Chapter 5 / Efficiency
The Self-Transcendence 3100 Mile Race is the world's longest footrace, created by an Indian guru who aimed to combine both spirituality and athleticism in the same way some enterprising barbarians mix Coke and Pepsi at a soda fountain. His idea was that while you slowly flogged your body to death throughout 52 grueling days of footwork, you would feel joy amidst the screams of pain as you slowly surpassed your physical limits - hence the idea of "self-transcendence." But it's a flawed concept. Continuously meeting nigh-impossible goals is the surefire way to unlocking an inflated ego, not nirvana.
So to top this, I raise you the Hikigaya Hachiman 1.37 Mile Walk Home From Sobu High School: a leisurely route through the streets of Chiba that provides plenty of time for reaching pseudo-enlightenment while leaving you increasingly depressed the closer you get to your destination.
It's a win-win combination that simply can't be beat.
My stomach growls, but I vow to suppress my hunger as I plod forward on the sidewalk. Man does not live on lunch alone... but on breakfast and dinner, too. And in my rush to arrive on time to school today, I've managed to skip the former.
Damn. Try as it might, that one lonely bento just isn't up to the task.
Time to weigh my options. Grab a bite before I go home? That seems like a solid idea until I flip open my wallet and find it to be immensely empty - just shy of sprouting a singularity and collapsing into a miniature black hole. Scratch that. I sigh, shoot a wistful glance at the Saizeriya around the corner, and trek on.
Hmmm... Scavenge for food and build a campfire? Nope, this isn't an RPG. Attain inner peace and subsist solely on the energy of the universe? Would be cool, except my stomach is really looking forward to digesting hamburgers, not cosmic radiation. Feign homelessness and beg for handouts? I'm supremely ashamed that this is even an option.
As it stands, I can continue my current lethargic pace and hope that I don't starve to death before I reach the kitchen fridge. Or, I can run the remaining distance home, thus enabling me to quell my hunger sooner. It's not a bad idea. After all, this is the kind of physical exercise that doesn't clash with my principles. Food and fear are always valid reasons to run.
Running for any other purpose is just a product of human arrogance.
The cardinal rule governing all nature is that of efficiency. If you properly manage your food, water, and physical energy, you survive to see another day. If you don't, chances are you die pretty fast. Ants sort themselves into hierarchies in order to efficiently distribute and secure these resources. Bears hibernate through the winter in order to conserve their strength and eat less. A food chain exists because predators instinctively know what's efficient and what's not. You'll never see a lion chasing down a rabbit, because the lion isn't stupid. It knows that the energy it expends to catch something so small and agile is better spent on catching something larger, like an antelope.
Meanwhile, humans happen to be comfortably situated at the top of the natural world, looking down patronizingly at the animal kingdom below. And what better way for us to flex our superiority over these primitive creatures than to run? Not to hunt down prey. Not to flee from something big and scary. But for sport. For fun. For "self transcendence."
Animals must think we are the biggest idiots alive. "What are you running from, apex predator?"
"What are YOU running from?"
My own train of thought catches me by surprise.
Truthfully, I'm not sure.
All I know is that I don't want to look behind me to find out.
It could be nothing. Maybe I'd just be another fool, fleeing from the wind.
Maybe I'd become a pillar of salt, like Lot's wife as she turned to watch Sodom burn.
Or maybe I'd end up like Orpheus, glimpsing a fleeting ghost of what could have been.
It occurs to me that my hunger has been replaced by a heavy onset of fatigue. Is this what Yukinoshita felt? Is this what was written in her gaze?
Why is she on my mind all of a sudden?
I shake these thoughts onto the sidewalk, letting the pavement scuff against my shoes as I haul myself home.
Whatever the case is, I've done enough running for today.
Komachi is already sprawled out on the couch for an afternoon power nap by the time I trudge into the living room. She's still dressed in her school uniform, and her mouth hangs open just enough to let a thin line of drool streak down her rosy cheeks.
I poke her. Partly because I'm a dutiful brother looking out for his precious imouto, and partly in the interest of science.
"Ngh... Go away... we're... exceedingly middle class... nothing for you to... steal," she moans, planting her face deep into a couch cushion.
"If you're lucid enough to throw shade on our financial status, then you're probably awake."
"Hah?" Komachi drowsily blinks her eyes. "Oh, it's just you, Onii-chan." A catlike smirk pokes through her groggy expression. "Though with a face like that, you do always look like you're up to no good."
"Looks are overrated," I snort. "And if you're lucid enough to throw shade on me, you're definitely awake. Get up, sleepyhead." No response. Fine then. You leave me no choice, dear sister!
Using all of the few skill points I have invested into Strength during Physical Education class, I manage to pry Komachi off the couch and plop her upright onto a nearby chair. The lower half of my body protests furiously under the strain.
Either I've skipped leg day one too many times or this girl has seriously never skipped a meal.
"Jeez, what have you been eating?"
"How rude of you to ask!" She exclaims, jabbing me in the stomach. Ouch. "But if you insist on knowing, at lunchtime I had the most delectable pork cutlet bowls..."
Did I hear that right? "Bowls? As in, multiple?"
"...but the cafeteria was also offering their tonkotsu ramen special for half price, and it was just oh-so-hard to pass on that deal..."
"You're drooling," I point out helpfully while sitting down at an adjacent seat.
Komachi mutters in a trance-like state, probably still fantasizing about calories. "Whaa?"
"Here, let me get that for you."
"Oh, thanks." She rubs her eyes and frowns with adorable skepticism as I wipe her face clean of spit. "You're being uncharacteristically helpful, Onii-chan. Did something good happen at school today?"
"No, the opposite," I reply glumly.
Komachi suddenly gasps. "Ah! Could it be that you finally worked up the nerve to ask out Yukino-chan and was instantly rejected?! How tragic! In that case you just have to remember that it's the courage and initiative that counts-"
"Don't be silly."
"Hmph..." She pouts. "So nothing good happened at school, yet onii-chan is suddenly so nice..." Another accusatory cry comes out as she cups her hands to her face. "Are you an alien? Where are you from and what have you done with my deadbeat brother?!"
"Pluto, apparently. And I beg your pardon, but your totally cool brother is right here."
My sister continues to eye me suspiciously. "Care to share your stance on dating?"
"Don't. And if you absolutely have to, date something that's super low-maintenance and will let you laze around in peace while simultaneously providing a degree of emotional support, like a cat or a parrot. After all, marriage laws are becoming increasingly progressive in this decade."
"Dogs?"
"Dogs can be cute companions but ultimately demand too much attention, which defeats the purpose of dating something other than a girl. But their personalities change depending on breed, so it could potentially work. Still, not the best choice."
"So you ARE my real brother after all," Komachi sighs, evidently convinced. "Darn. And here I was thinking about how exciting it would be to shake things up a bit..."
Okay. That kind of hurts. "You mean you'd rather choose an alien over me? Like, one of those Xenomorphs that would bite your head off?" My voice carries just the slightest hint of incredulity.
"Nah, I was thinking more along the lines of E.T..."
You heard it here first, folks. The great Hikigaya Hachiman has been usurped in the Onii-chan leaderboard rankings by a little space goblin who isn't even named Yoda. Come to think of it, I wouldn't be mad if Yoda was my replacement. I can really get behind the ascetic philosophy of the Jedi Order, not to mention their outright renunciation of romance and marriage.
Jedi were truly visionaries ahead of their time. Komachi would be in good hands.
"...but I guess for the time being I can continue to make do with you, big bro!"
"Oi," I protest. "Make do? From the way you put it, I sound like a knock-off infomercial product."
"Really? If that were so, it would go a little more like this: And now, for a limited time buy-one-get-one-free offer, we present to you the latest model of... Apathetic Onii-chan!" Her voice impression switches from that of an announcer to what I can only assume to be that of a layabout loner, A.K.A me. "People are the worst and society should die. When I grow up, I want to laze around and do as little as possible," she growls, allowing her eyes to flatten into slants.
That makeshift scowl on her face when she mocks me is simply too adorable.
"Bravo. An Oscar-worthy performance," I applaud, clapping a bit for good measure. Komachi hops off her seat and does a quick little curtsy.
"Thank you for your patronage! But to be fair though, big bro, you do have your good points, you know... huh... points... points - wait." She abruptly turns to glare at me. "Could it be that you were being nice to me solely to earn Hachiman Points?"
"No...?"
The glare morphs into an accusatory squint, and my defenses crumble under the weight of sheer cuteness.
"It might have been for the points," I reluctantly admit.
"Ha! I knew it!"
Are all women naturally clairvoyant, or just the ones conveniently in close proximity to me? This is outrageous. It's unfair!
Still...
"...Out of curiosity, how many points did I get?"
At this Komachi crosses her arms and plasters on a sly grin. "Ooooooh! Onii-chan, you actually have the audacity to ask me about points after you so shamefully tried to schmooze them for yourself?"
I counter. "You shamefully schmooze Komachi points from me all the time."
"Very well. I hereby award you... one point," she solemnly declares after mulling over my complaint. How generous of her.
"Heh. I'll take it, since one Hachiman point is worth many times a single Komachi point."
My sister's head tilts to the side in confusion. This is the perfect opportunity to school her unsuspecting self on the invisible forces of economics!
"Given that you do nice things far more frequently than I, you earn Komachi points at a faster rate. On the other hand, I earn only a meager amount of Hikigaya points here and there," I explain. "Therefore it stands to reason that my points have a higher value than yours in the Hikigaya Household Points Market, thanks to their rarity."
"Hmmm... That's not true." Her answer is unexpectedly blunt, throwing me off my guard. If she has already seen through this one, then she's either more knowledgeable than I anticipated or a flat-out psychic. I'm praying it isn't the latter.
The idea of a telekinetic imouto sending me ricocheting off the walls for amusement is terrifying.
"W-what don't you understand? It's simple logic-"
These words halt midair as Komachi interjects, her hands wound tightly together behind her back, her voice suddenly soft.
"Onii-chan, I think you might be earning far more points every day than you care to realize." She turns to give me the biggest, most mischievous wink anyone could ever muster. "Now, I bet that scored me lots of Komachi points!"
And while I'm still stunned, my little sister bounds away into her room.
...That little brat. Always acting like she knows everything about me.
I can't help but smile.
Even if she's wrong.
Then my cell phone rings. Caller ID: Zaimokuza. Pick up?
The grin evaporates.
It almost pains me to hit the green "answer" button.
"Hello-"
"Hachiman."
The voice on the other end is solemn and grave, as if it belonged to a particularly morose funeral director.
"Y-Yes?"
"This is your humble comrade-in-arms, Zaimokuza."
"I'm well aware."
"The information I am about to supply you is of vital importance." He clears his throat. "To put it bluntly, this will be a treacherous mission, the likes of which has never been seen before. You will be plunged deep behind enemy lines-"
"I don't want to be plunged deep into anything. Just hurry up and give me the website and your login information," I interrupt, trying my best to conceal my exasperation.
"Ack! So direct..."
"...Sorry. But it would really help if you cut the theatrics. For now." For good is what I actually want to say, but I feel like Yukinoshita has already heaped enough verbal abuse upon him for one day. In that sense, maybe he isn't so off the mark in calling us comrades. What are men but brothers banded together in combat, weathering the insults and brutal vocabulary of a common bitch?
A long and muffled sigh is all that emerges from the other end.
"Zaimokuza? Are you okay?"
"...Zkuzazero."
"I beg your pardon?"
"My username," he groans. " 'Zkuzazero.' The password is 'gundam' and then the word 'seed,' except both of the e's in 'seed' are replaced by number threes. Oh, and the 'g' is uppercase."
I blink a few times before grabbing a nearby napkin and writing down this information.
"You got that, Hachiman?"
"...Uh, yes."
"The website URL is 'forums dot chibacon dot com,' okay? And I'm on good terms with one of the mods, so please don't say something weird that could jeopardize my pristine reputation."
I earnestly doubt that I could do worse than you in that regard, Zaimokuza.
"Alright."
His voice begins to shake. "My... very life is now entrusted to you, Hachiman-dono. I have faith that your wisdom... and... finesse with women will help secure this important victory..." Grandiose speeches aside, our client doesn't sound very convinced. The "finesse with women" bit almost comes across as veiled sarcasm, but only until I remember that Zaimokuza is physically incapable of sarcasm.
For once, at least, it's the objectively correct reaction.
"Don't worry," I offer while attempting to emulate even an ounce of Yuigahama's happy-go-lucky attitude. "I'll do my best to get you that date."
"Thanks, pal. You know, maybe with you leading the charge, this might not be that bad of an idea after all, huh?" A nervous chuckle reverberates through the line. "Let me know, uh, if you, y'know, n-n-need anything else!" Before I can utter a last minute objection, he hangs up. The phone goes silent with a demure click.
I look down. My handwriting on the napkin meets my stare expectantly. WELL? WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?
"You've got it wrong; this is assuredly still a terrible plan that I'm an unwilling accessory to."
RESISTANCE IS FUTILE, the serviette asserts.
"Shut up."
The napkin disappears inside a clenched fist, and I begrudgingly walk over to my laptop.
USERNAME: Zkuzazero
PASSWORD: G********d
AUTHENTICATING~
HMM, ARE YOU A NAUGHTY ROBOT-SAN? OwO PLEASE TYPE THE WORDS THAT YOU SEE IN THE PICTURE PROVIDED. YOU BETTER NOT BE A ROBOT~ OwO
...
OKAY GOOD, SEEMS LIKE YOU'RE NOT A ROBOT TEEHEE! JUST CHECKING, NOTHING TO SEE HERE~ OwO
...
WELCOME TO CHIBACON FORUMS! OwO PLEASE ENJOY YOUR STAY~ OwO
I've only made it past the login screen and chills are already traveling down my spine. Maybe Zaimokuza wasn't exaggerating after all.
This will be difficult. Not to mention stupid. And difficult. But I've whined enough. If I have no choice but to submit to Yukinoshita's grotesque idea of becoming an e-harmony matchmaker, then I shall do so with a vengeance. Such is the approach that aligns with nature's law of efficiency. As even the mightiest lion must respect the burden of hunger and thus hunt for food, so I too must acknowledge the distasteful yoke dumped upon my very reluctant shoulders. Failure to recognize reality in this fashion would be akin to resigning myself to starvation.
Then again, I'm already starving as it is. Might as well just resign and make it official.
I shift my weight around the folding chair, trying to see if varying my posture will purge this gnawing cramp in my back. The plastic squeaks, the floorboards creak, and... my back still hurts. Another discomfort to add to my growing list of maladies. Hunger and now cramps. What could be next? Full body convulsions? Foaming at the mouth? Given how well this day has been going, these both could be likely scenarios. How delightful. Hikigaya Hachiman, dead at the tender age of 18. Courtesy of hunger, cramps, and teenage romance.
Remember the lion, I think to myself. Expend your energy in the hunt. Then, after you are full, you will have bought time to be lazy. It's a counterintuitive play, but reality tends to lean that way. People fall in love to fall out of love. People work to be free of work. People live in order to die. People park on driveways and drive on parkways. Life simply has a sick fetish for paradoxes and the like, and I am determined to kink shame it until it musters up some ounce of shame and renounces such illogical deviancies. Not that it ever will. But at the very least, nobody can stop me from trying. Kink shaming is my kink.
Heh.
Okay, not really.
The website suddenly bombards me with a requisite onslaught of 18+ advertisements and virus pop-ups. Luckily, I've had more than enough training in the past to maneuver this obstacle. My mouse darts across the screen with pinpoint accuracy, nailing every 'X' button within view before the ads have a chance to load. Even the decoy buttons don't phase me for a second. Please don't ask me why I know how to do this. It was a dark time.
...Though not as dark as the giant pop-up window that blasts onto my browser, turning my entire computer screen black. I quickly summon some keyboard shortcuts, easily obliterating the menace to my data security. The Totsuka album will remain safe. For now. With the enemy vanguard annihilated, my attention turns to the task at hand. Slowly, the computer cursor crawls over the webpage and opens up what should be Zaimokuza's direct message inbox with a cautious click. Remember the lion, I tell myself. You are the lion. You must hunt. Finish what cannot be avoided. Be done with it all.
The first message scrolls into view. These can't all be that bad, right?
ZKUZAZERO:
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Omae wa mou
shindeiru
I close my laptop and exit the room, making sure to shut the door securely behind me.
I walk slowly to the kitchen and open the refrigerator. It's mostly empty. I walk slowly to Komachi's room and extort a minor fortune's worth of snacks from her private stash. I walk very slowly back to the kitchen and sit down, laying my bounty before me. I begin to eat. Slowly.
...This coffee jello is pretty good.
...These shrimp chips have some excellent umami flavor.
...And this half-slice of green tea cake? Delicious.
I slowly make a resolution to someday seize the means of snack production from the Komachi-bourgeoisie.
And I eat. As slowly as possible.
When the snacks are finished, I slowly open and slowly sip a can of MAX coffee. Very refreshing.
When that's also finished, I pretend there's still coffee left in the can and sip coffee flavored air. Not as refreshing.
When that becomes boring I dangle the can above my mouth, letting the residual drops of coffee slide out at a snail's pace.
Komachi wanders into the kitchen to get a drink from the fridge. "Um, Onii-chan, what are you doing?"
"Savoring the final drops of freedom."
"Okay."
Then I slowly pace back to my room, slowly make my way back to my laptop, and slowly lift the screen until it boots up again - slowly, praise the sun - and displays Zaimokuza's first message once more. I read it calmly this time, word by word, without even blinking.
Truly, this must be the power of transcendence that the Indian guru was raving about.
Time to move on. My eyes skim the username of the unlucky recipient of that message. 'Dulcyneah.' Sure enough, it's the name that Zaimokuza showed me in the club room. Whoever you are, I am sorry your eyes had to see this-
DULCYNEAH: Haha that's so sweet! i love the reference, got any more? ;)
...What?
I continue scanning through the logs. For every one of Zaimokuza's hamfisted attempts at banter or conversation, this girl has responded remarkably positively. Almost too positively. My finger scrolls faster. They have over 10 pages of these messages, all following the same pattern. Perhaps they really are meant for each other? Two otakus, soaring off into the sunset together on a fleet of giant mechs? That would be one weird show with horrible viewership numbers and no second season.
A bright green line of text next to her username catches my attention. ONLINE. I spend about five minutes mulling over what to say to Zaimokuza's potential partner in matrimony before deciding that such a decision isn't worth exhausting my valuable reserve of Hikigaya brainpower.
So with a few swift keystrokes and no further deliberation, I begin to type, opting for a delicate angle of attack.
ZKUZAZERO: Hi.
DULCYNEAH: hallo! :3 what's up?
ZKUZAZERO: I like you romantically. Please go out with me.
ZKUZAZERO: In real life.
I wonder if Yukinoshita will believe me when I tell her that I tried?
Then a single word blinks cheerfully onto my screen.
DULCYNEAH: Sure!