Looking at the cover, there was a picture of a woman. The book was titled COLLECTION OF LIGHT NOVEL COVERS ☆.
Light novels were one of the genres of modern literature. It was said that they influenced the Orthodox literary style. It must have been a collection of the cover illustrations for those books. I’d seen them in my art history classes.
Miru asked Kuroha a question without even looking up.
“Hey, what does 憂鬱 (yuutsu/melancholy) mean?”
“It means when you feel down in the dumps.”
“And 召喚獣 (shoukanju/summoned beast)?”
“Uh, hmm... Like an animal you call out, maybe?”
“And what’s 大魔王 (daimaoh/demon king)?”
“Umm... the leader of the bad guys or something?”
Miru kept asking Kuroha questions and not looking particularly satisfied with the answers. It seemed like she was reading the kanji written on the cover illustrations.
Miru might have been only ten years old, but she could read a lot of kanji already. She picked them up even faster than Kuroha, who was called a child prodigy.
The Imose family had produced generations of linguists and translators, but Miru’s ability with language rivaled that of her greatest ancestors. And she wasn’t just a genius at words, but at drawing as well. As an example, if you were to ask her to draw pictures of characters like the cover illustrations she was looking at, she would be able to without any trouble at all. I almost feared what she might become.
On the other hand, there was myself.
I could not read kanji. I could not even keep up with my sisters’ conversation. I was a mere commoner.
I had frustratingly attempted to learn kanji many times. But it was like they were a completely different language to me. How in the world is someone supposed to memorize not hundreds, but thousands of symbols?! Only a true genius would be able to read and write them.
I did not have the blood of the Imose family running through me. The brain I had been born with was just too different from that of my sisters.
Not being able to read kanji posed no problems for my daily life. But knowing so vividly that I was unrelated to my sisters pained me, and made me feel distant.
“Nii, what’s the matter? You’re making a scary face.”
It seemed like I had gone off into my own little world, and I had a stern look on my face which Miru was now staring at.
“Ah, sorry.”
“Got dumped by a girl?”
What’s with that all of a sudden?!
Miru seemed to take my stunned silence as an affirmative answer. “I’ll strangle the bitch,” she said cooly. Miru was innocent, but had a foul mouth.
“Miru, stop that,” Kuroha scolded.
“Aren’t you curious, Nee?”
“There’s no way he was dumped... or picked up for that matter. That’s not in the cards for him.”
As it was the truth, I had no rebuttal.
“Don’t feel sorry for yourself, Nii... I’ll give you a treat.”
Miru reached into her bag, pulled out a round, white object, and handed it to me. It was a marshmallow.
“Here’s one for you,” she said, handing another one to Kuroha.
Miru loved marshmallows. She always carried some around with her. She never kept them all to herself, and was always giving them to other people to eat. She’s such a kind girl.
“We’ll eat them on the train,” I said.
It was a journey of twenty minutes from the closest station to our house to reach TOKYO. A long time ago, it would have taken the bullet train two hours, but in the current day, it only took a fraction of the time. Like the time it would take us all to eat marshmallows, we would be there in a jiffy.
Odaira-sensei had said he would meet us at the entrance to the history museum. The museum was in the center of a large park. It was a grand, historical building that was said to have been built more than 200 years ago, and many visitors were there.
So where might he be? I peered around, searching for him. Oh, there he is.
Odaira-sensei was wearing a brimmed hat and holding a walking stick. He looked like a proper English gentleman. Also, he was holding a white flag in his hand. He had said he would be holding some sort of sign.
Ah, I see now. That’s easy to recognize.
On the flag was written: “Your Onii-chan is 此処 (koko/here)!”
Your Onii-chan is... something? It must have been a message meant for my sisters who could read kanji. It made me sad that he didn’t take me into consideration.
“Maybe we could pretend that we don’t know him,” said Kuroha, sounding disgusted.
Why would we pretend we didn’t know him? Is she feeling bashful all of a sudden?
“Sensei!” I yelled, waving my hand. He noticed, flung aside the flag, and headed toward us.
As I was about to greet him, he blew right past me as if I were not even there. He stopped behind me to stand in front of my sister Miru.
“Uwo...oooo...uwowooo...” He managed only a groan.
Miru stood there with her mouth half open in disbelief, looking up at him. “Who is this geezer?”
Miru, calling him a geezer is rude! I started to panic, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“Miru-chan, you’re right in the middle,” he said. “If you just had twin-tails, you’d be smack dab in the middle!”
“Kuroha, what is she in the middle of, do you think?” I asked in a whisper.
“...I’d rather not put it into words,” she replied, looking intently at Odaira-sensei. I wasn’t exactly sure what he was talking about, but knowing him, it must have been something literary.
“Miru-chan, let’s go inside!” he cried, trying to grab her hand.
“Shove it,” she said, slapping it away irritatedly.
What do you think you’re doing?! I started to panic even more and was about to apologize, but rather than getting angry, he seemed pleased.
“Miru-chan, what a delight you are! Like a surly little kitten!” Perhaps he was getting excited, as his face began to turn red.
“Say more mean things to me! I just love making icy little girls fall for me!” he proclaimed, his body quivering slightly, with his stomach stuck out. “N-Now, Miru-chan... call me ‘Onii-chan.’ And then I shall act coldly to you. Yes, I shall act coldly as I am called ‘Onii-chan’ by a little sister who says mean things to me... I can’t get enough of that!”
Miru looked up at him with a displeased expression. Perhaps she was suddenly curious, as she jabbed him in the stomach like pressing a button.
“Ah, ah, ahhh! Yes, yes this is it! ...I’m gonna overflow... It’s all gonna come out!” His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his tongue was hanging out of his mouth.
That’s quite a face he’s making. It looked almost like steam was going to come out of his eyes and nose. Did he mean water vapor was going to overflow?
“Onii-chan, wait here for a second,” said Kuroha as she watched Odaira-sensei and Miru. With a frozen expression, she headed toward the security guard station. After a bit, she returned with a number of security guards, and they took Odaira-sensei away.
“Kuroha, Sensei was taken to the security station!
“Yeah. I didn’t anticipate he was at such a level...”
Such a level? I don’t know what you mean... Oh, I get it now! A person as famous as Odaira-sensei would cause a large commotion with all the people asking for his signature, so it must have been safer for him to stay in the security station. I guess being famous isn’t such a great thing all the time.
I had wanted to visit the museum with the professor-like Odaira-sensei, but considering the circumstances, it couldn’t be helped. We decided to go around on our own.
“Miru, I’m really sorry. This is because I told him we’d bring you to meet him... I bet you were scared.” Kuroha consoled her.
“Naw, he was a funny old coot. May he rest in peace.”
I’m pretty sure he’s not
dying anytime soon!
We entered the museum. It seemed there was currently a “Heisei Exhibit” on display. Odaira-sensei’s latest work was set in the Heisei era, so perhaps there was a bit of a Heisei boom going on in the world.
We started going around the first floor. It started with a corner that showcased the people’s lifestyle in the Heisei era.
In the middle of the floor was a platform surrounded by glass, and inside was a full-sized recreation of a normal household room. On a plaque was written “PEEPS ROOM ♪.” In the middle of the room stood an approximately 20-year-old young man with glasses.
I guess he lives in this room? It seems like this figure had been recreated from the data of an actual person.
“Wow, wow!” said Miru, pressing her forehead up to the glass and taking it all in.
Indeed, it was impressive. He seemed completely real. They must have used the latest techniques in robotics engineering, as he didn’t look like a mannequin at all. He looked like a flesh and blood human being.
The furnishings were also impeccably crafted and looked authentic. “Doesn’t seem that different from today,” said Kuroha, impressed.
It was true. The layout of the room and the clothes the young man was wearing seemed surprisingly not that old-fashioned.
“Nii, there’s all kinds of stuff,” said Miru, pointing to the center of the room.
There were many figures of girls, books with girls on the cover, and boxes with illustrations of girls on them. All the illustrations were of girls.
“What’s that?” asked Miru, pointing to the wall. An illustration was hung there. How very like Miru to be interested in pictures. It was a full-body illustration of a girl. There’s a ring above her head, so it must be a drawing of an angel. Around her body was wrapped what looked like the legs of an octopus. The tentacles seemed like they were squeezing tight, and the girl’s expression was like she was in pain.
Ji●riru: The Devil Angel was written on it, and I could read the Ji●riru part, but the rest was written in kanji.
Tentacles squeezing an angel? There could be no mistaking it, this illustration was –
“A religious painting!” I gasped. It was a picture of an angel, so that was what it must have been. “The person who lived in this room was a very devout Christian, I see. Japan must have been deeply religious in this era.”
“Oh...” nodded Miru in understanding.
“Is that really what it is?” asked Kuroha, doubtfully.
I’m pretty sure I’m right about this one!
“The figures on the shelves are clearly in the image of the Holy Mother Mary,” I told her. There were dozens of figures lined up.
“Are you sure that Mary would be holding a guitar, or an axe, or wearing what I’m pretty sure is a school swimsuit?” asked Kuroha, with a chilly look.
“It’s from like, 200 years ago. That might look like a school swimsuit, but it’s something different. It could be the garb of a devout Christian.”
Kuroha stifled a laugh.
Hey, are you making fun of me?! I was about to give her a piece of my mind when Miru pulled on her skirt.
“Nee, look at that,” she said, pointing at the boxes strewn over the floor. The boxes had text as well as illustrations printed on them. Thomas the 痴漢者 (chikan/molester) was written on it, but all I could make out was “Thomas.”
“Nee, what does chikan mean?” Miru asked.
“W-What?!” yelped Kuroha in a high-pitched voice.
Chikan was an old-fashioned word. I had heard the term before, but I wasn’t sure what it meant.
“What is it?” Miru asked.
“Uh, well, it’s...”
“Tell me!”
“Ummmmmmm...” Kuroha seemed in a bind, but then her expression got serious and she proclaimed to Miru, “Watch closely!”
What is she getting at?
Kuroha moved closer to me and gestured twice as if she were rubbing my butt.
“Miru, do you understand? This is what a chikan is.” Will she really understand the meaning like this? I don’t have a clue what she’s talking about...
Miru looked back and forth between us, and said calmly “Nee, that’s called being a 痴女 (chijo/molestress).”
“How do you know what chijo means but not chikan?!” Kuroha shrieked.
“Mom and Dad taught me.”
“Mom and Dad aren’t that open about such things! ...Miru, you’re just teasing me, aren’t you?!” What in the world does chijo mean? And what exactly did Mom and Dad teach her? Well I’d better play along...
“Oh, I think I get it! Mom is a chijo, right? She’s young and pretty, so that’s really chijo-y, definitely. And she must have a lot of chijo friends, too! Miru, write in your elementary school yearbook that you want to be a chijo when you grow up!”
For some reason Kuroha was not pleased. She gave me a death glare.
Miru must have lost interest in learning what chikan meant, as she began looking around the room for something else interesting.
“Nee, what about that?”
“What is is now?” Kuroha asked.
There was an old-fashioned PC where Miru was looking. Something was being displayed on the monitor. There was an illustration of a girl in the middle of the screen, and there was text displayed below, written in both kanji and hiragana. Below that, written in English were the words “Log,” “Save,” and “Skip.” Is this a screen from an old game, maybe?
“Nee, can you also read the words?” Miru asked.
“Yeah,” said Kuroha, looking at the PC screen. It seemed like she was reading the text.
“What... is this?” said Kuroha, her face in disbelief.
What in the world does it say? I also tried to read the display... Nope, can’t understand a thing.
...You should lose your 童貞 (doutei/virginity) to me, your little sister...
“Nee, what does doutei mean?”
“Oh, not this again!” said a flustered Kuroha.
Doutei... It rings a bell and yet it doesn’t ring a bell... It must have been a word that had gone out of favor, like chikan.
“Tell me...” pried Miru, tilting her head to one side.
Kuroha seemed to waver...
Perhaps she doesn’t know what it means? If you don’t know, just say so already!
Kuroha pointed at me and said, “You’re one, Onii-chan!”
“Huh?” I replied, dumbfounded.
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it, Onii-chan?”
“I don’t really understand...”
“You’ve just got to be one, Onii-chan! I’d bet my entire allowance on it.”
“Well, if you put it that way...”
“If you say so, Nee, then I’ll believe you! You’re always watching him real close.”
“I see. Well, then I guess I must be a doutei,” I said.
“Understood.” Miru nodded in agreement.
What exactly does she understand?
“It means you’re kind and cool,” said Miru.
What a nice thing to say. And yet, I had a strange feeling something was off. “But, then why should I ‘lose’ it? Wouldn’t it be better to keep it?”
“You should really stop digging,” said Kuroha, shaking her head.
I knew it, she really didn’t know what it meant!
Miru seemed to have lost interest in the room recreation, and she started walking to another part of the exhibit. She was a very precocious child.
Kuroha looked at the PC screen again, rereading the text.
“Was this stuff really so common back then?”
“What do you mean by, ‘this stuff’?”
“Never mind,” Kuroha replied, averting her eyes, her face looking slightly flushed. She was staring intently at the young man’s figurines, as if to avoid looking at me. “Was the person who lived in this room really a typical person of that era?”
That’s what it says on the exhibit description, so it must be true.
&nb
sp; We headed to the next floor. Important cultural artifacts were on display inside glass cases.
“So cute!” exclaimed Miru with joy.
Inside the display case were hung what looked like pieces of fabric. Each one had a picture of a human figure on it. Most of them were of women facing forward, although there were a few men here and there.
What are these pieces of fabric? Let’s read the description...
“Ahh, they’re hugging-pillow covers!”
Hugging-pillow covers were a type of bedding which were produced heavily in the Heisei era. As the name implied, hugging-pillow covers were covers for long pillows with character illustrations on both sides. From what I knew, all normal people of that time had them.
“I do have to give the people of the past credit for their inventiveness. It was quite an idea,” said Kuroha.
“Yes, definitely,” I agreed.
“Are they no longer made?” she wondered.
“I’ve heard that there are still some artisans who practice the ancient craft in the old parts of town. Odaira-sensei special ordered some made of his little sisters. He says that he sleeps with a different one of them each night. Oh, and he wants to make one of Miru.”
Kuroha stood there, aghast.
“I want one of you, Nii!” said Miru, looking up at me. “I wanna sleep together with you, Nii.”
“In that case, you don’t need a pillow cover, because you have the real me! If you want to sleep together, that’s fine by –“
stomp
Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my foot.
“Onii-chan!” Kuroha shouted. She had just stomped on my foot.
What’s with you all of a sudden?!
As I was still reeling from the pain, Kuroha leaned in and put her lips to my ear. “Look, Miru just loves you as her real brother, got it? Don’t be getting any ideas.”
“Yeah, yeah... I know that,” I said in puzzlement. Unlike Kuroha, Miru didn’t know that I was adopted. She thought that I was her real, blood-related brother.
“And besides, in our family boys and girls sleep in different rooms starting in elementary school,” Kuroha insisted.
“I get it already. Sheesh.”
My Little Sister Can Read Kanji: Volume 1 Page 4