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DISCLAIMER: The work translated here is the legal property of its original copyright holder. It is translated here without monetary incentive solely for the purposes of promoting domestic interest in the work and improving personal language proficiency. Should the work be licensed for English translation or upon request by the original copyright holders, please stop distribution of this document at once. Please send any and all comments to [email protected] 1‐1 Chapter 1: And That’s How Hikigaya Hachiman Spends His Summer Vacation 1‐1 “Y‐yikes…” a voice groaned softly. As if attempting to stifle that voice, an electric fan hummed and shook its head from side to side. Komachi was slowly shaking her head from side to side at the exact same speed. “Onii‐chan, this won’t do. This won’t do at all…” Gingerly, Komachi put the yellowed writing paper down on the table. “I knew you were one of those types, onii‐chan, but this report just won’t do… it won’t doooo.” “Shuddup, you’re the one who wanted to copy my report. Don’t like it, don’t look at it.” I snatched the paper away from Komachi’s hand, partly because I was upset she had rejected it so thoroughly and partly because I was embarrassed that someone was looking at something I wrote so long ago. “Okay, okay, I said sorry. I’lle just use th parts I can use, so let me see it,” Komachi sang. “Well, it barely looks like I can use it, though,” she added rather unnecessarily as she took the report from my hand once again and started copying down some notes. This was that damned summer vacation homework in action for you. In elementary school, it seemed you were given study booklets called “Summer Vacation Friends”, but that wasn’t the case from middle school onwards. In other words, you had no friends during your summer vacation. If I were to say it in a cool‐sounding way, it would be Friend/Zero. There weren’t many characters in it, so that was good for the artistic design. The middle school I had attended – and which Komachi was attending right now – did not give much homework: a worksheet for English and maths, the supplementary kanji workbook for Japanese and an independent research project, plus an essay or a book report. 1 1‐1 As I peered at Komachi, whose hand had stopped moving as she groaned quietly, I chugged down some chilled MAX Coffee. The particular sweetness of condensed milk coiled around my throat and went straight to my head. That part of it could not be imitated by a café au lait. I also recommend putting shaved ice in it. Even a mature person with mature tastes is partial to sweet things from time to time. The only coffee is MAX Coffee. In my head, I decided on a stealth marketing pitch for this latest craze. Well, since I wasn’t getting money out of it, it wasn’t actuallystealth marketing, though. Spread out across the table was a mishmash of textbooks. The bad habit of spreading out all of one’s textbooks at once, characteristic of a kid incapable of studying, was exhibited here in all of its glory. I drew out a single paper that was buried in the swathe of all those textbooks and promptly read through it. “Ninth Grade Summer Vacation Assignment” was printed in block letters over the summer vacation homework assigned to Komachi. The content was, well, exactly what it said on the tin. My eyes fell on one of the sentences inside. “Hey, it doesn’t have to be a book report, so why not do a normal essay?” “Huuuh?” Komachi looked up and then stood up from her chair halfway, peering at what was in my hand. “Check this out. It says book report and also ‘an essay about tax’.” Very often, kids who weren’t good at book reports weren’t inclined to read the book in the first place. A kid who was bad at reading would inevitably be bad at writing too. Komachi had to be one of those types. She didn’t normally read books, and she didn’t do nearly enough writing besides texting. For a kid like that, a normal essay that didn’t require any pre‐reading probably presented less of a hurdle. “Ahaaaa,” Komachi laughed nervously. “I don’t know a thing about taxes…” 2 1‐1 “Hold that thought. I remember writing about it in middle school,” I said as I fished around the cardboard box on the table. This box was, to put it simply, my box of memories. It contained all my old essays, albums and research projects that my mother had thrown together ine on spot. Komachi had said she wanted to rip off my book report, so here it was. I found something that resembled what I was looking for through my rummaging. “Is this it?” “Show me, show me!” Komachi sprang at me with a jump, coiling herself around my arm. And just like that, she prised the writing paper from me. – On the Subject of Tax Grade 9, Class 2 Hikigaya Hachiman The progressive taxation system is evil. However much one earns, large amounts of it are swiped away as tax without equal compensation. The more one earns, the more the fruits of one’s labour are taken away as tax, and in return one obtains nothing at all. In other words, to work is to lose. If progressive tax is intended to equalise happiness, then I cannot help but call it foolish. There is no such thing as equal happiness in the first place. Conceiving human happiness in terms of money is inherently shallow and lacking in human understanding. The merits of implementing a “riajuu progressive taxation system” that taxes people based on their amount of friends and lovers ought to be considered from this day forth. – 3 1‐1 As soon as Komachi read the first part, she folded the writing paper into a tiny piece. Then she let out a short sigh. “I’ll write a book report…” she muttered with a sheepish look on her face. “I‐I see… I’m kinda sorry.” “I’m the one who should be sorry…” The electric fan rattled as it vibrated, letting out a low hum like an engine. The crickets started chirping, as if suddenly remembering their own existence. “W‐well, how about this, then?” I spoke up finally. “I’ll help you out with your research project. Okay?” “Okay, but I’m not holding hmy breat for anything spectacular,” Komachi said as she turned to her notes once again. There was no point to homework or assignments in the first place if you didn’t do them yourself, but I wasn’t helping Komachi out like this just because she was cute. If that was the only reason, I’d have no choice but to help her out with the book report as well. She sighed. “You gotta make me finish this properly. I even have to sit my entrance exams… I won’t have time for the mock exams right after vacation!” “That’s ‘cos things normally pile up.” “Yeah, haven’t I been doing a good job piling them up myself?” “So piling up unread books is like a stacking game now, huh…” If this was Tetris, she would already have Game Over by now. That was Komachi for you, and yet here she was, right on the verge ofr taking he high school entrance exams. “Are you serious about wanting to take the exam for my high school? Just asking.” 4 1‐1 This should really go without saying, but my sister is a moron – a magnificent and spectacular moron. “I’m serious, I swear. I wouldn’t copy your essay if I wasn’t, onii‐chan,” Komachi answered with total and utter seriousness. Not that I really give a crap, but this really wasn’t the attitude you take when you mooch off the help of others. Whatever, if she had decided on her own what she wanted to do, it was fine. The problem lay in Komachi’s grades. “But man, you really set your sights too high,” I remarked. “Your class rank is sitting around 100.” “Yeah, but I wanna go to the same school as you, onii‐chan.” My jaw dropped involuntarily. For a single, unguarded moment, this sister of mine, who normally treated me without an ounce of respect, showed a glimpse of her warm love for me. The corner of my eyes turned hot and a single drop threatened to fall from the heavens. “If I go to the same school as you and say I’m your little sister, I’ll look like a super nice girl in comparison to you! Since you were scum in everyone’s eyes, they assumed I was super sweet after I enrolled in middle school! I was treated like an angel! I’m a total angel!” It was hard to find a worse reason than hers for enrolling. “…oh, I see.” What angel was she talking about? She was the devil’s crush, I swear1. Komachi was a total demon. “Well, whatever. You can only do it if you try.” “Yep. I’ll do my best,” Komachi responded as she started moving her mechanical pencil once again. 1 A reference to a retro pinball game. 5 1‐1 It was a book report, so why she started writing things down on paper straight away was a mystery.