Crossover Fan Fiction ❯ From Beta To Sigma ❯ Mountains ( Chapter 3 )

Summer exams came and I did very well, right behind Yukinoshita, something that clearly annoyed her, again. She was easy to annoy. Once school ended I took out my bicycle and rail pass and ventured out to various places, sometimes doing a specific ride using my cellphone to help map my route, other times riding until I was tired and then taking the train back with my bike. This did not always work, but most of the tourist trains into the country were more flexible. On one of these trips I was seventy kilometers from Chiba near the Pacific when I started getting calls and texts. It was a technical section and I had my heart rate just so, and it wasn’t my sister, so I kept pedaling and ignored the phone. When I finally reached a good stopping point and pulled off the road to rest and hydrate, I looked at the message.

“Pick up,” I read out loud. Another with the same message. “You’re ignoring me, aren’t you?” It was from sensei? What kind of stalker crap is this? “I’ll find you. Don’t you dare ignore me.” Yeah, cat lady. Whatever. I hydrated a while longer and got a call from my sister as I drained the bottle of water. There was a roadside stand a kilometer away, and some cafes and probably a fishing village along the shore. Places to buy some food and more water. My riding suit was a gift from my parents, for some reason, all bright spandex and a helmet and visor. My riding shades gave good visibility in various levels of light and I was the fittest I’ve ever been. I got some food at a stand and ate, then asked them to fill my two water bottle, which they did from 10 yen, very cheap, and I made the turn inland for my return route. My phone rang and it was Komachi. I pulled over and answered it.

“Where are you, Niisan?” asked Komachi.

“I just left Kujukuri on the 25, heading West back towards Chiba. Why are you asking? Is there an emergency?” I asked. She grumbled, as she does these days.

“I’m with your sensei. There’s a club thing. I packed you an overnight bag.”

“Did you get underwear and my razor? I’m in spandex, sis. And why do I need an overnight bag?” I demanded.

“There’s a combined school outing in Chiba Mountain Village. That summer camp place. Sensei said there’s a request that needs you there,” she explained.

“Can’t they do it without me? I’m training out here,” I complained. Of course they couldn’t do it without me. Women are “strong and independent” until they need a man to fix something they broke. Without men, the world would quickly fall apart because women can’t turn a wrench or do basic maintenance. No sense for mechanical sympathy. The number of successful female mechanics in the entire world wouldn’t fill a small auditorium. This is another hidden fact I had learned through my reading about women, and it was confirmed by official statistics in most countries that published them. Women say they can do anything a man can do, but they can only do one thing men can’t.

“We’ll pick you up. Sensei has a K-van,” Komachi said.

“Does she have a bike rack? I’m not leaving this on the side of the road. I worked two months to pay for this.” It wasn’t that it was super expensive, but I’d put a lot of effort into fixing and tuning it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Komachi said.

“Now I’m worried. You’re starting to act like other girls, Sister. This is becoming a bad habit,” I warned. She humphed loud and hung up. I put the phone away and started pedaling. I’d rather go home than deal with their drama. Unfortunately there weren’t many passable side roads so they found me in Toogane, where 25 met the 126. Sensei had a worn adjustable wrench and some rope. She helped me remove one of the pedals and we tied my bike on the roof. I didn’t like this, but it wasn’t my car getting scratched up, and Sensei didn’t seem to care.

“It’s a rental, and I got the insurance plan,” she waved it off. The girls stared at me like a piece of meat, though my sister waved her hand in front of her face about the stink. Yui and Yukinoshita didn’t complain until they remembered they were supposed to, then they complained a lot and we drove with me in the back seat behind and open window. This mostly spread the smell around the interior of the van, but whatever. It was a tight fit with the five of us, and we drove several hours on various freeways and finally mountain roads before arriving in the very remote Chiba Mountain Village camp. It was used by schools for teaching kids skills like orienteering and outdoor cooking and sleeping in cabins and seeing nature. Meh. I knew about this already. I slapped a mosquito. I noticed as we were getting out of the van that the popular kids from my class, that gave me so much irritation with the tennis courts a month ago, were here. The girls were staring at me in my spandex and drooling a bit. I glared back, but with my goggles on they couldn’t see my expression. Sigh.

“Hikkitani got ripped, dude,” complained one of the jock bros. Bicycling 140 km every three days will do that. I was also eating a careful diet with nutrition appropriate to my exercise days, with proper carb loading and lots of protein to build muscles and enough vitamins to prevent illness from the hard exercise. I am young enough to get away with this, but I wonder how long I can avoid a repetitive stress injury. I grabbed my overnight bag from Komachi and headed for the showers. I needed it. Passing by the popular girls the fujoshi forgot to make a rude comment and merely breathed deeply. Drills couldn’t take her eyes of me. Sigh. Is it still sexual harassment when women do it? I want a shower.

I eventually found the back side of the bathroom building had another entrance to mixed showers. I slid the block to indicate it was occupied by MALES and stripped down, showering myself and then rinsing my spandex clean. It would dry off in a few hours at this altitude. The clothes my sister had picked weren’t terrible, though the bikini briefs looked like something I was meant to wear to show off to a girlfriend. I sighed, but it was all I had. I took my bag and wet clothes and stepped out, looking for direction to the men’s cabin. I had been here before, so I knew they’d segregate our sleeping.

The girlish boy from our class was here and showed me the place. I wish he’d stop with the cutesy behavior. It is kinda creepy. I briefly wondered at his home life, then forgot about it. This is not my problem. I found a clothes line off the back of the cabin and a box of pins under the sink, so secured my clothes to dry and went to find my sensei and see what the big emergency is all about. I found her smoking near the river.

“See anything odd?” she asked me, gesturing to a group of elementary students. There were three girls nattering to each other, and one sitting alone, glaring at them.

“Yep. And you can’t make headway with one girl?” I questioned her.

“She doesn’t want to make up with her friends,” she complained.

“Huh. And you’re an educator? Isn’t it obvious?” I deadpanned back. I sighed, walking away from sensei and plopped down beside the girl.

“What are you supposed to be?” snarked the girl.

“A lone wolf. I was biking out by the coast when I was kidnapped to talk to you. Any idea why?” I asked her frankly. She looked me up and down and didn’t dismiss my claims out of hand.

“They want me to play nice with those bitches,” she said.

“Why?” I asked her.

“They think we’re friends. As if.”

“There’s two ways to be when you’re the smartest one in the room. You can pretend to be dumb like everyone else, or you can stand apart and be your own self.”

“Are you claiming to be the smartest in your school?” she replied, more disbelieving now.

“Smartest boy. Second overall,” I denied her.

“Whoop de doo. Second is first of the losers,” she insulted. I grinned.

“Know the best thing about elementary school? When you go to middle school you get new friends. You won’t see these bitches again, probably. Even if you do, they’ll be in different classes. They’ll have new friends and new enemies too. And this happens again when you leave Middle School and go to high school. I don’t have any friends from Middle School anymore. Well, maybe one, sort of, but that’s out of over a hundred kids. That’s one percent. In science that’s less than critical error, so may as well be zero. So these bitches that did you wrong? Forget about them. Do what you want.” She considered this and eventually smiled.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“It is polite to introduce yourself before asking another’s name. I’m Hachiman Hikigaya. My sister is that girl over there, Komachi. That girl with the long hair and icy look is the best student, the only one who beat me, this time, named Yukinoshita.”

“I’m Tsurumi Rumi. My mom is the home economics teacher at Soubu,” she said, explaining. That made sense. I wonder why Rumi is so cranky, but she’s a girl and even young ones are a mystery best unsolved.

“I am working my way into becoming a very independent man. I don’t think society has much to offer me. The world is much bigger than Tokyo and the inward thinking of Japan.”

“Is that why you’re all buff?” she asked.

“Some of it. I want to see more of the world, and I can’t afford expensive stuff like a car or even a motorcycle. So I am going to see what I can by bicycle, for now.”

“That’s pretty interesting, high school boy,” Rumi finally said, considering this.

I sat and watched my sister and my club mates play in the river. They looked good in bikinis, and I let this simply wash over and past me and did not grow attached, did not fantasize about what I saw bouncing and shimmering in the summer heat. I am a mountain. I am a lone wolf. I don’t need anyone. I don’t want to be hurt anymore. Wanting is pain, and pain is unworthy. I will grow strong on my own. Rumi sometimes commented, other times just sat and relaxed in the nice summer heat. Eventually my feelings subsided and I regained control of my emotions.

There was an orienteering event with compasses and checkpoints. Near dusk we got ready to cook dinners making curry, of all things, on the outdoor kitchen. Lots of kids cutting vegetables and nobody lost a finger. Amazing how when you don’t helicopter parent, kids are fine. I helped prevent any disasters, though this annoyed me a bit, and ate with the high school table, where they were pretending to be student counselors. Sensei was there as well, clearly wanting a smoke and not able to because it was a school outing. She’d have to find somewhere out of the way, and hopefully down wind. They muttered about plans to scare the kids together and I pointed out that I’d already fixed things with the girl they were worried about and let them be kids instead of meddle. They didn’t like that, but screw them. I’m not interested in the conversations and childish ideas of a bunch of people who would someday work in convenience stores or Bro jobs at some failing business. That’s what you get for ignoring your education when it matters.

I wished I was at home, honestly. My ride today was exhausting, even as it was shortened by a third. Talking to Rumi took 10 minutes. Why did I need a three hour detour and a bad nights sleep to look forward to? Why can’t you people just leave me alone? I resolved to start acquiring a tent and other camping gear and see about overnighting places solo. And turn off my phone so they wouldn’t bother me.

I went to bed early because I was exhausted, and the boys decided to talk to each other about girls, which I ignored and managed to sleep through. That morning I woke up first and found the food boxes were unmolested in the trunk of the unlocked van we’d taken. Small wonder it was crowded. I found coffee and a camp percolator so made some to drink. Sensei arrived from the smell so I poured her the first cup. She perked up a lot after that and I made myself a cup, finally. There was no milk, so I drank it black. Bitter, like life.

I continued planning camping gear and wondered about purchase costs and weight. My bicycle was really setup for road riding, not carrying lots of stuff. I could try it, but if this didn’t work out I’d need a motorcycle after all. Bicycling was great exercise. Sensei lit up a cigarette upwind from me. I gave her a look and she moved her chair downwind.

“How did the evening activities go?” I asked her. They were going to scare the kids with a trial of courage walk, but I wasn’t up for it.

“Meh. Just the usual children shrieks. No injuries.”

“That’s good. I can’t imagine the principal would be happy if we’d bullied some elementary schoolers trying to get them to be nice to a kid who didn’t go along with their games,” I pointed out. She winced.

“Yeah, I had second thoughts about that later. You were probably right,” she admitted.

“Good thing. I expect that kind of complaint might have gotten the supervising teacher fired from their job, maybe lose their pension.” She winced at this scenario, seeing it clearly. She drew on the cigarette with shaky hands and sipped her coffee.

“She’s my coworker’s kid. I had to do something, ya know?” she pleaded.

“Well, I talked to her like you wanted. It might not get her to “make up” with those bitches, but she feels better about her choice at least. I think that’s more important. You really push the “get along” theme, don’t you? Women don’t choose the get-along guy. They pick the man who stands apart and doesn’t need anyone. Don’t you think you’re teaching the wrong things in school?” I questioned her. She looks disturbed about this, probably remembering her own dating history and sighing in dismay.

“I… we could stand to change our emphasis as educators,” she admitted finally.

“More coffee?” I offered her. She accepted the lukewarm leftover to top up her cup. I sipped my own, enjoying the bitterness. Yep, coffee on a mountain is like life.

I do wish they’d left me at home though. I had plans to ride down the peninsula to Tateyama today. That was scrapped. I was missing the festival.

We finished up the morning by cooking breakfast with the kids and another activity drawing native plants before packing up our overnight bags and food and various supplies and driving all the way back to Chiba City. Sensei was kind enough to drop Komachi and I home so I was able to fix my bicycle and store it properly. The roof of her rental van was, predictably, scratched. She shrugged and left. It was at this point I realized I’d left my spandex behind the cabin in the mountains. Damn it all.