Let’s talk about Youth Points.

“Five-Points” is the most which could be scored in a single event; below are some examples.

First and foremost are the One-Point’s, such as chatting with girls during recess, eating with friends after school; anything that involves having a normal student life generally generates these points.

But Youth Points depreciate over time, and negligence of these points cancels out any acc.u.mulation. These events may be fun at the time, but a lack of memorable highlights is something no high school graduates want.

Next is the two-point. Similar to the above examples, some of the most iconic activities include talking to a girl in the nearby park during the twilight. Two-Point’s are mostly One-Point’s catalyzed and enhanced by factors such as “night” or “club activities;” if One-Points are the basics, then Two-Points are the applications. They don’t come often, but with a bit of wit, chances are definitely not insufficient.

Three-Point activities are riddled with many uncertainties – as the name suggests, they are sort of like the Three-Pointers in a ball game: making a decisive shot isn’t easy, yet a successful one can easily turn the table. In short, it is a leap of faith.

A date with a crush easily ranks as a Three-Point; note that, however, regular dates with an actual girlfriend won’t gain any more points – these points are limited to single-sided romance or ambiguous relationship.

But at this point, care should be put when determining whether the other is giving ambiguous remarks, or simply drawing lines.

Aside from that, Three-Point’s also contain special occasions with group activities. Things like a gathering for a trip, celebrations for clubs, etc, are all very unlikely and therefore score high.

Chances for Four-Point’s mostly come from specialized events; school festival is exemplary, but these events have to be partic.i.p.ated in with intent: a distinct goal and preemptive steps to prevent any chances that lead to potential point loss.

On the other hand, if the surrounding atmosphere doesn’t feel right and fails to build hype, it’s hard to get higher points during a sports festival. Most people can’t even enjoy sports to the fullest, reason being that gaps between individuals’ athletic abilities are far from small.

Graduation ceremony as well – from the methodical viewpoint, many points can be racked up during this event; after all, crying one’s dignity away amidst the sea of sadness could be considered joyous to some.

To begin defining Five-Point’s, their subjectivity must first be established. If a person can proudly declare “This is it!” to a specific memory, that, to him, must have been determined as a whole Five-Point.

For example, running wild in town disregarding basic human dignity for a crush; and winning the Koshien championship.[1] Only by stepping on the fine line between permanent PTSD and eternal glory, and sprinting forward can one ever hope to achieve the highest points.

For those without ambition, the tail of a Five-Point is forever out of reach.

In a sense, adolescence can only prosper in a capitalistic manner.

With a deep understanding of the essentials, along with the needed capacity to grow, a person may even get more than twenty Youth-Points in the three years of high school. Such wealth in the future, universities and vocational aspects may not hold much value, however.

But for someone who’s reached nirvana, accomplishment feels drastically alien than for the commoners.

Since life’s ‘process’ exists only for ‘result,’ it is obvious just how significant high school is.

… I was just bored, and came up with these definitions on a whim.

The brain tends to spin when the hands are busy at work, so I couldn’t help but think about a few things.

Only, what kind of fetish do I have, getting all excited from stuffing things into boxes? Obsessive Compulsive Disorder? Vertical Movement lover?[2] Rectangle cultist?!

“Ahh, humans do enjoy categorizing. Or should I say differentiating?”

I nitpicked at my own thoughts while humming, and glanced at the television, at the meantime stuffing my luggage. My exuberant feeling contrasted well with the room, which became more and more desolate as time pa.s.sed. Despite having sleep deprivation, my spirit elated: in all, my condition was top notch.

Like in the common galge’s [3], my parents moved oversea, leaving their son with two more years of high school at the house of my aunt. Two days after my official transfer notice was accepted, four more remain before my relocation. For the yearning me, this is like welcoming the peak of my life.

This year is my first ever to not complain about the short break during spring.

I can’t wait for the arrival of the next semester.

After all, where I’m going is the city; cla.s.ses will have more than twenty people, and student stores will have more than just curry bread on their menu. The campus may even have convenience stores, or ten-minute-one-thousand-yen barber shops.

Honestly speaking, from the Youth-Point standard, my past high school life has nothing but negatives. If enrolling into the school equates to starting from zero, then my total points are probably negative three. The points that are lost like my youth – never mind a refund, I can’t even keep my own balance. But that changes today.

“Wahahah! Heehee~!” If my neighbor saw the disgusting smug on my face, she’d probably move her house further away. Sense of superiority drove my limbs numb. This feeling is probably the same as those liberated from major exams, when the last of the anxiety melts away. How soothing. Is this how the Cochlea feels after readjusting from a shock? [4]

“I’ve never been to the sea; I wonder what it’s like!” After settling down in the city, I have to ride the train to the beach, and rack those Youth-Points up! If possible, with a girl, and if not, a group is fine.

I put the only prize I ever won during elementary school into the second cardboard box below, and stuffed an entire rope-bound textbook on the top. “Ahh, but I’d probably have to re-buy all the books.”

Like a college girl moving out of a c.r.a.ppy apartment agonizing over her old fridge, I tilted my head, immersed in the entertainment that is choice-making.

Regarding the explanation as to where I am living, it is full of things that can make a highschooler like me hop in joy.

My aunt lives alone: she has no husband or children, and she works (of course). In essence, I am living independently with few restrictions. Put into words, it’d the dream every rebellious, pre-p.u.b.escent high school boy could only wish for – an evil incubator that they wish to live in even by throwing away money and pride: “How could anyone simply express this?!” To me, it is probably just the momentary defiance which sought to topple adult’s ‘plan for healthy teen’ that excited me so much.

My hysteria for a new life could probably rival even the joy of apes that defiled a whole field of crops for a delicious meal.

Would a b.u.mpkin like me offend the cliques of the city kids? I couldn’t even care about such problems. My boiling heart beat – so wonderfully that it felt like a nudist streaking through the spring sun.

I feel absolutely terrific.

The four days of combating gravity, turning and defeating the luggage (basically, wasting a lot of energy) are over: the days of my city life finally began.

Two days ago, I bid farewell to my old cla.s.smates. It was inevitably disheartening, as in the countryside students tend to stick to the same cla.s.ses; hence members of the school hardly changes. Even if we only spent about a year together, there were still many familiar faces.

More or less submerged in the sentiment, I think the atmosphere and scene of the parting were satisfactory.

If a girl were to cry for me in front of everyone, I planned on mailing her entire person to where I live. Of course, I ended up not being a kidnapper. With the power of the EMU [5], I said goodbye to the land where I"d lived for almost fifteen years. I didn’t know anyone well enough to have them see me off.

My parents also left j.a.pan about a week ago, heading to somewhere called the Socotra Archipelago or Soviet Union – something like that.

But, if the excitement blooming from the departure was enough to cancel any Youth-Point negativity, wouldn’t my balance be back to zero? As if peering into the horizon of my heart, I felt the compatibility between a great mood and a fresh start.

Being able to experience the welcoming ceremony twice in itself is also rare enough.

Two and a half hours pa.s.sed quietly as the train seat shook me gently. About midway of the trip, I apparently slept for about an hour. Most of the seats were filled with pa.s.sengers by the time I woke up, and the scenery outside had changed from fields to houses and factories.

Ear buds stuck in my ears (This grammar may make sense in English, but it’s like saying nosebleed from the nose) returned to silence after finishing another round of shuffle.

I took the iPod out of my pocket and played another song, but listened with little attention as I was barely awake.

With blear eyes, I gazed at the name of a company gardened on their lawn, appealing to some environmentalist messages – Mount Fuji and even the ocean pa.s.sed my view, all while the PA read out the names of destinations.

‘I’m almost there.’ I took out my cell and sent a mail to the inbox of my recently-registered aunt.

‘I’ll meet you right away.’ The train hadn’t even slowed down, and a reply already arrived.

“.......” Was she serious? It’s hard to tell from a text! I deemed it to be a friendly response and put my cell back.

Most of my luggage was already delivered to my Aunt’s house; I carried only a wrinkly, dry bag which reeks of bleach as my carry-on.

The neighboring purple-haired woman moved her leg for me; I nodded to her, and moved to the walkway. Perhaps led by my walking toward the door, pa.s.sengers originally standing at the walkway all started the preparation to get off. Every time I brushed by a person, I’d shoot a glance; no signs or stickers to differentiate people of the city and the countryside, nor were there fashionable people clanking with accessories.

I didn’t even smell the so-called urban air. My sense of excitement waned.

The train rode into the platform. It was six times the size of the town station where I used to live; people filled the entire stop. I shriveled a bit. Music of my iPod went from piano performance to the howling of a male vocal – a preparation for my courageous journey. The automatic door opened as I plunged first out of the cart; the line began pouring out.

I didn’t ride the escalator, instead climbing the stairs towards the ticket booth. Started half-way, I thought for a bit:

My aunt – the person whom I will be living with: what kind of person is she? I’ve never met her. From the sole information that came from my parents: “She’s a big kid - a combination of an adult and a kid.” Hence, her name became “Aunt Kamaboko” [6] on my contract list; but how well does this intelligence mix with the overall impression? All I could think of was one of the Yakult salesladies[7].

The ticket machine stopped for a second, but I went through shortly. I dodged to the wall on the side so as to avoid the crowd, and began scouting.

I looked around for my aunt anxiously – more so than the girl with dyed hair next to me, who was probably looking for her boyfriend. My father gave me a twenty-seven year old picture of him and his sibling. But to look for my aunt this way, I might just end up being Urashima Tarou. If anything, I’d rather be Momotarou (TL Note: Urashima Tarou is a fisherman in j.a.panese legend who rescued a turtle, and was rewarded with a visit to the Dragon G.o.d"s palace. He stayed for three days, but upon returning, realized that time above had pa.s.sed three hundred years. Momotarou is also figure in j.a.panese legend who was born from a giant peach and raised by an old couple. He later on went on a crusade with a dog, monkey and pheasant to defeat the Oni, or demons, terrorizing the land.)

“Makoto!”

Someone probingly called out my name. The little man living in my mind, like a youthful Edison, relayed all of my consciousness (from the Martian station) – coincidentally, his name is resentment. My name is Niwa Makoto. Not Tana, Niwa; not Shin, but Makoto. [8]

I turned to the right in search of the owner of that voice. A refreshing, thirty-some year old woman looked straight at me. Since we are not familiar enough to communicate through our eyes, I had hoped that she’d be more tactful.

I couldn’t help but avert my gaze and shut my lips, unsure of what to say during the moment.

“You are Makoto, correct?”

She smiled politely due to my lack of response, and gently asked again. Elegant, refined behaviors of a young girl created a gap between her demeanor and appearance. Plus one to first impression.

"She smiled politely due to my lack of response, and gently asked again."

“Ah, yes! I am Niwa Makoto. Ugh, nice to meet you!”

I hurriedly bowed. Even I feel with my petty attempt to act polite. “I will be in your care for a while!” Fl.u.s.tered, I added on. Ugh, real smooth.

“No, no. I should say the same.” My aunt bowed as well, her long hair pouring off from her shoulder.

“Ah, I’ll hand you a business card.”

She crudely searched in her purse after straightening her back, and retrieved a plastic card case. She opened the case and handed me a rectangular card befitting the Golden ratio of Fibonacci.

“Thank you, how polite.” I took the card with an absolute mess of a manner and skimmed it:

"Touwa Meme – “Thirty Nine”" A bold double-quotation mark emphasized the age label. It would appear she wants to carry out the “What are frozen shoulders?” way of life, though the business card’s expiration date was barely a year away... [9]

Still… Even though I knew beforehand, her name… How strange.

“Um, Touwa… Probably has an artistic or floral origin, or maybe it’s a generic pseudonym; it may even be the written name of the alter ego, but...”

“It is my actual name!”

I sensed every attempt from her airy lines to sound younger. I recognize the characters, but do I read it MeMe, or Jojo? [10]

Perhaps noticing my confusion, my aunt added on:

“Touwa Meme. But you can call me Jojo.”

She blinked. Crow’s feet emerged on the sides of her eyes. If I accidentally spilled it, my life may be cut short. I swallowed gingerly and reevaluated the business card.

The name speaks explicitly about the naming sense of the parents. I would definitely laugh if I saw this somewhere on the web, but I’d rather be polite in front of said person.

“I see~” I gave a simple voice of a.s.sent, put the card in my wallet and waited for a sign to move.

“Let"s take the taxi home today.”

“Ah, sure. How luxurious!” As I spat out these words, I realized I may have became numbed to them.

Meme-san briskly crossed the road ahead with a genial smile; about half way there, she asked while stroking her hair.

“Are you tired after spending so much time on the train?”

“Yeah, since I haven’t been on one since the middle school field trip.”

“Is that so~? You are a second year in high school, right? They sure grow fast~”

“Right. Is the school close to your house?”

“Hmm~ it’d take about fifteen minutes on bicycles. Ah, but that’s for me – you should be faster.”

We prattled along the way, talking about trivial things. One thing that did strike me was Meme-san"s unique mien – one that was neither intimate nor estranged. Like warm but sticky water, it’s not discomforting, but slightly unnerving.

“Hold up~” Meme-san waved at the green taxi next to hub. I thought it was kind of cute, but I"m not into older women, so I looked to the high school girl from earlier waiting by the light with her boyfriend from a distance away; I stared at the frill of her skirt. How unbearable... No, no; I pushed away the thoughts. "Are you stupid~?" Even though she mouthed those words to her boyfriend, I did not feel one bit repulsed.

I got into the backseat, Meme-san the pa.s.senger seat. She told the gray-haired driver our destination. She spoke quickly, and I didn’t even remember a word. I sunk into the seat as I rubbed my heavy eyelids. On a different topic, how come Meme-san sat in the pa.s.senger seat when there were only two of us?

For some reason, she didn’t especially turn to talk to me. Sigh, even if she did, the conversation would probably just die miserably in this hole. I’m grateful that she didn’t try to talk.

As I first entered high school, my parents required me to study at a local university; being able to live the style of life I almost gave up half a year ago, I am deeply grateful for the blessing in the form of Meme-san.

I want to live a semi-independent life in this city. This is a place perfect for growth – nay, for Youth-Points!

My goal for the next two years: a total of fifteen Youth-Points.

Ten minutes after leaving the row of skysc.r.a.pers, the car drove into the housing area. Despite that, the environment lacked green; metallic building filled the scene, and I was somewhat bewildered.

The city brimmed with the scent of metal. Compared to my hometown’s smell of dirt, it seems to be full of promises.

After my little secret celebration, I met Meme-san’s eyes through the rear-view mirror.

That was awkward.

As the taxi pa.s.ses under an overhanging sign, she suddenly turned back with a radiant smile.

“Welcome to the city protected by aliens.”

“…Huh?”

A smile and a sentence more aversive than welcoming.

A jagged ray of confusion mixed with words traveled from my eardrums to the brain.

Judging from the lack of reaction of the driver, I couldn’t deny the possibility of mishearing. I sincerely had no words.

“Eh~ No reaction?” Meme-san put up a fake smile with wide eyes.

“There are many sightings of UFO’s here – kind of like in Florida?” She explained.

“Oh~” I see how it is. Before I understood, I thought “maybe this person is an alien fanatic?” Maybe she was born during the time of MMR? [11]

But youth does not belong in the milky ways. Potential points set in my mind began to dwindle in their number.

“Older grocery stores even sell these ‘seventh-dimension’ key chain figures!”

“I don’t understand, limiting technology like that in a three-dimensional shop.”

Besides, aliens and dimensions may sound relevant, but are in fact unconnected. The difference between them is like that of electronic and rhetoric.

“Do you want to go straight home, or explore a bit?”

Meme-san confirmed the definite part of my travel, and asked me for the indefinite part. “Hmm, let"s see.” I scratched at my temple, taking my time before answering.

“I can make a simple introduction for ya if we walk home.”

She spoke with just the right amount of kindness – enough to be wiped away with a finger; enough to not make things awkward.

“Have to take care of the luggage… Let’s just stay home.”

I hesitated at the word ‘home:’ whether I should have added ‘auntie’s home.’ But for brevity"s sake, I didn’t bother. Maybe talking like this can actually bring us closer in the end.

“Alrighty~ Then let’s have dinner at home!”

The smile on her face never faded till she turned the other way.

And so, the taxi drove on the asphalt road for five more minutes.

“Ah, this is it.” Following Meme-san’s instruction, the taxi stopped at a plain spot with no landmark. Left door to the back seats opened automatically as I first exit the car. I glanced at the taxi meter as I left; with the allowance my parents gave me, I can at least ride twice back-and-forth. Speaking of which, where do I get allowance from now on?

Part time jobs? Or are my parents sending it to Meme-san?

“Here we are – Makoto’s second home~”

Meme-san stood next to me after paying the taxi. According to her, I can live here like at my own house (how shameless of me).

Though I would like to elaborate, there really wasn’t much to describe in my new abode.

It was very normal: an inconspicuous house. If someone took a picture of it and posted it everywhere around town, no one would compliment it, saying things like “Wow! What a wonderful mansion” – any comment like that would probably result in suspicions like “Is this a new form of house fanaticism?” Sigh, maybe this house only appears normal, but is full of mechanics and traps like a ninja’s house – spinning hidden doors and junk, things impractical in real life.

“Let’s head in!”

“Oh yes, uh, I’ll be in your care now.”

Before stepping inside, I greeted once again. If a son’s att.i.tude is less than stellar, others will doubt his parents’ teaching!

“How polite of you.” Meme-san copy-pasted my line – of course, recycling and using it with a different tone of voice. “That should be my line, really. Sorry, please excuse everything.”

She swiftly replied… hmm? Just now, I thought I heard something like an apology blended into her words…?

Ahh, she meant “sorry if my mansion was so grand?” I must have came off a bit too c.o.c.ky~

Aunt Meme opened the slide-door before I even finished solving the mystery. I followed as she disappeared into the entrance hall. I tried sniffing, curious to know what type of life transpired here… Just then –

“I’m home!”

She deftly took her shoes off and landed lightly onto the hallway… Hold up.

Before putting your slippers on,

Before calling my name,

Before putting on that smile,

There is something by your feet you should watch out for!

I can see the imaginary starting-line drawn by my feet distort.

“Makoto, try saying that too!”

But she ignored my piercing gaze, and repelled it with a money-worthy smile.

The world’s focus blurred instantly.

“…Eh, ah… Yes...” I answered while locking my sight to the lower right.

I came from the country side, but I can"t speak in its accent, and my p.r.o.nunciation is rather stiff. This is not important, but… Next to the carpet laid on the entrance hallway, there was something – no, someone?

… From then, my enthusiasm paralleling that of a kid’s night before field trip was frozen off by an omen that spread in my heart.

It"s like seeing an abnormally cute puppy, but only being able to think “What"s wrong with the furball? The fleas are everywhere now!” and refusing to hug it.

The pile of thing dropped a load of ‘reality’ into my dreamy life.

"The pile of thing dropped a load of ‘reality’ into my dreamy life."

On the lovely entrance that will later see the reluctant me off to school, and welcome an absolutely tired me home…

A Chikuwa-like object lay there. [12]

That person fashioned — to be precise, swallowed by the outfit — an attire tasteless anywhere on the globe,

Fully expanded toes, completely throwing the doubt of sleeping on the floor out of the window,

That thing nagged at my brain, and I wanted to stomp on it and kick it around.

“……”

The spring sun shone down through the frosted gla.s.s and into the entrance. A chill froze up my back as droplets of sweat perspired. I sensed wiggly lines on my forehead, poking and dancing on the skin.

My Youth-Points are slapped back to the negatives.