Chapter 4 / The Modern La Mancha

People love to philosophize about how art imitates life, but as of two minutes ago I share Oscar Wilde's position that the opposite is true: Life imitates art far more than art imitates life. Case in point?

The fictional Spanish nobleman, Don Quixote, read too many chivalric romances and thus failed to see reality, instead imagining that he was a legendary knight. Art.

The hapless Japanese teenager, Zaimokuza, reads too many light novels and thus fails to see reality, instead imagining that he is an overpowered shounen protagonist. Life.

Tell me you aren't convinced.

"So let me get this straight, Zaimokuza."

"Mhm."

"You met this girl online…"

"On a Chiba Prefecture cosplay forum, yeah."

"…and proceeded to approach her out of the blue…"

At this, Zaimokuza crosses his arms in protest. "Actually, she was the one who DM'd me first."

"Pardon?"

"DM? Direct messaging. You should really try it sometime, man, it's pretty sweet. I mean, you should have seen it for yourself, I slid riiiiight inside-"

"Alright, so she was the one who approached you out of the blue through a direct message," I quickly concede, eager to be spared the mental image of Zaimokuza sliding inside anything.

"Yup."

"…you two, uh, proceeded to 'hit it off'…"

"I know right? I'm having a hard time believing it myself, but we really clicked! She likes all the manga that I'm into, every pop idol, been to every convention– everything! Heck, she even uses the same limited edition Macross Delta mousepad-"

"…and consequently, due to the discovery of these unique shared interests, you believe that the two of you should become romantically involved with each other, effective immediately."

Although I am more than satisfied by this summary of events, Mr. Quixote apparently is not.

"You forgot to mention the part where I propose to her with an original composition: 'My heart was set on you / The minute I first gazed into those cerulean orbs / And felt their sweet waters erode these iron shackles of solitude.' "

Yukinoshita, however impenetrable her composure, noticeably grimaces. Even Yuigahama shifts uncomfortably in her seat. Terrible poetry is apparently a universal weakness.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, shut my eyes, and begin to massage. Hard.

"Okay, so you also aim to get married and have children. Yes?" The very word – married – coming from my own lips is enough to churn my stomach in new and uncomfortable ways. "Happily married" has become practically synonymous with "happily ever after" - three words that forever sum up the fates of one-dimensional fairy tale protagonists. No wonder children's fiction often ends in marriage, with a pair of newlyweds gazing at each other with excessive wanderlust on the balcony of some ivory castle: "And then they married each other and lived happily ever after. The End."

Where I come from, "And then they eloped after two dates and proceeded to face the crushing shitstorm of marital problems that ensued" is a more probable ending for the blindly idealistic.

Speaking of blindly idealistic…

"Six children." Zaimokuza states this number with a certain solemnity that reveals just how hard he has thought about his hypothetical offspring. "All girls, and all stunningly kawaii, just like their mother. But what you said sounds about right. Good plan, eh, Hachiman? Sometimes I manage to surprise even myself with the ingenuity of my battle tactics-"

"I have arrived at a conclusion."

"Really?" His face brightens with what can only be hope. "You've figured out how to bring my wildest dreams to fruition?"

"You're stupid."

"Wh-what?!"

"Yuigahama, tell him that he's stupid." I turn back to my novel and begin to read. From the corner of my eye, I can tell that Yukinoshita is lowkey approving of my word choice despite her best efforts to hide it.

"Hikki!"

"Fine. Tell him that regardless of how his intelligence is perceived, we won't be taking this case."

Yukinoshita gives a huff of indignance at the definitive nature of my statement. "Since when did you get the final say in whether or not the Service Club accepts a case?"

"That's right, Yukinon! You tell him! I-I don't really understand what Zaimokuza has been saying that well, but he seems to be really passionate and honest about this whole thing…"

She stops for a moment to muster determination in her voice, balling her fists slightly before continuing.

"So… we should definitely help him out!"

I raise an eyebrow.

"Uh-huh. Zaimokuza. What's her name?"

"Ah, you mock me! What an easy thing to procure, kind sir." The bespectacled boy puffs out his chest proudly and reaches into the folds of his trench coat. His hand emerges with a haphazardly-bound leather notebook, on which he scribbles something with a pen before tearing out the page and handing it to me with a triumphant gesture.

"Her real name," I say flatly.

"B-But you didn't even look!"

"The fact that you had to write it down is enough to tell me that this is her online username."

From the expression of pure shock on his face, I can tell that I've got Zaimokuza cornered. He laughs boomingly with a fit of nervous energy, pushing up his glasses and throwing his mop of white hair back to add more theatrical flair. "Hachiman, I have clearly underestimated you! Your deductive prowess has exceeded all expectations! I had pegged you for a mere Watson, but you are clearly more clever than your looks would suggest! You are a shrewd logician indeed, why, a Holmes among Holmes-"

"Her real name, if you would," I deadpan while giving him my best faux-Yukinoshita death glare. It pales in comparison to the real deal sitting a few chair-widths across from me, but for the present purpose it will have to suffice. Zaimokuza's discomfort visibly grows until he reaches his breaking point.

"Fine! You got me! The truth is that I, uh, I mean - we - haven't exactly gotten that far yet," he bashfully admits.

Just as I am about to press my attack further and claim a flawless victory over this cross-examination, a certain coral-haired defense attorney swoops in to save her flustered client.

"Just because he doesn't know her real name yet doesn't mean that a real romance can't form between them," she argues. "Besides, the Service Club hasn't gotten many requests in a while. Shouldn't we be carrying out our club's mission to help out people as much as possible, instead of just sitting around all day sipping tea and making small talk?" Zaimokuza, spurred by the sudden arrival of his sugar-and-spice savior, begins nodding triumphantly after Yuigahama's every word.

Even the Judge herself seems ready to be convinced. "Yuigahama does make a fair point. We have indeed been lounging about with little to do lately, far removed from this club's original directive - indulging in petty verbal flings whereas individuals in need of assistance go largely ignored..."

Hey. I'll have you know that I put a lot of effort into our petty verbal flings.

"...Furthermore, despite this particular client's rather... distinct situation, we have helped him in the past without much in the way of interference - there is a successful precedent, at least, which is more than most new cases can claim to possess..." Yukinoshita continues to muse about the merits of agreeing to Zaimokuza's request, her high horse rearing its head once again.

I hold down the urge to point and shout "OBJECTION!" loud enough for the word to materialize above me in bombastic red font. Victory in the courtroom always comes at a price - in this case, the price being the need to invoke another one of my 108 skills: Deliberately Hijacking the Logical Train of Thought!

"Alright then, Your Honor. You decide. I'm sure facilitating a completely spontaneous online romance should be right up your alley."

I can almost see the words "spontaneous," "online," and "romance" churning single-file through the delicate clockwork of Yukinoshita's brain, setting off their respective red flags at each turn. Only a few moments have passed before we are graced with our fearless leader's wise and calculated response.

"We won't be taking the case."

Too easy.

Yuigahama is clearly shocked by the flagrant betrayal. "Hold on a minute, why?!"

"You heard the club president," I shrug, nodding towards her and making sure to place extra emphasis on both "club" and "president." "No can do. Sadly, it looks like the only option we have is to bail on this one."

"But Hachiman, please!" Zaimokuza blurts out before Yuigahama can even retort. "I don't know anyone else who can give me advice - you, you must know something about how this works, right?"

It's no surprise to me by now, but this man's train of thought is almost impossible to comprehend, let alone hijack. My Hikigaya skill is useless here. Why is he so adamant that I can help him at all? In this situation, shouldn't you ask more popular people with some romantic clout for this kind of info? Or is he truly just that desperate?

"I don't quite follow."

"Well… isn't it kinda obvious?" He looks at me meekly, and I stare blankly at him in return.

"It's not."

Zaimokuza sighs. "You've been in this club for so long, and the only other members are two girls..."

It suddenly dawns on me where he's going with this, and a numbing shiver arcs down my neck and across my arms. I barely even notice that the book has slipped from my hands, much less a pair of cold eyes tracing its path as it falls.

"...hasn't, something, y'know-"

He abruptly stops short. Under the table, my right foot has instinctively found its way onto his shoe, grinding into it with as much strength as it can summon. It's no use. I watch helplessly as the question takes root in my mind, cracking open the Pandora's Box that I've been avoiding until now.

"Hasn't something happened between you three already?"

Part of me wants desperately to say that yes, something has happened between us - happened, in fact, right here in this very room. It wants to describe the way Yuigahama stumbled through her confession and how my words left her in tears, the veiled glances she now sends me that have become impossible to entirely ignore. It wants to confirm if those brief moments with Yukinoshita suggest something entirely beyond a mere friendship sustained by insults and banter. Above anything, it wants to cry earnestly, embarrassingly, even disgustingly - the way I did standing here that day, wanting something genuine, wanting just the truth.

But it can't. It sits sullenly within me now - deaf, mute. Rooted in place and unwilling to budge. My pulse quickens, my breath becomes short, my ears suddenly burn with heat. By the nature of human biology I'm either very in love or very afraid, and at this point I'm honestly not sure which is true or whether there's even a discernible difference between the two.

So I flip an invisible coin inside my gut, sending butterflies careening throughout my stomach. It spins for what seems like an eternity before finally landing face down on "afraid," and I do what most sane people do in response to fear.

I run.

"We'll help you." It comes out too fast, too hoarse - nothing at all like the authoritative statement I intended it to be. Across from me, Yuigahama wears her plastic smile, and Yukinoshita crosses her legs stiffly.

A furtive nod serves as his silent reply. Even sheer naivete cannot stop Zaimokuza from realizing that he has inadvertently sliced open an old wound. I try coughing into the folds of my sleeve, but nothing comes out.

Then Yuigahama claps her hands and springs out of her seat.

"O-kay, great! It's two against one then. We'll get to work right away! Let's see… we should divvy up some different tasks between us…" She spins towards Yukinoshita and, half-thinking to herself and half-suggesting, begins gushing out a warbled ensemble of ideas regarding Zaimokuza and the way towards his supposed romance. Yukinoshita, a little overwhelmed, simply nods. Her harsh stare flickers away from my direction as she slowly becomes lost in the bubbling exuberance before her.

Something - no, someone - taps my shoulder while the girls are occupied. Zaimokuza gives me a look that seems to ask, "Hachiman bro, what was up with that?" Using an elaborate system of head shaking and scrunched up eyebrows, I trade him back with something that hopefully translates to, "Now isn't a good time, I'll tell you about it later." Fortunately for me, Zaimokuza seems satisfied with my message.

Unfortunately for him, I already know that it's an empty promise.

"Earth to Hikigaya - no, more like Pluto to Hikigaya - did you get anything at all from what we just discussed?"

It takes a brief moment for me to register the fact that Yukinoshita has finished her conversation with Yuigahama and has returned to lob verbal grenades in my general direction.

"Hey, I'll have you know that Pluto is a very respectable planet of origin - uh, even if it technically isn't a planet anymore-"

"Enough of that." She dismisses my retort with a sullen indifference, as if all the wordplay and jabs we exchanged just minutes ago are suddenly beneath her.

"Here is what we have decided: Yuigahama will be in charge of improving Zaimokuza's physical appearance. This will include selecting a fashionable wardrobe on his behalf and providing him with extensive talks on proper self care and personal hygiene."

The former defense attorney-turned romantic consultant seems absolutely enthused by the first half of her responsibilities; apparently the alluring challenge of turning Mr. Trench Coat Shut-In into the next Eligible Bachelor is enough to drown out her unease regarding the entire latter portion of Yukinoshita's sentence. She spins around and gives Zaimokuza her trademark grin. "You'll be hearing from me soon!"

"As for me, I will be in charge of elevating Zaimokuza's public etiquette and speech mannerisms to a more appropriate social standard-" Yukinoshita pauses for a moment to regard the hopeless romantic with a dry glare before continuing: "-so that he fully understands and appreciates how to behave around a lady."

My eyebrows furrow. "I'm sorry, this is great, but what exactly is it all for?" Across the table, Zaimokuza appears to be equally as dumbfounded.

Yuigahama beams. "For the d-a-t-e, of course!"

"Which will be your responsibility to facilitate," Yukinoshita casually adds.

At this, our client almost falls off his chair. I blink a few times, hoping to snap out of whatever cruel hallucination this has become.

"A date, of all things? How is that even supposed to work? It's an online relationship, if it's a relationship at all - hell, Zaimokuza doesn't even know her real name-"

"You were the one who ultimately agreed that we would help him with his request, despite my objection. Is that correct?" Yukinoshita flicks her eyes towards me, then looks away. Her expression somewhat sags, making her seem tired, almost indifferent - as if all this is suddenly just another exam she is expected to ace, as if I have become no more than a stain on her handkerchief that will be scrubbed out in due time.

"...Yeah," I finally reply after a long pause.

"Then it is quite apparent that setting up a physical date is the only way for the Service Club to properly assist Zaimokuza. We are useless to him if his interactions with this love interest are confined online." She states this matter-of-factly, her face devoid of all emotion except something simmering beneath the distance she has woven between us. "Besides, if he is in fact serious about this whole affair - and I will interpret your willingness to help as a personal testament to Zaimokuza's sincerity - he will be forced to come face-to-face with her eventually."

I'm about to question how I could possibly help guarantee Zaimokuza a date with some Internet gal pal, but Yukinoshita waves me off and continues, leaving no survivors in the wake of her cold logic. "Your task is elementary in nature. Zaimokuza will supply you with his account credentials for the online service he is using to contact this girl. There is a strong chance that she is a Chiba resident given that Zaimokuza met her while frequenting a forum catering to individuals in our locale. You will pose as him for a few days, building a strong rapport with her until she agrees to a romantically intentioned date. Quite doeable, even for someone like you."

The tone of her voice seems to suggest that wooing a complete stranger is fundamentally no different than buying groceries, a task to be completed by scribbling down bullet points and checking items off a list.

"Why me?" I ask weakly.

"Because you are the only one among us whom Zaimokuza might allow to peer into his personal life. And frankly, I am inclined to believe that you are more familiar with Zaimokuza's particular... flavor of lexicon than you care to admit."

Both of these things, unfortunately, are true.

"As for the date itself, I'm thinking the charming little café near the train station will do?" She throws a sidelong glance at her starry eyed partner in crime.

"H-huh? Oh yeah, that sounds great, Yukinon," Yuigahama hastily agrees, toying absentmindedly with her bangs.

"The café, then, if possible. You have some freedom over the particulars of the exact arrangement, obviously." A shrug. "Once the date is set, Yuigahama and I will take care of the rest. We will convene again when ready. Any objections? Particularly, any from you, Hikigaya Hachiman?"

And for the third time today, the room becomes palpably silent.

"Good," Yukinoshita mutters quietly. She stands, swinging her bag over her shoulder in one clean motion, before pausing to turn towards the window. Her knifelike eyes follow suit. They cut outside, shifting their focus from the sky to the ground, cleaving twin arcs through clouds and trees and whatever else is unlucky enough to be caught in their path. Then, after only an instant, they spin towards me. I flinch, half-waiting to be sliced into ribbons, but Yukinoshita's gaze has softened - no, dulled. The color from her irises wash over me, a mix of blues and greys rolling with their own ebb and flow, stripping my heart of everything except something reminiscent of melancholy.

Then the tide retreats, and she's gone before I can say a word.

"Ah - Yukinon! Wait up!" Yuigahama calls out as she scrambles to grab her belongings. She starts towards the door, halting after each step to fumble with the strap of her schoolbag.

Seeing this as his cue, Zaimokuza also rises and begins lumbering out. "Well, well, Hachiman. This has, uh, certaintly been quite a turn of events," he intones while looking at me over his shoulder, pushing up his glasses with a pudgy index finger. It's a little hard to see, but I'm almost certain that his teeth are chattering nervously. "We shall be in touch about this... this... d-d-d-d-a-t-e...!" The bumbling otaku audibly gulps before dashing out into the hallway after Yuigahama, leaving me sitting alone at an empty table in an even emptier classroom.

At once everything feels very cold and very blue, sapped entirely of warmth. My book is still crumpled on the floor where I dropped it, its pages folded and askew. I don't bother picking it up. Instead I drag my feet over to the window and slump my head just beyond the frame.

Outside, the track team runs. I watch them silently with a burgeoning lump in my throat, picturing myself among them. Panting. Gasping. Sprinting endlessly, wordlessly. Chasing my own shadow until I break, or until someone who knows my time tells me to stop. I imagine Yukinoshita here in my place, staring down at this everyday slice of infinity, until the tide surges back and my eyes sting from what might be seafoam.