Loss 3: Dividing and Conquering, but It’s Long Division

Loss 3: Dividing and Conquering, but It’s Long Division

Loss 3:

Dividing and Conquering, but It’s Long Division

I WAS AT MACHIKANA LIBRARY AFTER SCHOOL, NOT far from the station. It was a fancy place where the second and third floors were all one open space. There were even cafés, and the stairs could be turned into makeshift seating for events. Honestly, it was almost too trendy for me, but it was a library first and foremost. One where energy and calm could somehow coexist. I liked it decently well.

I found a booth, took a seat, and opened a book. Yesterday rushed back to me. Our little incursion into Momozono Junior High.

We’d learned one important thing of note: Tachibana-kun did, in fact, exist. Which was already enough to grapple with without having also heard him and my sister act all coy together. Thankfully, I wasn’t the clingy type and so hadn’t evaporated on the spot, but I still hadn’t recovered fully from the shock of it all.

Kaju was a second-year. She had friends. Probably male ones. I mean, I never had any friends of the opposite sex when I was her age, but Kaju was different. She had friends. Tachibana-kun was probably one of them. And that was all there was to it.

With that settled, I shifted gears to this weekend’s open house and flipped through the reference I was using for my story. This wasn’t escapism, because I still hadn’t written anything for the journal, and escapism would imply I was trying to ignore reality. How could that be when the journal was very real?

When I went to make a note in my idea book, I peeked at my phone. I had a LINE message from Komari.

“You’re in a club, FYI.”

Silly Komari. This was for the club. Could she not see? I replied to her saying I was working on a draft at the library, then flipped my phone over. I had a short story to brainstorm. The hook was a mysterious and beautiful girl suddenly appearing before the protagonist, but who would the all-important heroine be?

“Sure wish ideas weren’t so hard to come up with.”

I shut my reference, stretched, and looked out the window. Through the blinds, I could make out the plaza down below and the high school uniforms scurrying around it. And all the couples…

It occurred to me then that my booth was for two. In front of and behind me, in the adjoining booths, were more couples.

As I pondered a theoretical fiscal policy wherein we might levy a tax on such hoarders of romance, a Tsuwabuki bag came down on my table. “Komari? What are you doing here?”

Komari Chika glanced left, then right. “Sc-scooch,” she whispered. I slid closer to the window, and she plopped down on the edge of the seat. “And I’m d-doing you a favor. D-did you forget the open house this Sunday?”

“What do you think I’m working on this draft for? I was trying to find inspiration for the heroine, but nothing’s coming to me.”

Komari grabbed the book I’d been using. “From a m-microbiology encyclopedia?”

“My gut tells me weirdos are in. Was hoping I could unlock the secrets.”

She skimmed a few pages, but quickly thumped it shut, shaking her head. “As i-if you can even decipher any of this. G-get real.”

Perhaps she had a point. Screw it. I could always just go with a cat-eared glasses maid. Couldn’t underestimate the value of self-indulgence in fiction.

“I assume the critic’s already finished her draft?”

“A c-continuation of the Mishima and Dazai isekai.”

Wasn’t that Tsukinoki-senpai’s? “She pass the torch or something?”

“I-I didn’t ask. Since M-Mishima’s the top.”

A canonical switch, huh? Bold.

It was getting harder and harder to get a hold of the third-years anyway. Tsukinoki-senpai had already applied to five colleges and gotten rejected by one. Tamaki-senpai was done with his Common Test and neck-deep in studying for the next phase of exams. Last I heard, he was cutting it close but feeling good.

“I’ll have my submission done by Sunday. Don’t worry.”

“Wh-when are we printing?”

I scratched my cheek awkwardly and looked away. “We can, uh, do yours and Yanami-san’s first. I’ll print mine on my own time. Then we can have visitors do the binding.”

“E-excuse me?”

I smirked. “Give ’em a taste of the club experience. Smart idea, eh?”

“O-or you could finish your st-stupid story on time.”

Always so mean to me.

“Why do you think I’m not in the club room right now? Tomorrow’s a holiday, but I’ll show up Friday, okay? Sheesh.” I dismissed her by making a show of returning to my notes, but she stayed. Twiddling her fingers. “What? Can I help you?”

“It’s, um, Yanami. She wants to do something besides the journal.”

That could only mean one thing. “I’m sure it’s nonsense. Pretend to hear her out, give her some gum or something, and she’ll forget she ever mentioned anything.” This strat was field tested. But Komari kept twiddling. “If gum doesn’t do it, offer fried rice instead, or—”

“O-open house is on Valentine’s Day, so sh-she wants to make chocolate.”

I’d almost forgotten that was this weekend. Kaju had taken up my entire brain, which was ironic considering Valentine’s chocolate was the source of all this.

“And what’s that got to do with open house?” I asked.

“Sh-she wants to hand them out to visitors. To…‘kill them with femininity.’”

That was an interesting idea coming from a girl in the lit club. Because literature clubs were overflowing with womanly charm. Yanami would sooner kill herself inhaling chocolate than any visitors.

“Actually, chocolate’s not a bad idea. Roll with that.”

What could go wrong with Komari around? I went back to work.

She sidled in closer, head hung low. “A-and I heard about your…stalking. Yakishio told me.”

I sighed and put my pen down. Word had spread. “Even if it was stalking—which it wasn’t—it was for justice.”

Her eyes darted left and right again. Then she lowered her voice and said, “D-do you wanna know more? About your s-sister’s crush.”

“Huh?”

Crush? Who said she had a crush? But after yesterday, I couldn’t deny the possibility, and now I had to face it head-on. I gulped. It echoed in my ears.

“Talk to me,” I said, lowering my voice to match hers.

Komari quietly set a book down on the table. How to Make Them Open Up . And…?

She thrust her chest out proudly. “I-I’ll use my conversational skills to g-get her to spill everything.”

Not likely, but I decided to let her dream. Because that was the mature thing to do.

I took the book and flipped through it. The author had apparently studied something psychology-adjacent in the U.S. and worked as a consultant for some foreign company. Most of her accomplishments went over my head, but she sounded qualified to me. And she looked hot in her headshot.

“Sure,” I said, “but how are you even gonna get in the same room together? You’ve never met.”

“W-well, um…” Komari put a hand to her chest and breathed. “Th-the chocolate we ate the other day w-was good. I w-wanted her to teach me the recipe.” Her expression softened as soon as the final word left her lips.

So that would be the cover. The true goal, meanwhile, would be to fish for info. Only problem: The fisher was Komari.

“For the record, she’s, er, pretty intense.” That was putting it lightly. “Think you can handle that?”

Komari heeded not my warning. She puffed up again. “I-I have experience with little sisters.”

But with a little sister as experienced as this one? I had my doubts. But hey, she was offering. “Where do you wanna do it at?”

“I-I was…hoping your…your house would…” Komari’s fingers transcended twiddling and went to twirling. She never finished her sentence.

She wanted to use our house, I assumed. Convenient, since my parents would be out for the holiday to go see a movie together. “Sure. My mom and dad’ll be gone, so how’s tomorrow sound?”

Was that perfect or what?

Komari nearly jumped straight up in the air and squawked. “N-no…parents?!”

Last I checked, that is what a mom and dad were. What was her problem?

“If getting that recipe’s your cover, we’ve got a kitchen that’s all yours, and there won’t be any distractions. Pretty much ideal for you and my sister.”

“Y-your sister? Right. Sh-she’ll be there.”

“Isn’t that the whole point?”

“D-die.”

Why?

Honestly, her timing couldn’t have been better. I hadn’t said more than a few words to my sister since yesterday. I figured she’d have a few more to say after the whole eavesdropping thing got busted, but she was the same old Kaju. Now I was the one making things awkward, and the longer I put off addressing it, the harder it became to move on.

“I’d really appreciate you having a chat with her,” I said. “I’ll make sure we’ve got all the ingredients you’ll need. You just bring yourself.”

“M-myself?! D-do you have a-any idea how that sounds?!”

I did not. “Relax, will you? I’ve got a draft to work on. You gonna do something or keep freaking out?” I handed her a book.

“I-I’ll read!” She snatched it and threw it open. Those brain games would come in handy tomorrow.

A few moments later, and she was absorbed. That was a good sign for…wait, that was the encyclopedia.

“Sorry, Komari, didn’t mean to—”

Komari didn’t so much as glance at the how-to book. She was muttering something under her breath. “B-Bosminidae… Volvox… C-Campylobacter…”

She chuckled to herself. At least she was having fun. I left her to it and picked up my pen again.

Literature Club Activity Report, Bonus Issue: Komari Chika—The Tainted Sorrow of Another World

There are those in this world who don’t belong. Irregularities with powers known as “skills” that defy all known laws of reality and magic. They are those who died and were reincarnated. And now they wander endlessly.

It was a dark night at the Zavit Royal Academy for Magic. The cold wind ruffled the eastern man’s robes as he strolled along a deserted path behind the school building. He rummaged around his breast for a small bottle, then popped the lid.

Dazai shrugged. “Meningitis couldn’t keep you down, could it?”

A moment later, a figure revealed itself from the shadows behind him. A small man with a felt hat and a black cloak. “Clearly you were no more worth Death’s time than I was. You still look like a mackerel who forgot it couldn’t fly.” The man called Chuuya scoffed at Dazai’s unamused expression. He approached. “Believe me, you’re the last person I want to see, but the geriatrics with the Guild are asking for you.”

Dazai’s face hardened. “I’ll have to disappoint them. Send them my apologies.”

Chuuya extended his hand anyway. Dazai swatted it away, a purely reflexive action, and the next instant the man was gone.

But what shook Dazai wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just Chuuya that was gone. The building he should have been standing next to had vanished as well. They weren’t on campus anymore but in a forest reserve that was at least an hour away by foot.

“What’s the meaning of this, Chuuya?”

“Good drink you’ve got here.” Chuuya took a long swig from a bottle. “Finally trying a leash on for size?”

“That’s mine!” But how had he gotten it? It had been in Dazai’s hand only moments ago.

“You should reconsider. Come with me, and the Guild’ll open your eyes like it opened mine. It isn’t like our old world. The people there understand and appreciate my poetry.”

“I was never particularly lacking in—”

Chuuya reached for Dazai’s hand again, but before they could touch, a flash of light blinded them. The bottle split in two. Its amber contents shimmered in the moonlight.

“My booze!” the men harmonized.

Suddenly, a third man stood before them. A man in a military uniform. His sword was drawn. “Get away from him, Dazai-san.”

“Mishima-kun! You don’t have to tell me twice. I was just considering how I might do that myself.”

Mishima adjusted his blade so that he would next strike with the dull edge.

Chuuya cast ungracious eyes at him. “You must be his guard dog. Have any bite to back up that bark?”

Mishima swung, sending a blade of light at his opponent—a technique he’d learned during his time as an adventurer. It only grazed Chuuya.

“Go on! Get him!” Dazai cheered. “Bruise him up a little. It’s only the dull edge!”

“I assure you, that’s the goal, Dazai-san. So why…?”

Chuuya huffed, insulted. “Is that supposed to be your skill? Enlighten me. I’m confused.”

“Conviction. So long as the wielder of my power never falters, so too will my blade. There is nothing I cannot cut, should I believe it to be so.” Mishima took aim, holding his blade out toward the man’s eyes. With the sharp edge.

“That’s a shame.” Chuuya sneered. “Because my skill, Inebriant, means nothing can touch me. No matter what you believe.”

The military man struck again and again to no avail. Mishima was in a waking nightmare. Chuuya casually passed him by while he was stunned.

“Wait!” Dazai pleaded. “We can talk about this. How’s about we all parley a moment?”

“Parley? Let’s parley. You come with me, and I’ll forget Mishima’s little stunt here. How’s that for parley?”

Dazai turned and bolted. Sneering, Chuuya gave chase.

“Not so fast!” Mishima lunged at him bare-handed, his sword cast aside, but a dizziness beset him as he came close.

That was when Dazai came. Instead of continuing his escape, he’d about-faced and tackled Mishima back. They tumbled together in a tangled ball.

“Dazai-san?! What are you—” Before he could finish, Mishima saw it. The bottomless pit he would have thrown himself down if Dazai had not stopped him. “What in the world…?”

Dazai offered his hand and stood him up.

Chuuya pinched the brim of his felt hat and spat. “A second later, and you’d have gone over like a carny on a broken trapeze.”

“I see your trick,” Dazai muttered calmly.

“Why don’t you tell me what you think you see.”

“Your skill—Inebriant—it’s not as simple as you make it sound. Things don’t just skirt around you. You’re altering everything from our perceptions to reality itself. The trigger? I’d wager it’s anytime someone moves to attack you.”

Chuuya fell silent. Then he clicked his tongue in irritation. “What tipped you off?”

“Why, my cowardice. I happen to come with a little more liquid confidence than I think I’ll need.” Dazai produced a second bottle of alcohol from his breast. “See, Inebriant only seems to work on those not already inebriated. How very considerate of us lonely drunks.” He retrieved Mishima’s sword and returned it to his grasp. “Feel free to do more than bruise. You have my permission.”

“But how?” he questioned. “His skill will trigger.”

“That’s the beauty of it. You know it will. You have Conviction. Skills aren’t like magic. They don’t abide by natural laws, so when two skills butt heads, the mind decides the victor.” Dazai took a swig. “Believe that you’ll win, and you will, my friend. Oh, but remember to turn your blade up. Nothing sours booze like the sight of entrails.”

Chuuya growled, keeping his eyes glued to the sword. “Clever. But not clever enough. I know you have the Liar skill. A nobody like you would never know those mechanisms.”

“The great Kawabata kept them under strict lock and key, yes. It took quite some coaxing, and a change of bedsheets, to squeeze it out of him.”

He opened his mouth to continue, but Mishima stepped forward. “I’ll handle it from here, Dazai-san.” His blade faced down.

Chuuya’s glare faltered, and his shoulders slumped. “You’ve made your point. This pup can bite.” Dusting off his cloak, he turned his back to them. “You win this round.”

Mishima made to follow, but Dazai stopped him. “Leave it. Who knows what tricks he might have up his sleeves.”

Mishima stared into the darkness Chuuya had vanished into and sheathed his sword. “An acquaintance of yours, I take it?”

“Chuuya? In another life. Now, let’s away. I’m sobering up.” Dazai started off, ruffling his hair. “You’ll join me for drinks, won’t you?” But the next second, he was against a tree, Mishima gripping his collar. “Something on your mind?”

“You told me nothing happened with Kawabata-san.”

“You think I meant what I said? I was bluffing, Mishima-kun. Whoa, there. Do you have cotton in your ears?”

Mishima wrapped his big, burly arms around Dazai’s waist. “You filled them yourself. You’re a two-faced man, Dazai-san. I’m forced to grasp for the truth with my own hands.”

“Do you have any idea where we are right now?”

“Alone. As utterly, completely alone as we were in bed last night.” Dazai’s exposed chest glistened in the moonlight. Mishima took him by the chin and forced his eyes to meet him. “You’ve made this one yourself. Now lie in it.”

***

The next day, Thursday, was National Foundation Day. So no school. Kaju, the one variable in our plan, happened to be free, so Komari would be over to learn that chocolate recipe this afternoon. I was on my way home from buying ingredients.

I turned my eyes down from the blue sky to the white powder sprinkled on the ground. I’d almost forgotten what day it technically was.

Oni Matsuri was a local Toyohashi festival spanning all the way back to the Heian period, and was even officially recognized by the government as an Important Intangible Folk Cultural Property. The onis always came to our neighborhood, so Kaju and I would go out to see them when we were kids.

I noted a few people walking around now with that tell-tale white powder. Which sounded weird at first, but it was all in the spirit of the festival to let a few costumed actors toss a couple of handfuls at you. Sometimes you got candy for your trouble. There was even an app these days that let you track where they were, for optimal oni routing.

A cute shriek cut through the air. Some girl getting powdered, no doubt. I would’ve liked to join in if there weren’t more pressing matters to tend to.

I adjusted my grip on the bag of groceries and got a move on. Komari would be there soon.

***

When I got home, I only saw Kaju’s shoes at the front door. I’d beat Komari.

“I’m home.”

A brief moment of silence. Not long later, the living room door opened, and Kaju flew out. “Welcome back, Oniisama!” She scurried over and relieved me of the groceries. “Your friend will be here soon. Let’s make sure we’re ready to welcome her!”

“R-right.”

Same old Kaju. There were times when I thought things were tense lately, but I suspected it was all in my head.

Watching her scamper off out of the corner of my eye, I slid my shoes off. Then the doorbell rang.

Komari. Annoying timing.

I immediately slid my shoes back on and opened the door. There she was. Not a hair out of place. Except for the powder covering her from head to toe.

“What happened to you?!”

“I-I tried to get a closer look at the onis and g-got swallowed by the crowd.” She coughed, surrounding herself in a powdery cloud. It was honestly impressive that someone could manage to get this dirty.

Someone yelped behind me. “Komari-san?! Oniisama, run a bath, now!”

“Oh, uh, on it.” Kaju was right. She probably didn’t appreciate me standing around staring. I hurried to the bathroom.

“You get ready to hop in,” I heard Kaju tell Komari. “I’ll find you a change of clothes.”

“B-but the powder.”

“Don’t you worry about that. Now go! Hurry!”

With warm water filling the bath, Kaju eventually came barreling into the changing room where she shoved a powder-coated coat at me. “Oniisama, take this. Let’s get the rest off you, Komari-san.”

“W-w-wait! Nukumizu’s still…!”

“Oniisama. If you would.”

Right. Yeah. I did. The door shut behind me.

The whirlwind of chaos died down. I stood there in the hallway, a little dumbstruck, powder-coated coat in my arms. Probably needed to deal with that.

“Hey, Kaju,” I called through the door. “Can you vacuum powder?”

I heard fabric flop onto the ground.

“Oniisama, why are you still standing there?!”

“Uh, just wondering what I should do about her coat. If she’s got any other clothes, we should probably clean them togeth—”

“D-die!”

And that was Komari. Telling me to die in front of my own sister.

I sighed and headed for the front door. Figured I could just dust the stuff off outside.

***

Thirty minutes went by. Kaju pattered down the stairs and to the changing room, carrying a bundle of stuff in her arms.

“Komari-san, I’m leaving some clothes here for you. Feel free to use them.”

I stopped wiping the floor.

Komari was in the bath right now.

It hadn’t really hit me earlier, but now… Now I was acutely aware of the reality of my situation. A girl I knew was in my bathtub. And it felt weird. Very weird. I wasn’t ready for this. I had to cool my head down, fast, so I went to the kitchen to make some coffee. Felt like grinding the beans. Just to get my hands moving. For no particular reason.

As I turned the crank, Komari’s coat hanging on the wall caught my eye. I’d given it a good beating outside, vacuumed it, and then ran a brush over it just to be sure all the powder was gone. It was pretty much spotless now. Kaju would be impressed.

I stopped cranking. This was why everyone thought I had a sister complex. But it was at least partly her fault for being so good at making treats. Pavlov would have been proud.

Only when I finished grinding and went to brew did it finally hit me that I didn’t actually want any coffee. Just wanted to play with beans. And now I was feeling weird again. Did we have any more? Might as well grind the lot.

The living room door opened while I dug around the pantry. Kaju came skipping in, twirled around, and beckoned to someone out of view. “Come on, Komari-san! Don’t be shy!”

“I-in these clothes? Y-yeah, right…”

She’d borrowed some of Kaju’s, I figured. Sure, maybe it was a little embarrassing to wear a junior high schooler’s clothes, but at her size, pretty much everything was for junior high schoolers.

But then she shuffled in, and I had to do a double take.

Komari wore a black, knee-length dress very reminiscent of gothic lolita fashion. Her knee-high socks were patterned, and on her head was a lacey hairband. Even that was unrecognizable. Her hair was actually kempt, instead of, well, the opposite, and held back by a fancy pin. One side of her bangs had been tied into a small braid.

“Is…that all you had for her?” I asked Kaju.

“I’d never dress a guest in old hand-me-downs. These were the only unworn articles I had. My hands were tied.” She tugged me until I stood squarely in front of Komari. “Thoughts, Oniisama?”

Thoughts? On the clothes? Komari’s clothes?

Her skin was flushed from the bath. She couldn’t look me in the eye. Just kept her head down and fidgeted. She reached up to play with her bangs but grasped nothing, which only made her complexion redder, so she clutched her skirt instead.

Was this Komari?

“Sh-she’s, uh…cute—” Komari squawked. Her face went the reddest yet. “I mean she looks nice! Good! She looks good in those!”

Not much of a rephrasing.

“I-I look…n-ni—” Komari froze solid. #MeToo part two, here we come.

“You look wonderful!” Kaju cheered. “You know, if you really wanted, I bet you could get Oniisama…” She got too quiet to hear after that and whispered something in Komari’s ear.

Whatever it was, it made her squeak and collapse on the spot. Did I need to call a lawyer?

“Hey, er, you okay?” I offered her my hand.

She looked up at me, tears clinging to the corners of her eyes. “Sc-screw you…”

Oh? That was a different flavor of abuse to the usual.

That it reawakened the weird feeling deep in my gut was something I would take with me to my grave.

***

So began Kaju’s cooking class. Finally.

Kaju removed the thermometer from the liquid chocolate, checked the display, and nodded. “Forty-five exactly. Next, we want to cool it down in ice water. Make sure to scrape the bottom when you stir.”

Komari replied with a noise that sounded more like a whimper than words, then did as she said.

Kaju admired her handiwork as she stirred. “You’re good at this, Komari-san. Do you bake a lot?”

“N-not… Just…c-cookie…and cake…”

She was gonna blow a fuse at this rate. I stopped cleaning dishes for a second. “She says mostly cookies and cake, but not really chocolate. Right?”

She nodded furiously.

“Oh, okay,” Kaju said. “We should bake a cake together next time!”

More nods.

How could I have forgotten? Komari was bad with strangers. How was she going to get anyone to “open up” if she could hardly pry her own lips apart? I went back to my dishes and watched on.

“Temperature control is vital when tempering. Just be aware of your cooking environment and the amount you’re working with and I’m sure you’ll get it down in no time. That looks about cold enough to me, so next we’ll heat it up again. This time to thirty degrees.”

Komari bobbed her head, her spirit already broken.

“Lay out some baking paper on that tray there, would you? We’ll let half of them harden and turn the rest into truffles.”

Komari tossed me a sidelong glance. What she expected me to gleam from it, I did not know. Her eyes darted to the tray, then back to me. Implying…?

“Uh, about the tray,” I said.

“What about it?”

I glanced at Komari. Slight nod. On the right track. “Won’t filling that thing with chocolate just turn it all into one big bar? What do you do then?”

“We cut it into pieces then do the coating. That’s when we’ll add a little more flavor and decoration. You’ll need lots if you plan on handing them out, won’t you?”

Komari looked relieved. Glad I could help, but what I couldn’t help was wondering if it might not have been more efficient for her to ask her own questions.

And that was how I ended up practically taking the lesson myself. On Komari duty.

“Is it okay for the cream to get this hot?” I asked.

“We want it near boiling. Then it gets mixed in with the chocolate, we let it cool, and that’s it.”

“Truffles are that easy, huh?”

Komari eventually found her groove, once our kitchen stopped feeling so foreign to her. I still couldn’t get over her outfit, though. The lolita style was never really my thing, but coupled with the frilly apron… It made her look like a maid.

How was that for a pre-pubescent daydream? A girl takes a bath in your house, comes out in a short skirt, knee-high socks, and an apron, then starts cooking for you.

But it wasn’t a daydream. It was reality.

Komari returned my stare two-fold. “Wh-what are you looking at?”

“Just wondering if I’ve ever seen your forehead before.”