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Yuu-3
“By the way, Onee-chan. Ichihime-chan was saying something,” Misa said as we were in the middle of washing our dishes, as if she had suddenly remembered something.
Ichihime-chan was Misa’s classmate and a girl who often came to visit. I thought she was the world’s cutest girl next to Misa in the younger-than-me-category.
“She said that there was this… loan shark kind of system? It’s running rampant in the schools around these parts. How scary!”
“How scary indeed.” I nodded gravely.
One could say that the never-ending supply of loan shark users is emblematic of the problems of today’s youth. Loan sharks are a fact of life, and they exist because users want them to solve their problems.
“Also, about that loan shark. Apparently, you have to pawn off your used underwear!”
“—Huh?”
I could not believe my ears.
I had once considered setting up a shop for selling used bloomers and sailor outfits. However, I doubted that I, pure and perfect girl that I am, would be able to keep up continuous profits even if I were to attach bromide to my products, so I immediately gave up on the idea.
“Wait just a moment. They’re lending out money for underwear?”
“Yep! I couldn’t believe it. I don’t get what’s so fun about collecting people’s bras and panties!” Misa burst out laughing as she scrubbed the dishes with a detergent-soaked sponge. The way she stamped her feet lightly gave off the look of an indifferent angel in the dark side of society. I certainly hope for her to remain so pure and healthy when she grows up.
“A loan shark that pawns underwear, huh…”
My finance system exerted absolutely no control of that nature.
I understood now. Had my former clients not grabbed onto the crutch provided by the other loan shark?
Over this last week, my investigation had, through some means or other, reached a deadlock. Yes, it must be said that Anna-san is like a sesame seed: the more you squeeze, the more oil you get (1). Unfortunately, no matter how much I interrogated her, she would merely cry. Maria-san, too, chose only to ignore my messages entirely. When I contacted Shia-san, she also appeared to have gone missing.
This might have seemed like a trying predicament, but one could detect an unexpected ray of hope. It would have been perfect if only I had my right-hand man who was useless to society, but, well, that was another story. I had no desire to think of that particular person.
“Also, she wants you to talk with her brother. Ichihime-chan seemed kinda worried about something.”
“Talk with him…?”
I tilted my head. If there was a mirror, it would have shown me looking at Misa as if she had grown another head.
Ichihime-chan’s surname was Suzaku and she had only one brother, so when she said “brother”, she had to be referring to none other than the Suzaku, the student council president.
Speaking of which, ever since we had chanced upon each other in the staffroom, I had been receiving the odd text message from him. Things like I want to make sure the rumours about you aren’t true, or there’s something important I want to talk to you about, or I don’t want to judge you by what other people say.
He was using the oldest trick in the book to approach me.
Namely, acting as if he had something important to discuss in order to get close to me. A perfect girl like me could see right through everything.
He might pull in any plain Jane with that trick, but I had no affection for the goody-two-shoes student council president. I would not deign to give a response to him this time, either.
“…I have to say, Suzaku-san really doesn’t seem like your type, Onee-chan,” Misa said suddenly as if she understood me perfectly. “It’s the same as the plushies you used to like as a kid. The more things they had wrong with them, like torn fabric and buttons that came off, the more you liked them.”
That might have indeed been the case. In the end, one’s likes and dislikes are nothing more than an accumulation of subjective impressions. My world belonged only to me. My measuring stick, too, belonged only to me. Whatever I said about someone else was based entirely on my subjective impression of the world I lived in.
But still.
There is a limit to all things. There was no way I could support the worst man on the planet, someone like Kusaoka-san.
“No way. I don’t know that person.”
I cut off my words there, prompting Misa’s eyes to widen in surprise. “Huh? Who are you talking about…?”
Realising my mistake, I hurriedly turned my face away.
Without an apron to protect me, Misa nibbled at me like a tiny turtle. “Hey, hey, who is it?! Who is it?! By any chance does it have something to do with how you’ve been coming home late these days?!”
“I don’t know.”
“I have no idea what you’ve been doing, but come to think of it, you’ve been saying you found someone really nice! I thought it was rare for Onee-chan to talk with a boy, and now look!”
“I said I don’t know!” I hunched my shoulders in a huff.
Ever since that day, a corner of my mind remained fixated on him. Is it not permissible for me to charge a premium rate for lending out my brain cells, even if it was on a whim?
Honestly, what was his problem?
TRANSLATOR’S NOTES
(1) The ruling class in Tokugawa Japan used to say this about peasants.