009. The Heroine Who Raises No Banners

A suffocating silence enveloped the dining table; if one were to trace the origins of this atmosphere, it would certainly begin the moment Megumi Kato finished speaking, leaving Tomoya Aki half-dead, sprawled across the table.

Jiang Yu quietly sipped his coffee, Megumi Kato wore a contented expression as she ate the swirl of ice cream atop her coffee and the newly ordered slice of cheesecake.

“…By the way, Kato, what happened to that hat? It’s lucky it wasn’t run over by a car!” Tomoya Aki’s weak voice came from beside her.

“Oh, I gave it to my cousin’s child,” Megumi replied after swallowing a small bite of cake.

“Huh…?” Tomoya straightened up, staring intently at Megumi.

“During spring break, my cousin came to visit. She seemed to really like the hat, so when she left, I gave it to her as a souvenir. She was thrilled.”

Megumi’s signature tone: neither warm nor cold, neither enthusiastic nor indifferent.

“Ah, I see… That’s good, then.” Tomoya returned to his listless, defeated state, his expression one of utter despair.

Jiang Yu, meanwhile, wore a peculiar look, as if suppressing a powerful urge to comment.

You’re probably questioning your life at this point, Tomoya. Something like, “Is my fateful encounter worth less than family ties? Is that really how it is?”

In traditional galgame stories, the pivotal item that binds the male and female protagonists has now, joyfully, found its way to another girl.

Tomoya had finally summoned the energy to ask a question, only to be struck down again by the cruel realities of the world…

And Jiang Yu, glancing at the seemingly delighted Megumi eating her cheesecake, could no longer restrain his inner urge to make a sarcastic remark.

You really are calm, Megumi, aren’t you?

And it’s the kind of calm that makes one sigh in regret.

Unable to hold back his laughter, Jiang Yu patted Tomoya’s back and whispered, “Don’t mind it—don’t mind, Tomoya, there are no flags in real life, right? Pfft, hahahaha…”

Finally, Jiang Yu couldn’t contain himself and burst out laughing.

Tomoya sighed helplessly, gazing in silence at Megumi as she ate her cake.

Once Jiang Yu had managed to settle down, he offered a slight apology to future colleagues nearby, then looked across at Megumi, who was now watching him curiously because of his laughter—his facial muscles threatened to twitch again.

“Ah—no problem, Megumi, it’s nothing,” Jiang Yu waved his hands, struggling to compose himself.

“I just… cough, I just thought it was really a coincidence at the time.” Jiang Yu wiped away tears of laughter from his eyes and took a sip of nearly cold coffee to soothe his dry throat.

“Ah—if Tomoya had really noticed me, it would have been quite a coincidence.” Megumi’s tone remained flat as she made her remark.

Megumi, are you the designated straight man for this scene?

Just as Jiang Yu was thinking the atmosphere was finally growing harmonious…

“Ah—Tomoya, are you dating the school’s number one beauty? Or rather, two of them?” Megumi suddenly spoke up.

Tomoya was visibly stunned. He adjusted his glasses, looking peculiarly composed, much like that eternally youthful detective whose movies keep premiering every year, and replied calmly, “Megumi, there are three errors in your statement.”

“First, the ‘school’s number one beauty’ is a trope that doesn’t exist in real life.”

“Second, the idea of there being two ‘school number one beauties’ is contradictory.”

“And third, it’s a misconception that someone like me—a hardcore otaku—could have a girlfriend in the real world.”

“Then… what’s with those people outside?” Megumi asked, tilting her head toward the window.

Tomoya’s voice of despair echoed through the café.

Jiang Yu turned to look outside; near the window were two girls whose expressions clearly said, “Ah, truly furious.” One, a blonde twin-tailed girl, was glaring at Tomoya with gritted teeth, while the other, wearing a white headband, had been scowling but suddenly seemed to notice something surprising, her face contorting into an indescribably comical expression.

Hmm… perhaps a mix of shock and anger?

…

Soon after, the pair outside entered and sat across from Jiang Yu and Tomoya.

Tomoya kept his head down as if reflecting on his actions, while Jiang Yu looked a bit lost, faced with the sudden arrival of two beautiful girls.

After a long silence, Megumi spoke—wait, shouldn’t it be expected?—“Um, Tomoya…”

“What is it…” Tomoya muttered, still looking downward.

“Why are Sawamura and Kasumigaoka-senpai here?”

“So, you know them. That makes things easier…”

Hey, don’t ignore me over here, completely at a loss! Jiang Yu wanted to interject.

Apparently sensing Jiang Yu’s confusion, Megumi continued, “I think there isn’t a student at our school who doesn’t know them.”

Sorry, but you have one right in front of you.

“After all, they’re the two main beauties of Toyonoki.”

“So please stop using those game-like designations,” Tomoya retorted weakly.

“And now, with Tomoya, the three most famous people of Toyonoki are gathered here.”

“What a small world…” Jiang Yu commented.

“So, I’m the only one who feels totally out of place—it’s troubling, really.”

“Sorry, maybe me too…” Jiang Yu supported his head with his right hand, agreeing.

“Ah—is that so…”

“Don’t worry, those two may seem superior, but they’re not, really,” Tomoya said in a low voice.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, not only are their words sharp and their personalities cunning, they’re both otaku as much as I am—or as much as Yu.”

“…Don’t lump me in with you as a hardcore otaku,” Jiang Yu sighed.

Tomoya suddenly grew serious. “Let me introduce you, Megumi. These two are members of our game development club.”

“Sawamura Spencer Eriri, in charge of artwork, and Kasumigaoka Utaha-senpai, responsible for the script.”

“…Sorry, I don’t understand.”

“It truly is absurd, Tomoya-kun,” Kasumigaoka Utaha commented, her leg beginning to bounce rhythmically. “Is this your excuse for ditching us and leisurely drinking coffee here?”

Tomoya laughed awkwardly, coughed, and then said, “And this is Megumi Kato, our club’s newest member, and the heroine of the game we’re making. Jiang Yu, our scriptwriter.”

Eriri muttered something under her breath.

Megumi, surprised—even if her tone remained calm—said, “This is the first I’ve heard of it. And it feels like I’ve been given a very rare title. Is it just my imagination?”

Tomoya adjusted his glasses. “What are you talking about! Eriri and Utaha-senpai, you as the heroine, Yu as the scriptwriter, and me as project coordinator…”

Perhaps it was just his imagination, but Jiang Yu thought he saw a gleam in Tomoya’s eye.

“This is our strongest game development club!”

“Sorry, there are so many things wrong here, I don’t even know where to begin,” Jiang Yu replied mercilessly.

Eriri suddenly leaned in, closely scrutinizing Megumi.

Startled, Megumi kept her signature flat tone. “Um, Tomoya, Yu, it seems Sawamura is staring at me…”

“Eh… I don’t really know Sawamura, so don’t ask me…” Jiang Yu waved his hands.

“…Don’t mind her, she’s terribly nearsighted; she just seems fierce,” Tomoya explained calmly.

“I’m wearing contacts right now,” Eriri retorted, unimpressed.

“I was trying to smooth things over for you, don’t be ungrateful,” Tomoya said with an amused sigh.

“…So, you’re Tomoya’s…” Eriri looked at Megumi.

“Um, just classmates,” Megumi clarified.

“Whatever. Whether you’re classmates, girlfriends, otaku friends, or anything else, I’m not interested,” Eriri replied coldly, turning away.

“Uh… wasn’t that last bit a bit harsh? For Megumi…” Jiang Yu couldn’t resist interjecting.

But as soon as he spoke, Megumi and Utaha both glanced at him, leaving Jiang Yu baffled.

Tomoya explained, “That’s just how she is, no matter how perfect she acts at school…”

“Shut up! Don’t act like you know me! You just happen to have known me a little longer, that’s all,” Eriri replied, and the group heard the dull sound of a shoe hitting flesh beneath the table.

Tomoya shot back, “Then stop clinging to someone you’ve just known a little longer!” and received another kick from Eriri.

For a moment, Jiang Yu and the others heard the patter of shoes under the table and the two bickering like a comedy duo.

“…Please don’t behave so indecently, Sawamura,” Utaha said impatiently, leg still bouncing.

“I can do whatever I want to this guy,” Eriri retorted, continuing to kick Tomoya.

“If any students from our school are here, it’ll be trouble, won’t it? ‘Perfect girl’ Sawamura?”

“That’s none of Kasumigaoka Utaha’s business!”

“…Tomoya, weren’t you supposed to be making a game? There must be a project plan, right?” Watching them nearly come to blows, Jiang Yu quickly spoke to Tomoya, blinking furiously.

Eriri and Utaha paused their pointless verbal sparring and, one after another, passed around Tomoya’s project plan, written in a day.

When it was Jiang Yu’s turn, he saw a handful of lines. The character information was mostly unknowns, and under “selling points” were phrases like, “Innocent and urgent, content so embarrassing it makes your skin crawl.” Jiang Yu felt his social anxiety flaring up.

Once everyone had finished reading, the atmosphere grew strangely tense, as if the air itself had solidified.

“…So, what score does this get?” Tomoya asked cautiously, as if awaiting judgment.

“Still zero,” the first arrow pierced Tomoya’s chest.

“Nothing more to say this time,” the second swiftly followed.

“Tomoya… whatever you want players to see, whatever feelings you want to convey, you haven’t shown any of it,” Jiang Yu finished, delivering the final blow—First Blood!