“Nee’s read way too many of those kannou books in our library,” pointed out Miru. Kuroha’s face went red from cheek to cheek.
“If you’re saying something like that... Miru, you knew what it meant all along, and you were just teasing me!”
“Kuroha, you need to translate one of those kannou novels and read it to me. We can have a brother-sister kannou novel recitation!” I suggested.
“I-I don’t read th-those kind of books, all right?!” blurted out Kuroha.
Oh, she’s totally read them all right.
After that Mr. Bedhead kept asking her more questions, but Kuroha got them all correct.
“Aniki, it’s no use-noda.” The professor tried to get him to stop. “Kuro-chan walks around with a dictionary under her arm. That’s just how hard she studies. She can read more kanji than you can-noda.”
“Kuroha-san, you walk around carrying a dictionary because you want to make sure you can completely support the person who needs it here in the 21st century, right?” asked Yuzu-san.
Hearing this, I was taken aback. Kuroha was walking around with a dictionary all the time because of me? I had no idea... I looked over at Kuroha with a mixture of happiness and embarrassment.
“D-Don’t get any wrong ideas, Onii-chan. I just wanted to memorize vocabulary, that’s all.” Kuroha was blushing ever-so-slightly, and didn’t look me directly in the eyes. She started to fidget with her hair, which was a habit of hers when she got embarrassed.
“Do you get it, Aniki? You can’t beat Imose-kun. And the reason why is...” The professor put her hands on her hips, and finished the sentence with exaggerated conviction. “...because your little sister doesn’t have enough feelings for you!”
“Meguri... Why you little...” Mr. Bedhead writhed like a beast.
Umm, Professor? I think you are actually making him more angry...
The furious Mr. Bedhead turned his boat toward Kuroha and the professor’s boat and charged forward. Even in the body of a little girl, he was able to row pretty fast! The boats crashed into one another.
“Kyaaaaa!” “Uwa!”
Kuroha and the professor’s boat rocked violently, and the two who had been standing fell on their butts. Kuroha’s dictionary and the professor’s pouch flew up into the air, strewing pieces of paper and gadgets along the floor of the boat.
“Mr. Bedhead! That’s your own little sister! What if she falls overboard and drowns?!” I yelled.
“Who cares if we’re related by blood?” he shouted. “I, Myself, shall forgive no one who mocks me, even be it my own sister!”
“I don’t want anyone lecturing me on schools or education who can’t even treasure their own family!”
“As if you knew anything at all, you brat!” he snarled.
Odaira-sensei tried to calm down the seething Mr. Bedhead. “Sadame-kun, if we are going to argue theory, then let us narrow it down to the subject of literature. Is that not for the best?”
“That’s right, Mr. Bedhead. I don’t really know about education or school stuff. Let’s talk about literature instead. Why do you hate orthodox style literature so much?” I asked.
Mr. Bedhead shut his mouth tightly. It seemed like he had listened to us and was thinking about how to respond. After a bit, he answered, once again in the mood to argue.
“First off, there are those frivolous illustrations. Why must novels have pictures like that? That’s proof right there that their prose is weak!”
“You’ve gotta have pictures,” said Miru.
“Miru’s totally right!” I agreed. “With the illustrations, it’s way easier to visualize the characters!”
“It should be the words themselves that evoke people’s imaginations,” he snapped. “The power of a picture is unnecessary.”
“But it’s because of the pictures that panty flash scenes and scenes where people get naked stand out!” I protested.
Mr. Bedhead’s eyes lit up. “Yes! That’s exactly it! That’s the part that I will never, ever accept! To titillate the reader with a frivolous showing of skin or underwear is the banal and degenerate filth that I am talking about!”
Well, you can say that, but... To someone like me who had been basically raised on panty flashes, they didn’t seem like degenerate filth to me at all.
“And what’s more, it is usually an image of a girl whose age is far outside the boundaries of the acceptable who is the subject of such foolishness,” he added. “It’s clear proof of the immaturity of the one writing it.”
“You’re now a little girl too, you know,” said Miru.
Mr. Bedhead considered the implications of what Miru just said and responded, “This body is hardly proof of my own immaturity!”
“Hearing all this hatred toward panty flashes of little girls makes me want to show you one even more! Sadame-kun, look at this!” yelled Odaira-sensei, flipping up his skirt. For just a moment, I could see a miniature universe in white.
“D-Don’t show me such inelegant undergarments!” I was quite moved, but Mr. Bedhead turned his cute little head and shut his eyes, as if something unsanitary was about to get in them.
He has no sense of the value of things, does he?
Odaira-sensei kept flipping his skirt again and again, prodding with, “How about this?! How about this?!”
Each time Mr. Bedhead would strike an exaggerated pose and yell, “Stop it!”
He must be quite conscientious to make sure to respond to Odaira-sensei every time like that.
“They’re both actually guys on the inside, you know? This is pretty surreal to watch...” sighed Kuroha.
I think it’s something I should treasure witnessing.
“I had no idea that a little girl showing another little girl her panties could feel so good! Sadame-kun, hurry up and strip off those bloomers and show me your panties, too!” suggested Odaira-sensei.
“Did you hear that, brat?!” Mr. Bedhead exclaimed. “This is the Odaira that stands at the pinnacle of the orthodox style. A person as vulgar as him cannot help but to write vulgar novels!”
“Mr. Bedhead, what are you saying?” I protested. “Panty flashes are the symbol of the orthodox style. Sensei is opening up his soul to you!”
“Soul? Hardly! The orthodox style has no soul! It is the very definition of hollow!” he snapped.
What?! “How can you say that it doesn’t have a soul?! The orthodox style is nothing but soul itself!”
“The stories are flimsy and they’ve lost all humanity. They have no message or theme! And worst of all, their prose is infantile!”
No matter how impeccable his logic, I couldn’t accept it. “And now I know how little you really understand orthodox style literature,” I replied.
“What?”
“Ever since the time of Oniaka through current-day literature, having a strong story has been considered a minus. Rather than a story, what is important is to have ‘situations.’ Rather than humanity, strong characters are important. The story’s message is left for the reader to freely interpret as they wish, so putting one in too strongly is a no-no. As for prose, I can only say that different eras call for different styles.”
“You are a fool, brat, for suggesting that the orthodox style is so commonplace. It is because it has been overrun with such rubbish that literature is dead!”
“It is not dead!” I cried. “The way that literature is valued has changed, that’s all! For example, in current literature, saying a book has ‘a strong theme’ is a criticism!”
“Are you saying that the more idiotic, the better?!” he shouted.
“No, that’s not it! What I’m saying is that what you think is idiotic might not be to people from the 23rd century!”
“You basically grew up in our library, Aniki. Your thinking is way off from normal people-noda,” added the professor.
“Here’s an example, Sadame-kun,” prodded Odaira-sensei. “Say a person who lived in the time period of the Man’yoshu came to the Meiji or Taisho e
ra and criticized your precious Torahiko Touji’s works. They’d say, ‘It’s weird that he uses these letters that aren’t kanji, and I can’t relate to how the characters are thinking.’”
“Every one of you, cease with this inanity! There is not a single virtue to the orthodox style! It is nothing but a plague given rise by the vagaries of time!” yelled Mr. Bedhead, his angelic white cheeks flushing red.
“It’s not just some random occurrence! And it has virtue! It’s easy to read and understand! It’s fun! That’s exactly why it’s spread around the world and become the heart of literature!” I argued.
“You will never convince me! The orthodox style is not literature! It is the literature of my ancestors which is right and true! And I, Myself, must take my ancestor’s literature and cause it to be reborn!”
He’s stubborn. Nothing will get through. It probably won’t matter what we say... But it couldn’t be helped. Just as I had said, the value of literature has changed too much from modern literature to current-day. It was hopeless to think we could come to some agreement. No matter how I explained the wonders of the orthodox style, Mr. Bedhead would never be able to understand. In that case...
“I understand. Both the orthodox style and the literature which you love so much are valuable,” I said. “They are different, so there is no point in saying one is superior to another. Isn’t that good enough?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, brat! Of course one is better than the other! The literature of my ancestors is superior! Its beautiful prose and complex story... The artistry which separates it from the crowd... The orthodox style cannot hold a candle to it!”
“I won’t reject your literature, Mr. Bedhead,” I said. “But my love for the orthodox style is unchanged. I believe that each might be completely different from one another, but both of them have value in the same way!”
“Don’t even compare them!” he screamed. “My ancestor’s literature and the orthodox style the same? You make me retch!”
To Mr. Bedhead, the literature of Torahiko Touji was perfect and amazing, and it wasn’t looking like he would ever accept the orthodox style. This is gonna take a lot of work to convince him...
As I was trying to come up with a strategy, the professor leaned toward him. “Sheesh-noda. I wasn’t planning on saying this, but... Aniki, I’m gonna tell you something good-noda.”
“Something good?”
“It happened before you screwed everything up-noda. After I made the time traveling marshmallows, I broke my own rules, just once-noda.” The professor narrowed her eyebrows. I looked in closely as well. “The rule I broke was ‘Never go to the future.’ But I lost to my curiosity, and went to take a look-noda. All the way to the 38th century.”
The 38th century... That would be over 1,500 years since our 23rd century. I wasn’t even able to imagine what kind of world it would be.
“Japan in the 38th century was amazing-noda. Not only did Japanese not use kanji, it didn’t even use hiragana or katakana anymore. The Japanese of the 38th century used only symbols and numbers-noda.”
“Only symbols and numbers? Don’t be ridiculous,” scoffed Mr. Bedhead.
“But it gets even more surprising-noda,” she went on. “What we call the prime minister now was a pair of pantyhose. Not a 2D character wearing pantyhose-noda. The pantyhose itself-noda.”
None of us could hide our shock.
“The pantyhose faction was just one of the three major political forces, which also included the Kneesocks Party and the Leggings Party.”
So there are still political parties that far into the future?!
....Ah! “...Professor, don’t tell me the name of pantyhose faction... It wasn’t...”
“If I translated it into our words, it would be called... the ‘Panty-Hose-Party.’”
I knew it! Those people from the future totally get it!
“Ugh, that pun is like something a lonely pervert would think up,” muttered Kuroha.
“Nii, Meguri just wanted to say ‘Hose-Party,’” explained Miru.
“Hey, I’m not some old man making bad jokes! It really was called the ‘Panty-Hose-Party’-noda!” complained the professor.
“So, what were the humans like in the future?” I asked.
“There were... human-shaped ones, at least-noda.”
“Oh, I see.” I supposed they’d had heads and limbs, at least.
“Meguri, what the hell are you trying to say?” demanded Mr. Bedhead.
“Even in such a radically changed 38th century, they still passed down ancient works of literature,” the professor said. “Looking back at literature written using kanji or kana from that far in the future, there wasn’t any difference between the two-noda. They were treated as essentially the same-noda.”
Mr. Bedhead looked ever so slightly surprised.
“Even the orthodox style literature that you hate so much and the modern literature which you love are all lumped into the same category of ‘ancient literature,’ and are considered pretty much the same,” she went on.
“Ancient literature? I cannot believe it...” Mr. Bedhead was incredulous.
“What do you think, Imose-kun-noda?” asked the professor.
“Well, it’s really far into the future,” I said. “If you say it’s that way, maybe it is?”
“Looks like you believe me-noda!” the professor cried.
“As if such a future would exist! Is there no limit to your mockery?!” her brother shouted.
“Here’s the proof-noda.” The professor gathered up the piece of paper that had fallen into the boat and showed it to Mr. Bedhead. I was at a bad angle and couldn’t see what was written on it.
“...? What is this? Something from that other girl?” he asked.
“Huh? Oh, my bad. It’s this one.” The professor picked up a different page and showed it to Mr. Bedhead.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Mr. Bedhead looked as if he was in a state of total shock.
“This is what literature in the future looks like-noda. Now that you see this, don’t you realize the pointlessness of arguing over whether the literature of the 23rd century is ‘right’ or ‘wrong,’ Aniki?”
I wonder what was written on the paper she showed him? It must have been writing from the 38th century, right?
“That’s just something you came up with on your own,” said Mr. Bedhead, dismissively.
“You can believe me or not. It’s up to you-noda. But if I’d had the time to go writing something like this, you know I’d have spent it on my hobbies or research-noda.”
Mr. Bedhead had no response to that. He pressed his lips together and peered closely at her. The usually-quick-to-argue Mr. Bedhead was silent. He must have sensed something.
Perhaps what I said is finally getting to him? Maybe we could convince him, after all!
“Mr. Bedhead, I know that you hate the orthodox style, but isn’t it better to promote the things you love instead?” I asked. “Think back to the reason you decided to become an author. I’m sure it’s because you had a noble wish, or someone you wanted to be like...”
“Listen to Imose-kun, Aniki-noda,” the professor agreed. “The reason that Imose-kun wanted to write stories was for his little sister Kuro-chan-noda. As for me, it’s not like I’m going to go crazy when I heard it was ‘for his little sister,’ but it did make me think, ‘That’s nice’-noda.”
Kuroha looked at me with surprise in her eyes.
Oh, that’s right! While I was talking with the professor about the past, Kuroha was passed out, drunk. It’s kind of embarrassing.
Mr. Bedhead opened his mouth as if to say something back, but the professor continued on.
“You were moved by our ancestor’s writing, right? I can’t sympathize with you, nor do I want to, but I can understand being moved by something and how that can be your motivation-noda.”
“Don’t forget how you felt that day!” I pushed. “It’s true that in a world filled with the orthodox style,
it might be difficult for your work to be accepted. But wasn’t there just Usubi, which was nominated for the Homyura Prize? If you keep trying your best, one day your novels will surely come out into the light!”
“Silence!” Mr. Bedhead shouted. “I don’t need you people to tell me what my goals are! That’s precisely why I must change the future!”
“Ahaha... I figured we couldn’t convince you,” the professor laughed. “I can understand how you feel-noda. Compared to Imose-kun here, it would be way harder for your books to be accepted-noda. It’s no wonder you’re so unsatisfied.”
I had thought that Mr. Bedhead would respond to the professor with more rage, but instead he blurted out a simple, “Wrong...”
“I’m not wrong-noda. After all, you say a lot of stuff about education and how great you are, but it’s basically just about how jealous and coveting you are-noda. You want your talent to be accepted just as much as orthodox style literature, and you want to be popular with girls. That’s all it is in the end-noda!”
“I said you were wrong!” he snapped.
“But you’re too much of a coward to go out in the world when you set the bar so high, so, like a coward, you changed the world instead of trying to change yourself-noda,” the professor said. “A person like that won’t amount to anything no matter what they do-noda. They won’t create anything-noda!”
“Stop this!” Mr. Bedhead couldn’t even tell her she was wrong anymore. Everything she said must have been a direct hit.
But, Professor, we’re not trying to back Mr. Bedhead into a corner, we’re trying to persuade him...
I’ve gotta think... Why is Mr. Bedhead so hard-headed about this?
If there had been a reader who could understand his writing, things would have been different. “Amazing, interesting, this time it wasn’t so good, but try again next time...” If there had at least been someone to say these sorts of things, Mr. Bedhead would be able to listen to other people’s opinions, at least a little bit. But there were almost no people who could read the modern literature that Mr. Bedhead wrote.
......!
“There is someone!” I exclaimed. That’s right, there is. There is a person who can read his works, very very close to him right now! “Kuroha, I want you to read something Mr. Bedhead wrote and tell him what you think of it, right now! I’d read it myself if I could, but I can’t.”
My Little Sister Can Read Kanji: Volume 2 (Ereader) Page 12