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Komachi and Hiratsuka‐sensei walked towards us, clutching boxes bulging with vegetables. The two of them seemed to be giggling over something greatly amusing. Somehow, I could guess what they were talking about. In all likelihood – me.

Since one of my main talents was excessive self‐ consciousness to the extent I generally assumed I was the butt end of the joke whenever I heard laughter in class, it was easy to make an assumption of that nature.

"What's up, Hikigaya? You seem gloomy. Book boys don't like the outdoors, I take it?"

"No reason…" I trailed off back at Hiratsuka-sensei. "Hey, Komachi, what were you talking about?"

"Huh? We were talking about all the stuff you've done for me. You're such a nice, super helpful big brother who helped me out and showed me his old essays for the sake of my book report. Ah, your service built up my Komachi points," she sang.

"Uh huh," I hummed. I didn't buy it. They shared a look.

"You really do look out for your little sister," Hiratsuka-sensei observed.

"It's easy. She doesn't ask for much and needs much less. If it's for my little sister I could do a lot," I waved off.

"No no no. Don't think you can hide it from me. I see through you Hikigaya."

"Oh? And what do you see?" I asked absently.

"I see you clinging to life and to reason for the sake of your family."

I looked away. I wasn't well. I could have built the pyramids with the effort it took me to cling to life and reason.

"It ain't like that chief. It's just pretty much my sister. My parents are casualties. Or at least they can be."

"I'm sure you love them."

Maybe so. But they could find my body and I wouldn't care. I bobbed my head absently. "They love my sister more than they love me. Which is fair. I can't really blame them for that."

"Have you considered… have you considered telling them where you're at?" Hitasuka-sensei wondered.

"A little. But what could they do? It's hard enough being a career man or woman without a psychotic son."

"You're not psychotic."

"Pretty psychotic. I have psychosis. I'm psychotic."

"You just seem so self aware."

"Yes, actually, I think that's part of the problem."

"Big brother is thoughtful. He looks after his dumb little sister."

"You're not dumb, Komachi." I returned.

"I'm not as smart as you are."

"Yeah but my brains mess up my life. If I was dumber I'd be happier. Instead I'm all fucked."

"Language Hikigaya."

"I like swearing," I shot back. "I'm nobody's role model."

"You're my role model, big brother. Ah! I think that made my Komachi points go up!"

I grinned at her and showed my teeth. "You think everything has to do with those damn points."

"Don't they?" She blinked confusedly.

"No. Sometimes it's just me and my thoughts in a dark place."

"You go to dark places on purpose," Komachi pointed out.

I shrugged and took the box from Komachi.

"Even though I said you were thoughtful, big brother, you just won't acknowledge it," Komachi grumbled in complaint.

"Did you really expect me to?" I wondered.

"Well… I suppose not. But it would be nice if you did," Komachi pointed out.

It would be nice if I could think straight but that didn't make me a ruler. I could see it. Me thinking straight for the sake of my little sister or my family in general. I even wanted to be able to do it. But I was all twisted. I was a tentacle of this… thing. And I wasn't sure how deep into me it ran. It probably ran pretty deep. But I could imagine living my life and making my parents proud. Just the same way I could imagine bringing home some girl to meet my family at some point. I could imagine it. That didn't make it likely or probable.

Hiratsuka‐sensei looked like she was just about to flick Komachi in the forehead, but stopped herself. "Well, something thereabouts. More than half of it was fond stories involving the two of you. We were asking each other about our childhood memories."

"Waaah! That's, like, foul play… that'll make my Komachi points go way down or something…" Komachi's face was turning beet red in front of my eyes. She coughed loudly and affectedly to distract us from her reddening cheeks, before sending a sideway glance in my direction. "J‐just joking… d‐did my reaction just now raise my Komachi points?"

"You goofball." I patted her head affectionately. She glowed up at me.

We made it to the quote unquote kitchen. It really was a firepit and sink. But it counted as a kitchen out here. I'd rather be at my place studying fractals or something but I had to be here. My… my friends were all here. I pondered that for a moment with great affection for Yui and Saika and… and Yukinoshita. I guess. I still didn't quite know how to feel about Yukinoshita.

I started washing the rice and prepping the vegetables. There were three slices of pork. I think meat is a little weird. Stuffing the carcasses of deceased cousins down our gullets. You must admit that eating in general is a gross process. My literal humanity disgusted me.

"Well, when you think about it, it's appropriate for sixth graders to cook rice outdoors." Even Yukinoshita blurted out the orthodox way of thinking.

It won't change you for the better, but it was a safe choice that didn't leave much gap for failure. "Yeah, I guess. In real houses, the curry you make shows something about your character. The curry your mother makes is full of stuff, like thick fried tofu and so on."

"Hmm, so that's how it is, huh." Yukinoshita's answer was cold. I mean, she was always cold, but this time she only made some non‐committal response, and somehow she seemed listless.

Oh right. Didn't Yukinoshita have issues with her mother? Maybe she didn't know what I meant. Had her mom cooked for her like mine did for me when I was little? My mom always looked after me when she could and after I had a rough day at school she would make sweets for me even though she was busy. My mom really loved me and I cared about her as much as I was able. I mean, we both loved my little sister more but that didn't mean we loved each other less. My mom still barely visited me in the hospital after my accident and sure she was busy so I didn't hold it against her. But there was something special about a home cooked meal by your mom. I wondered if Yukinoshita had ever had that or if she hm like, servants or something. How rich was she?

"Yup, that's how it is," I said. "Like noodles made from konnyaku and daikon. You whip things up in a pot."

"Yeah, yeah, like putting fish‐paste cake in it and stuff, man." Tobe joined into the conversation suddenly.

"Uh, yeah." I was so startled I couldn't even muster a decent response.

Hey, don't talk to me so casually. I'll end up thinking we're friends, damn it.

But Tobe acted as if he didn't mind and muttered vague, incomprehensible things like, 'fish‐paste cake and seafood, man' under his breath. Maybe he actually was a nice guy if he was willing to have a conversation with me, of all people. Not much to say. It pretty much spoke for itself. And that weird conversation I had with Hayama didn't really count. It was weird. Maybe he was a nice guy too. But I wasn't sure how to feel about him. He set my teeth on edge.

Beside me, Yui was humming as she peeled the potato skins with a peeler. Since she wasn't using the kitchen knife, she must have tried it once and given up. "But we can make stuff like mama's curry, ya know. We just need to put some weird leaves in it and stuff. I mean, my mum was pretty ditzy and all."

She was the ditzy one. No mistaking it – it was hereditary. I'm begging you, please take out the sprout. You'll die of solanine.

Cute though.

I shook away the unbidden thought.

"Ah, look. A leaf just like this," Yuigahama said as she hurriedly put down her peeler and reached over towards a twig, plucking a single leaf. Yeah, it's a leaf! Whoopdee doo. That was the kind of feeling the leaf gave off.

"You're thinking of a bay leaf and it goes in soups and stews and the like," Yukinoshita informed her.

"Don't just go adding leaves off the ground to our curry," I admonished. I didn't need her taking liberties where my dinner was concerned.

"I wasn't going to. Do you really think I'm that ditzy?" Yui asked.

"I think you like to experiment with your cooking when you probably shouldn't," I corrected even though I did in fact think she was that ditzy.

I thought it was a touch adorable but I'd hardly say such a thing out loud.

"Yuigahama you should stick to peeling the potatoes. And try not to cut yourself," Yukinoshita said shaking her head.

"Its a peeler! I can't cut myself with it! Or-well, maybe I could. That would really hurt. Peeling the skin off like that."

"Do you need me to show you how?" Yukinoshita asked with something tender in her voice. Her tone made me double take. It lacked its usual chill. Hayama glanced over, I noticed.

Yui blushed and shook her head. "I can do it. Thank you Yukinon."

I looked away. The heat of their exchange burned at me. I could hardly look at it. Like staring at the sun.

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We had our individual duties, but we also finished the preparations for cooking and washing the rice. With that over and done with, we were thoroughly in charge of preparing our own servings.

I arranged the outdoor cooking utensils into a set and boiled the meat and vegetables in a pot. Throughout all this, Ebina‐san was muttering, "Carrots look phallic… how lewd," although Miura kept knocking her on the head. As the only one to grace that statement with a comeback when no one else was willing, wasn't Miura honestly kind‐hearted in her own way? But violent heroines weren't popular these days.

.After putting water in the pot and boiling it, I picked out two types of curry sauce and put them in. The fat brought out the flavor of the three slices of meat, while the curry sauce made it spicy. Now to carefully boil it all together. As you'd expect from older students, along with the veteran cooks, things progressed quite smoothly.

While I looked around my surroundings, steam and smoke rose from pots here and there. It was the first outdoor cooking session for the elementary schoolers. I could also see quite a few of the groups were having a tough time with it.

"If you've got free time, you may as well look around and help them out, huh?" Hiratsuka‐sensei said, her words tinged with an unspoken 'not really my thing, though.' Not my thing either. I wasn't a teacher and I wasn't a role model.

"Well, you don't get many opportunities to talk to elementary schoolers," Hayama said, as if he'd gotten well on board with the suggestion.

"But the pot's boiling."

"Yeah. That's why you stick around in one spot."

That's not what I meant when I said that… for some reason he assumed I always agreed with him. When you think about it like a normal person, I was trying to say I wasn't going because the pot was boiling, right? Right? That's what I meant. Why did it sound like I had just tried giving him advice? I wasn't about that. How had this turned around on me?

I decided on a hasty withdrawal for the moment.

"I'll keep watch on the pan…" I announced.

"Don't sweat it, Hikigaya. I'll keep watch for you." A grinning Hiratsuka‐sensei stood in my way. I glowered at her and she just smirked. What a bitch. I mean honestly… she set me up.

I followed Hayama and watched the elementary schoolers greet him with metaphorical open arms. They were quick to explain what was special about their curry and the way they were making it and Hayama listened with rapt attention and plenty of compliments. He could just go up to people and talk to them. I ought to be jealous but I didn't have the energy. What was I to do? Tobe was in a similar camp but I found myself hanging back with Yukinoshita and listening to the little tikes ramble.

These kids knew nothing of the value of money, the significance of studying, nor the meaning of love. I'd do a lot for love. I hung on for my family. Well, one member in particular. These kids would grow and learn those things with time. Time was on their side even if it wasn't on mine. I was… I was running out of time. Sooner or later Komachi wouldn't need me anymore and then I'd… I'd what exactly? Hang myself? Overdose on pills? Neither of those sounded pleasant. I'd prefer a gun but this wasn't America.

These kids would learn in middle school about frustration, regret, and despair. I knew despair in my heart and soul. I struggled vainly for meaning and truth. I inflicted horrors on myself. I knew that about me. I didn't make things easy for me at the best of times. I took the long route when I could take shortcuts. I even did it with my math. I could bide my time and be patient but that just wasn't in the cards. I wanted success and beauty. To quote Aldous Huxley 'But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.' And I did. I wanted the struggle. The struggle gave life urgency. It gave life purpose. The game. It all came back to the game.

"Do you like curry?" Hayama called out to Rumi. We'd returned to that group. Hayama called out to her and put her in a difficult position.

Seeing that, Yukinoshita sighed softly – so softly you wouldn't even hear it. She thought the same way I did.

Hayama didn't claim the right to be unhappy in others nor himself. What did he know about sin, comfort, poetry, God, and goodness? What did he know about being alone? He didn't. He simply called out to Rumi like he mend the gap and bridge it for her. Yukinoshita and I recognized that it was impossible. Rumi must struggle.

He put her in a stalemate. I wanted to tell Hayama off but how?

"Hayama," I muttered. He turned to look at me. I whispered. "You can't help her."

He heard me where the kids didn't. He looked down. "That's not true," he denied.

I sighed. I thought of Crime and Punishment in those moments. Where an innocent man confessed and the paranoia and guilt buried Raskolnikov. The investigator dragged the truth out into the light and only then was there peace. 'It was you, Raskolnikov.' The giddy laughter of the investigator, his beckoning jeers in the interrogation room, the burden of murder and the weight of loneliness.

There was nothing to be done. Like the toss of a coin that I couldn't even see.

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-WG