The air around the tables was thick with the scents of charcoal fire, frying oil, lemon, and alcohol. Throughout the izakaya echoed the sounds of workers stopping by after their shifts—glasses and beer mugs clinking together amid lively chatter and bursts of laughter.
In one corner of the establishment sat a group of more than a dozen young men and women. Though they were somewhat lively, considering that they were in an izakaya, they were actually a rather well-behaved bunch.
“I never thought I’d see the day Hatano would come to a drinking party with us!”
One of the young men in the group, who had rather ordinary facial features and dyed brown hair, laughed as he pointed at one of the women. Judging by the flush on his face, he’d already had quite a bit to drink.
Hatano—the woman he had singled out—furrowed her brows in annoyance and shot back curtly, “You talking about me?”
She, too, seemed to be feeling the effects of the alcohol, a faint blush tinting her cheeks.
Hatano was twenty-one years old. Her hair fell slightly past her shoulders, and she had a taste for chic fashion. Frilly, cute outfits weren’t really her style, but she always made sure to maintain a neat and well-kept appearance.
“Yeah, I’m talking about you! I don’t know if you think you’re too good for us or what, but you never come to drinking parties like these. So what gives? What made you decide to grace us with your presence tonight?”
If all he wanted was an answer to his question, he could have asked more politely. Instead, his words were razor-sharp, showing no regard for the other person’s feelings. It wasn’t really Hatano’s place to judge others, but that was what she disliked most about him. Among the crew of misfits that made up their university’s literature club, he was undoubtedly the person she disliked the second most.
“I just don’t get why a literature club needs to go out drinking every week.”
“There it is! That holier-than-thou attitude of yours. Why don’t you save it for when you’ve actually made it big, huh? Miss Wannabe Writer?”
The young man let out a carefree laugh as he downed his drink, while those around him responded with forced smiles or tried to rein him in. Hatano, the target of his remarks, was all too familiar with this routine. She had never let his words get to her, and as a result, no one had ever felt the need to reprimand him too harshly. However, today was different.
“Cut it out, Iizuka. I’m the one who invited her today. We just submitted our entries for a novel contest that was due three days ago, so I asked her to come out and celebrate all the hard work we’ve put in.”
Iizuka—the young man who had been making the remarks—was cut off by a handsome young man sitting near the center of the group. He was so good-looking that even if someone spent the entire day combing the area around Shibuya Station, they’d struggle to find anyone who could compare. In fact, quite a few girls had joined the literature club just because of him.
“Well, if you’re the one who invited her, Shijima, then I guess that’s that,” Iizuka muttered, unable to bring himself to argue with the man who had put a stop to him.
It was a sad fact of life that even in a small club of barely a dozen members, a hierarchy still existed. Needless to say, Shijima reigned unrivaled at the top, and within this circle, his word was law.
“Sorry, Hatano. I invited you here because I was hoping we could talk a bit more about our submissions…”
“It’s fine. I’ll just make sure not to come next time.”
Hatano replied with a hint of irritation in her voice, while Shijima could only offer her an apologetic smile.
“Whaat? I thought you’d already made your professional debut, Shijima-san. Aren’t those newcomer contests usually, like, only open to amateur writers?”
A petite girl with refined features and an outfit that exposed her shoulders addressed Shijima in a sweet voice, as though trying to draw his attention. Her name was Shinomiya, and she was a beauty who rivaled Shijima in terms of attractiveness.
Or rather, “cute” described her better than “beautiful.”
She wore her chestnut-colored hair long, falling past her shoulders, and her beautiful dark brown eyes always seemed to look up at others from beneath long lashes. With her cheeks faintly flushed, she turned that same puppy-dog gaze on Shijima as she spoke to him.
As if sensing that this was her chance, she made a deliberate effort to engage him in conversation, drawing irritated glances from several of the other girls nearby.
Shijima was a prodigious novelist. After winning a newcomer award hosted by a leading publisher in the mystery genre at a young age, he had risen to prominence while still a student. His outstanding prose and intricately crafted plots had even earned him the Japan Booksellers’ Award1. Hatano envied him, but she respected him greatly as well.
“Oh, there are some contests out there that only accept submissions from amateurs. But every publisher has its own editorial direction, and sometimes their authors move elsewhere for one reason or another, like maybe because their books stop selling. That’s why most contests accept submissions from professionals as well. As for me, I like to submit to places where I can write the kind of stories I want to write.”
“Wow! You’re so ambitious, Shijima-san! I really admire that about you.”
Even the usually stoic Shijima couldn’t help but soften his expression at Shinomiya’s sweet voice, the voice of a girl whose beauty stood out even among the other women at the gathering.
The surrounding girls watched Shinomiya’s bold advances with irritation, while Iizuka and a few of the other guys waited for an opportunity to strike up a conversation with her.
Watching the scene unfold from a short distance away, Hatano let out a sigh.
The university’s literature club seemed to be divided into three distinct groups.
The first consisted of people like Hatano and Shijima—those who genuinely enjoyed literature, whether through reading or writing novels.
The second was made up of girls like Shinomiya, who had joined with their sights set on Shijima.
And finally, the third group consisted of guys like Iizuka, who had joined in the hopes of pursuing those very same girls.
When she categorized the club’s members in her mind, Hatano couldn’t help but let out a sharp laugh. But it was a dry, hollow one, born from the irritation she felt toward the literature club itself.
She had remained in the club hoping that she might learn a thing or two about creative writing from Shijima, but in reality, it had ended up being little more than a place for college students to hang out and party.
It wasn’t that she had absolutely no interest in romance. However, she found it frustrating when it got in the way of something she wanted to take seriously—even if she had yet to achieve anything with her writing.
“I think I may have had too much to drink…”
Shinomiya said, looking up at Shijima with her puppy-dog gaze, her face flushed. Anyone could tell what she was doing—probably even Shijima himself. And yet, irritatingly enough, she possessed such a seductive charm that even those who saw through her found themselves willing to overlook it, thinking, ‘Well, I suppose it’s fine.’
She was a dangerous woman.
And as a side note, within this literature club that was gradually becoming little more than a hollow shell of its former self, Shinomiya was the one person Hatano disliked even more than Iizuka.
It didn’t matter to Hatano whether or not Shinomiya chose to throw herself at handsome men. What really bothered her was that, despite possessing such extraordinary beauty, Shinomiya seemed content to do nothing more than use it to charm men in an insignificant little college club like this.
What she was feeling was probably something akin to resentment. Hatano had lived her life as an utterly ordinary person, relying on hard work and receiving only modest rewards for her efforts. To someone like her, people like Shinomiya—who chose not to make use of the gifts she had been born with—were unbearably enviable and deeply frustrating.
That was why, even though Shinomiya probably wasn’t a bad person, Hatano couldn’t bring herself to like her.
In fact, those were exactly the kinds of people Hatano hated most in the world.
The lemon sour she’d just gulped down tasted a little bitter.
About an hour later, around 10:00 PM, the drinking party finally came to an end.
Everyone headed their separate ways, preparing to sleep and face another day tomorrow. It should have been an ordinary, uneventful night—a quiet conclusion to yet another day.
Then, a bombshell was dropped.
It came in the form of a single remark from Shinomiya.
“I’m sorry, I think I may have had a little too much to drink… Could someone please walk me home?”
Shinomiya asked, gazing up at Shijima with glistening eyes, her face flushed as she leaned in close to him. The other members of the club—or more specifically, the women—made no effort to hide their anger and disgust, their expressions akin to those of someone who had just discovered a cockroach in their home.
In contrast, a few of the more oblivious men listened intently, feigning indifference while clearly waiting for an opportunity to step in and be the one to escort her home.
Shijima, the target of her advances, simply clapped his hands together apologetically.
“Sorry. I actually have plans to hang out with some friends from back home after this…”
In response to Shijima’s apology, Shinomiya’s brows twitched ever so slightly, and a subtle frown crossed her face before it was quickly replaced by a smile.
“I see. What a shame…” she said, her shoulders slumping as she turned her abandoned-kitten look on the other men.
“I-If you’re okay with it, I can walk you home!”
“You know, I was thinking of taking a taxi home anyway, so you could come with me!”
“She’s not a kid, you know. I’m sure she can get home by herself just fine. Right, Shinomiya-san?”
It was a truly dreadful sight. The men buzzed with excitement while the women looked thoroughly displeased, as one side openly vied for Shinomiya’s attention while the other worked to counter them.
‘I can’t bear to watch this anymore,’ Hatano thought as she turned away from the spectacle and started walking toward the station. But Shijima—like a ray of sunshine in this cesspool—stepped in to calm the situation.
“W-Well, look! She really does seem to have had a little too much to drink, and it’d be dangerous to let a young woman make her way home by herself at this hour. So could I leave this to you, Hatano?”
Being put on the spot so suddenly and having the responsibility thrust onto her felt like taking a blow to the side of the head.
Hatano instinctively stopped in her tracks and turned around, locking eyes with Shinomiya, who looked just as bewildered as she felt. The two of them had always considered each other fundamentally incompatible—people from completely different worlds with entirely opposing mindsets. Yet, at this very moment, they seemed to be in complete agreement about one thing.
“Why me?“
Hatano practically spat the words out as she pressed a hand to her forehead, but Shijima merely pressed his palms together apologetically.
“You understand where I’m coming from, right? There’s no one else here better suited for this than you.”
Anyone could tell that he was a good person. At the very least, while trying to respect Shinomiya’s wish to have someone escort her home, he was also mindful of what might happen if he let one of the other guys take her instead. After all, she really was drunk, and if someone forced themselves on her against her will, it would become an incredibly serious matter.
It was a given that none of the other women would lift a finger to help her, which inevitably meant Hatano had to be the one to step up. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being conveniently manipulated into this, but for all her complaints, she was still human. The thought of Shinomiya getting caught up in something unpleasant didn’t sit well with her.
“T-That would just be a bother for Hatano, wouldn’t it? I’ll go with her instead!”
The person trying to insert himself without reading the room was none other than the plain-looking Iizuka. He shot Hatano a look that seemed like he wanted her to agree. But the conspicuous bulge in his pants, his bloodshot eyes, and the expression on his face that made no attempt to conceal his desires were enough to make Hatano uneasy. And when she considered that refusing would hand him the perfect excuse to take Shinomiya home himself, saying no became difficult.
“Uhh… umm…” Shinomiya stammered, searching for a way to refuse being escorted home by Hatano. But she really did seem to be drunk. Her speech was slurred, and her mind wasn’t working properly.
‘It’s not like I’m any less drunk myself,‘ Hatano thought. ‘Must be nice to still have the luxury to be so picky.’
“Fine, fine. I’ll take her home. Come on, let’s just hurry up and call it a night already.”
At the very least, Hatano knew she’d have trouble sleeping if she tossed Little Red Riding Hood into a pack of hungry wolves.
Reluctantly agreeing to the task earned her a variety of reactions from those around her. Among them, Shijima—who looked the most genuinely relieved of the bunch—pressed his hands together apologetically and said, “Sorry. I’ll help proofread your work or something next time.”
Hatano let out a sigh, feeling just a little better about having agreed to it.
After parting ways in a manner that seemed to leave lingering bad blood, Hatano started walking toward the station, holding Shinomiya by the arm. Both of them looked thoroughly displeased. There were no winners in this situation.
After parting with the group on somewhat awkward terms, Hatano started walking toward the station, holding Shinomiya by the arm. Both of them looked thoroughly displeased. There were no winners in this situation.
“This is the worst. Why did I have to end up with you of all people, Hatano-senpai?”
“If you’re going to say things like that, at least wait until I’m not around to hear it. I’m the one walking you home right now, you know.”
“But if I say it behind your back, wouldn’t that just be bad-mouthing you?”
“Well, saying it to my face just makes it an insult.”
Shinomiya, her face flushed red and making no effort to hide her true colors, grumbled her complaints openly. Her steps were genuinely unsteady, and for the first time since meeting her several months ago, Hatano realized that Shinomiya wasn’t the sort of person cunning enough to pretend to be drunk just to get a man to walk her home.
“I wish Shijima-san was the one taking me home… or at least, a guy.“
Pouting, Shinomiya began muttering complaint after complaint. Seeing this side of her, Hatano became convinced that the sweet, calculating persona Shinomiya usually wore had all been an act. Letting out a sigh, she resigned herself to listening to her grumbling.
“With looks like yours, you could have any guy you wanted, couldn’t you?”
“… It’s not that I particularly like men, you know.”
“Huh?”
Hatano furrowed her brows in confusion as Shinomiya, her cheeks still flushed, let out a carefree giggle.
“When someone says, ‘I’ll walk this cute, drunk girl home,’ doesn’t that mean they’re acknowledging that I’m cute? And when men do that, other women get jealous of me.”
“Well, thanks to that, things turned into hell back there.”
“Jealousy is just another form of admiration. It means they’re acknowledging me and my worth.”
Heh, Shinomiya puffed with a hint of pride.
Regardless of why she cared so much about things like that, there was a some logic to what she was saying. The desire to get close to someone, the jealousy directed toward a person who was doted on by men—ultimately, both were ways of recognizing that person’s appeal and qualities.
“That’s why I hate you, senpai. You don’t like me, but you don’t seem to hate me either. That’s what I dislike the most, and why you’re probably the person I hate most in the world.”
“Oh, really? That’s great, because you’re also the person I hate most in the world.”
Figuring there was no point in taking the words of a drunk too seriously, Hatano fired back with a lighthearted jab.
“Hey! Now you’re insulting me!”
Tuning out the childish complaints that sounded as though they were coming from an elementary schooler, Hatano resisted the urge to let go of the arm she was holding. But if Shinomiya were to stumble over the guardrail and fall, it would probably haunt her dreams. Irritated as she was, Hatano continued dragging Shinomiya along toward the station.
“So, which station do you get off at?”
“Tachikawa.”
“Huh?!”
Pulling out her phone to check the time, Hatano muttered with a click of her tongue, “That’s in the exact opposite direction.”
From here, she’d have to go all the way to Tachikawa, then retrace her steps back home afterward. Unfortunately, this was the countryside. There was no way she’d make the last train.
“Well, the last train’s about to leave soon, so I guess you’ll just have to find your own way home from there.”
“What?! That’s so heartless! In a situation like this, you should at least send me home in a taxi or something!”
Her speech was slurred, and her words were growing increasingly incoherent. Between her unsteady steps and heavy-lidded eyes, it was one thing if Shinomiya simply slept through her stop, but if something were to happen to her on the walk home from the station, that would be an entirely different matter.
Sending her home in a taxi wasn’t exactly something Hatano could afford, but abandoning her altogether didn’t sit right with her either.
“You need to learn how to drink in moderation,” Hatano said, lecturing her with a hint of irritation in her voice.
“Well, guys always make sure to see me home safely. I know a lot of them are just after my body, but I don’t really mind that,” Shinomiya replied with a giggle. Yet no matter how carefree her expression was, there was nothing amusing about her words. It wasn’t simply that she seemed sexually promiscuous; there was something unsettling about the way she appeared to derive her sense of worth solely from being desired by others.
Hatano scratched her head before letting out a heavy sigh.
“… You’re staying over at my place tonight.”
“Whaat!? Your place?! I feel like I’ll catch some kind of weird disease if I do!”
Even after Hatano bent over backwards to accommodate her, Shinomiya still looked unhappy. Hatano had the sudden urge to tear out that chestnut-colored hair of hers, but after a long, deep sigh, Shinomiya simply shrugged.
“… Well, I guess I don’t have much choice. I’ll stay over.”
By the time they made it back home, it was nearly past midnight.
When they reached Hatano’s apartment—a cheap studio where she lived alone while juggling part-time work—Shinomiya was already drifting in and out of consciousness. Half-carrying her inside, Hatano hauled her into the cramped room where the bed, sofa, and table were all crammed together.
Shinomiya, lost in a drunken haze, murmured, “Good work.”
Hatano glared back at her with ragged breaths and murderous intent in her eyes.
Honestly, should I just kill her?
Still, going through all this trouble only to commit murder now would make everything she’d done pointless. Fighting back the urge, Hatano tossed Shinomiya’s slender frame onto her bed. Shinomiya let out a cute little yelp before burying her bright red face in the pristine white pillow.
Without another word, she settled into a sleeping position.
Whether Shinomiya was even listening anymore was anyone’s guess, but deciding she should at least say what needed to be said before turning in herself, Hatano addressed the girl whose eyes were already shut.
“I have class tomorrow, so make sure you’re up before I leave.”
“Mm.”
“Also, I’m billing you for the dry cleaning later. I don’t want to sleep with the same bedding you used.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“And finally, I’m sleeping on the sofa tonight, so you’d better be grateful.”
“Aahya…”
Shinomiya’s responses were starting to sound less and less like human language, but Hatano was too exhausted to muster up any irritation. Watching as Shinomiya’s breathing settled into the steady rhythm of sleep, Hatano decided it was time for her to turn in as well.
Thinking that having Shinomiya catch a cold from the autumn chill would only create more trouble, Hatano tossed a comforter over her before grabbing a nearby blanket for herself and collapsing onto the sofa. With a press of the remote, she switched off the lights.
The first thing she noticed was someone else’s breathing.
The sound of breathing, out of sync with the rise and fall of her own lungs, filled her with a sense of unease. Then, the scent of an unfamiliar shampoo drifted into her nose. Finally, the sunlight filtering through the gap in the curtains announced the arrival of morning, and Hatano at last opened her eyes.
And the moment Shinomiya’s sleeping face came into view, every trace of drowsiness vanished at once.
“… Huh?”
For several seconds, Hatano’s brain refused to process what she was seeing. Unable to form a coherent thought, all she could do was voice her confusion aloud. Then, little by little, she vaguely recalled bringing Shinomiya home with her the night before. Even as a hangover-induced headache throbbed behind her eyes, she accepted the fact that the two of them must have ended up sleeping in the same bed.
She was just about to accept that explanation when she stopped herself.
‘Wait, but didn’t I fall asleep on the sofa?‘
With that thought in mind, Hatano cautiously tried to sit up, only to shiver at the sudden chill against her skin. It was then that she realized she wasn’t wearing anything at all.
Cold sweat trickled down the back of her neck. Her first instinct was to escape reality altogether and go make herself a cup of coffee. But she knew she needed to confirm the facts. Hesitantly, Hatano peered beneath the comforter covering Shinomiya.
Shinomiya was naked too.
The moment she realized it, Hatano’s heart began pounding wildly.
‘Oh, this is bad…‘
“So wait, which one of us…?” she muttered to no one in particular, her voice trembling. Yet considering that she was supposed to have been asleep on the sofa and had somehow ended up in the bed, it seemed painfully obvious who had been the one to crawl in beside the other.
Her sense of reason screamed at her to destroy the evidence immediately.
First, she needed to get Shinomiya dressed. Then, get herself dressed. As Hatano frantically tried to figure out what to do after that, she heard a muffled “Mm…” from Shinomiya.
Burying her face deeper into the pillow, Shinomiya gripped the sheets with her delicate hands and pulled the comforter back over herself. But a few seconds later, as though suddenly realizing something, she slowly opened her eyes.
Her unfocused gaze landed on Hatano’s sweat-drenched, naked figure.
For several long seconds, she froze.
Then, as if re-enacting Hatano’s earlier reaction, Shinomiya’s eyes flew open in an instant. As though trying to confirm something, she moved one hand beneath the comforter, her fingers brushing against her lower abdomen.
Realizing that she, too, was naked, Shinomiya looked at Hatano in bewilderment.
Then, softly, she voiced her confusion.
“… Huh?”
- The Japan Booksellers’ Award (本屋大賞 – honya taishou – literally translated as the “Bookstore Award”) is an annual Japanese literary award based on votes by bookstore clerks across Japan. ↩︎
Thank you to an anonymous reader for commissioning me for the first chapter of this series!
ShuuKura will continue taking priority, so there is a good chance I won’t be continuing with this series unless I continue getting commissions for it. For anyone interested, this series is completed at 19 chapters in the main story + 2 epilogue chapters. You can contact me about commissions on my Ko-Fi page.
I went with a different writing style this time around, opting for English quotation marks (“”) rather than the Japanese ones「」. I felt that it suited the writing better, what with it being written mostly third-person, making it easier to connect sentences together. I also got rid of the obnoxiously deep indents compared to ShuuKura (which I wanted to get rid of there too, but felt like I was in too deep to start changing things up).
Ave Lilium Translations 