“Yes?!” Kai’s response was carried forward by nothing more than the momentum of Nanaka’s surprise, and he couldn’t find an opening to start explaining himself.

What he found truly, truly vexing was the fact that Aina hadn’t technically been lying: her room was on the second floor, Kai had been there when she came down, and her outfit had been scandalous enough to make his eyes swim around. All of those things were true. “Look, that’s, well... it’s t-true,” he was forced to admit. “But! I mean, I guess you could call it scandalous, but it was just Aina-san’s roomwear, so—”

“...Big talk for someone whose eyes were glued on me,” Aina butted in smugly. “I can tell, you know.”

Even in the face of Aina’s implicative words, Kai couldn’t say anything. He made eye contact with Nanaka, and it seemed like she figured everything out from his expression alone.

“Buuuuut...” Feeling quite satisfied with the chaos she’d concocted, Aina now sported a devilish grin steeped in mischievous delight. “...That works out for you, doesn’t it, Kai-kun?”

“‘Works out’...?” Kai echoed incredulously. “What... What do you mean by that?”

He didn’t have a single clue what Aina could be talking about. Truth be told, between things working out and not, he would have said this situation didn’t bear any resemblance to the former. If there was a superhero out there somewhere, now was the time for them to come and save him—that was how bad the panicked sirens in his head were blaring. He had cold sweat dripping down his back, despite the hot weather.

Whether Aina knew what he was going through or not, she nevertheless chose this moment in which to drop the biggest bomb yet. “I mean, you’re going to be my groom,” she asked slyly. “Aren’t you?”

“Wha...?” Air simply escaped Nanaka’s mouth in her confusion.

“Huh?” asked Aya, who was wholeheartedly enjoying this unexpected development.

“...” Eru remained silent, but quickly narrowed her eyes in distaste.

“...Aina-san? What are you...” Kai began to ask, his voice trailing off. He poured everything he had into his eyes and sent her an imploring message through his gaze: Please, calm down and stop saying unintelligible things.

What he got in return was a fun-loving smile that had (You’re stupid ♪) written all over it in parentheses.

Nope, he decided. This isn’t working. I give up.

“Kai-kun,” Aina said sweetly, “my grandma really took a liking to you. Gosh, do you know what I went through after you left?! She was all, ‘He’ll become a good man, so catch him now while you can,’ and even, ‘I’ll allow it, so go seal the deal with living proof of your love.’”

“L-Living... proof?” Nanaka stammered.

“Yup,” Aina answered Nanaka with a nod. Then, she turned to Kai with a grin. “...You want to?”

“I don’t!” Kai insisted, all while noting that Aina’s current fit of laughter was the liveliest he’d ever seen from her.

“Whaaa...?” Aina asked, feigning surprise. “Why? Why?” Stopping in front of the train station, she said, “Welp, I guess I’ll leave it at that for now,” which hinted at the hidden, ‘After all, teasing you is fun no matter when I do it,’ that lurked below her spoken words.

This was the usual spot where Aya and Aina would continue going straight, while the other three turned left toward home.

“Well,” Aina remarked, “it looks like... we’ve got parental approval, huh? See you tomorrow, Kai-kun. ♪” Then she waved goodbye, seemingly content to enjoy the outcome of her mischief as she disappeared from view.

◇

If there had been a scene transition there like a manga, movie, or anime, then Kai could have simply jumped forward a day—or three days, or even a week later—but reality was not so kind.

Aya had taken her leave alongside Aina, so the only ones left were Kai, Nanaka, and Eru, all of whom had been dunked into an awkward silence. Although, Eru had expressed how wonderful she was feeling, so perhaps she shouldn’t have been grouped in with the other two.

They’d all started walking again without saying a word, and had continued to walk without further conversation until the present moment. After a while, they arrived at the crosswalk that served as the second fork for the group’s route home. Nanaka and Eru would cross the street at this point, while Kai took a right turn.

Kai felt as though he ought to say something, but knew that anything he said would just sound like he was making excuses for himself. Aina’s devilish smirk came back to him. He wasn’t sure how far ahead she’d planned this, but it was apparent that she’d at least anticipated the current situation when detonating that final bomb.

I’m going to keep my mouth shut, he decided. He turned to say goodbye, when—

“Kai-kun!” Nanaka called out. “Um... Well, uh...” Then she hesitated for a moment, wondering whether or not she should speak up. At the end of her internal dialogue, she blushed faintly and said, “You remember how you came over when we were winning over Eru? M-My mom said... uh... she said, ‘What a cool and collected boy,’ when we were talking about you! A-And she even said I should invite you over again, so... I-I think... my parents approve of you, too!”

Despite all of her stuttering, Nanaka fit her entire speech in one breath, after which she exclaimed, “See you!” and made her way across the now-green crosswalk at the speed of sound. Eru took a moment to send Kai a disgusted glare, and then chased after Nanaka in a hurry.

Kai didn’t get a chance to say, “See you tomorrow.” He didn’t get a chance to say anything. Stunned, all he could do was watch Nanaka’s back as she ran away.

Beheld in Your Eyes

I am Kinoyama Shien; of dignity, I have none. Nay, let me amend my statement: I had none.

On that fateful day, I regained all of the dignity that had been stolen from me, tossed away and withheld at the moment of my birth. Nowadays, I have the great honor of participating in livestream events as a member of the venerable Kongouin Academy Social Game Club. Every time I do so, I am showered with warm comments, such as “Mushroom!” and “Ewww, gross.”

I’m sure the sagacious reader understands: there is no greater pleasure than the shudder-inducing bliss of having one’s presence acknowledged by others. I am Kinoyama Shien. Furthermore, I am a prideful mushroom. I am most certainly not crying! With the faint thought that I might wish to change my hairstyle locked away in the back of my mind, I puff my chest with pride again today.

Now, then, how was I able to regain my lost honor? That is the question. Of course, the answer is obvious. On that fateful day, my encounter with a young girl—Kongouin Mirei-sama—lit my world anew.

Allow me to shout out to the heavens: she alone is my ray of light who pierces through past, present, and future.

◇

The dignity of a man is evident in his food. Perhaps I was sharp-witted to have taken note of this concept as early as I can remember, but there was no room in my young heart to nurture any semblance of the self-esteem necessary to doing so. At the time, I was in the middle of learning (through the daily struggle of life itself) that I was a failure by birthright—a creature without anything to call his own.

The esteemed lineage of the Kongouin family can trace its noble blood as far back as the Heian Era. The Kinoyama clan—which I found myself born into—have been their arms and legs, and we give our very lives to serve as their retainers. Those born with the Kinoyama name commit themselves to a young lady or gentleman of the Kongoin house upon their master’s tenth birthday, and then serve until death. I beseech you to not call us goldfish dung. Or, at least, understand that even excrement has its own form of pride.

Due in part to the awesome power wielded by the great Kongouin family, the Kinoyama line was also among the upper echelon of society. The dining tables of our house were lined with only the best cuisine, made with the secret recipes of high-class hotels, and fit to serve even guests of the state. Of course, these meals were not meant only to be eaten; experiencing the flavor, smell, texture, and even the act of cooking these dishes, were all important elements in training to serve an inevitable master.

However, I have never once tasted them.

I often desired to stuff my cheeks to the brim with the wonderfully aromatic, golden french toast served at breakfast time. However, the most I could do was to mimic a statue in the corner of the room, watching over my three elder brothers as they graciously dined according to manners of the table. Gnawing at my hand to hold off my hunger, it felt as though a sea of drool pooled beneath my feet. But naturally, none at the table paid me any heed, because the role of my growling stomach and I was to watch over them. So we watched.

This world is divided into the haves and have-nots. To support one of the haves, one must truly comprehend what that means. For my brothers to experience the life of a have, there necessarily had to be a have-not, as well.

I am more than certain the sagacious reader already understands, but allow me to leave no room for doubt: the one cast for the role of have-not was myself.

◇

The children born to the Kinoyama family are granted names containing characters for gold, silver, and bronze. The first-born is gold, the second silver, and the third bronze. The names deriving from these three simple metals were in some way a proof of servitude to the Kongouin family.

However, this distinction was only given to the first three. A proper upbringing required time, effort, and money—all the more true when rearing a child worthy of serving the Kongouin family. Thus, the Kinoyama clan implemented an unshakable rule, which was to offer all the ancestral wisdom, knowledge, and wealth to the first three children born, with all who came after branded as failures at birth.

Kinoyama Shien: my name was composed of ‘four’ and ‘lead.’ As such, I was a castaway from the moment I was born. My only purpose was to show my chosen brothers what it looked like to be a have-not.

That being said, it was not as if I experienced any particular cruelty—I would like to assure the reader of that. Much like how classrooms have an invisible wall that separates castes based on appearance, the Kinoyama household had a visible wall that separated us by birth; that was all there was to it.

My brothers slept in fluffy beds, walked upon soft carpets, and surrounded themselves with antique furniture as they went about their warm lives. On the other hand, I spent my days in a hole-ridden cottage sleeping on a paper-thin futon, which I laid out on torn tatami mats, with my only decoration being a coffee table (which I suppose was antique in its own right).

And, as I mentioned previously, the greatest disparity in our dignities could be seen at mealtime. As my brothers smacked their lips to the finest dishes from every corner of the world to broaden their knowledge, I was first made to watch them. Eating was strictly prohibited. In turn, my brothers would look at me drip with drool as they were taught that there were some who did not have the privilege of eating.

Then, I would return to my own room to eat dehydrated rice (which was so stale I’m certain I could not recreate it even if I were to dry my own rice for one thousand years) and plain miso soup. Each grain of rice was harder than a BB pellet, but I was a virtuoso when it came to rehydrating it in the soup to the point of edibility. While this wasn’t exactly a skill coveted by others, it was mine to use as I pleased.

I may be repeating myself, but let me mention again that this was not a particularly awful style of life. My social ranking within the house was simply low, but everyone showed me great kindness as I fulfilled my role. In fact, the miso soup may not have had any toppings or extra ingredients, but it was a perfectly concocted chemical substance that covered all my nutritional needs. Though my life had no embellishments to it, I was not dissatisfied to begin with. At that time, I considered my everyday life to be normal.

There were also times when a flower would bloom amidst the dreariness—when my brothers would visit. Every now and again, my brothers would come along with a plate of leftover food. Then they would furrow their brows at my way of life, and turn to me with gentle, affectionate eyes, saying, “We appreciate your efforts,” as they left the food behind. I looked forward to these encounters more than anything else, and they were a great source of pride for me. I knew in these moments that, on their journey to faraway heights, it was my diligent work that allowed them to continue forward without forgetting the scenery below. That thought filled my small chest with beaming pride. I was proud; proud, I say.

If I wasn’t at least proud, then how was I meant to keep my heart from splitting in two?

◇

Be that as it may, all things come to pass.

Life changes in but an instant.

◇

“A mushroom ghost!” said an angel, suddenly descending upon my shabby cottage. She raised her voice while pointing at me.

She truly appeared to be a phantasm that resided in the heavens: her voluptuous blonde locks remained ever-beautiful, even when swayed by the breeze coming through the cracks in the wall, and I remember thinking that one smile from her adorable face could bring the whole world to tears. The light flooding out from the doorway behind her adorned the angel with a glowing halo, while her eyes shone with gallant chivalry. This was my first meeting with Kongouin Mirei-sama.

“My, what a charming room,” she announced. “I shall stay here for a moment.”

At that time, I didn’t know who she was. From her clothes and appearance, I had a feeling she was of high status, but the thought that she was the Mirei-sama hadn’t crossed my mind. Of course, it hadn’t. Why would a heavenly being such as herself be in a place like this?

The Ceremony of Eternal Servitude was a ritual that took place on the Kongouin heir’s tenth birthday, and was meant to move along without my presence—in essence, it was an opportunity for the heir to meet my elder brothers. From between gold, silver, and bronze, one would be chosen, and the other two would move to support him from that point on.

What with no worth at all, the boy of lead was deemed unfit to participate in the ceremony. They bid me seal the door to my shack like the mythical Cave of Heaven, and to remain inside the whole day. After all, they wanted to avoid any chance of my unsightly appearance burning into Kongouin eyes.

“What a boring ceremony,” the angel said scornfully. “Each and every one of them is like a potato—conversations with them were so tedious.”

Her soliloquy made me stop and realize, wait, could she be—?!

But she continued, “My! Mr. Ghost, look! How curious! Your friends are growing here!” She was pointing at the corner of the room, where a mushroom was sprouting out of the tatami.

“No,” I explained humbly, “that is not my friend—it is an ingredient.” As they say, the dose makes the poison. The unnamed fungus always caused abdominal pain later on, but it was delectable when added to my miso soup.

“You can eat this?! I suppose I should expect no less of a ghost—no, of a mushroom hermit!” said the girl, laughing in delight. “Hehe, this is the first thing I’ve found interesting since coming here. You, what is your name?”

“My name is Shien... Kinoyama Shien,” I told her, politely introducing myself. “I’m sorry to trouble you, but may I ask for your name, as well?”

“I am Kongouin Mirei,” she declared.

In contrast to her notable confidence, I was on the verge of succumbing to the grinding anxiety in my gut. This is bad, I thought to myself. Oh-so-very bad. This cannot be! I wondered what would happen should this situation come to light; it wouldn’t have been strange for me to be chased out of the house.

“‘Shien’... That means you must be brothers with the three potatoes I met earlier?” she inquired.

“If they had gold, silver, and bronze in their names, then those potatoes were indeed my elder brothers,” I was forced to agree.

“Indeed? Then, why is it that you were not present at the ceremony?” Mirei-sama asked.

“...I am not qualified to be present,” I mumbled.

“Qualified?” Without any warning, a flame sparked in the back of Mirei-sama’s eyes. Her gaze threatened to burn all that it beheld as she advanced toward me without pause. I had already grown to about 160 centimeters by this time, so when she stood before me, she glared at me from directly below. “Who decided that?!” she demanded. “Know this, I—”

With an abrupt stop, I noticed her eyes were peering into mine.

“Um...” As soon as I called out to her, she pounced on me as if she’d jumped off a spring board. I was knocked onto my back and nearly lost consciousness when I collided with the tatami, but then saw that she was riding on top of me and staring at me from above.

“What beautiful eyes,” she remarked, holding my head in place by the cheeks. She looked as though she were indulging in the splendor of some peerless jewel.

I had been unable to keep up with this rapid fire of unexpected developments, but her next words shocked me back into reality: “I’ve decided,” she announced. “Shien, I shall take you as my attendant.”

“...Th-That will not do,” I protested. “As I explained earlier, I do not have the qualifications to—”

“Silence, Shien,” Mirei-sama commanded. “I will not allow you to dim these gorgeous eyes,” she said, while slapping me in my face. “Unqualified, was it?” she mused next. “I am the one who decides. I am Kongouin Mirei. Know that deciding such things without my approval is the truest form of insolence! If you have no qualifications, then let me bestow them to you now.”

“B-But—”

“Shien,” she whispered with a smile, “I want you.”

Mirei-sama wants me? I thought. That was the first time I had ever heard those words in my life.

Mirei-sama rose to her feet and let go of me, though I was left dumbfounded. The familiar sensation of frayed tatami felt unusually soft, and the wind howled through the gaps as if to bid me farewell.

“Your eyes are beautiful, but they have been dimmed. Very well,” she declared. “I swear to restore their luster! This world is beautiful, and you shall see it all with me.” As she dragged me outside, the light that flooded my view was brighter than anything I’d ever seen before, and my vision began to blur.

I made two oaths as her servant that day: firstly, that I would stay by her side for all of time, and do everything within my power to protect the wonder that she displayed when speaking of the world’s beauty—so that her vivid beauty would never dull to a lead gray. And second, so as not to make her a liar, that I would never allow these eyes which she’d praised to lose their shine.

Of course, I never had any doubts that the latter would be true. It was a given. After all, the girl which these eyes behold shines more beautifully than all else in sight.