Chapter 9 | The Seven Little Elves

We savored somen noodles, split a juicy watermelon, and swapped a test of courage for a chilling horror game. The manual shaved ice machine we bought became our summer ritual, each of us taking turns grinding the ice while the window stood open, letting the cicadas’ hum fill the room as we ate.

When no events were planned, we sank into glorious laziness, letting the days of Obon slip by in a haze of idle comfort. Honestly, it was bliss.

But Obon ended, and the grind of school supplementary classes and cram school loomed once more. My steps toward school that first morning after the break felt like dragging lead.

“Amazing, Negoro-kun! I knew you had it in you!” Kumada-sensei’s light clap echoed as she accepted the worksheets I handed over with both hands—Makura’s work from the break. “Studying’s your thing, isn’t it?”

“Not exactly…” I mumbled.

Kumada-sensei flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning the neatly completed assignments. “It’s only partway done. Planning to submit the rest soon?”

“Hopefully… depends on Makura’s mood.” Lately, we’d built something like a friendly rapport. The day we’d finish the remaining worksheets didn’t feel too far off. Or so I thought.

“I see…” Kumada-sensei’s expression darkened, her tone pensive.

I frowned, puzzled. …What’s wrong?

Noticing my confusion, she continued, “This was decided a while ago, but I was negotiating for students who struggle… The supplementary classes end this weekend, but on the last Monday of August, all attendees must take a comprehension test.”

“A test?”

“Yes. It’s straightforward, like the supplementary problems, but it’s formal. No home testing allowed. Even students who find school difficult must take it in the infirmary at minimum. If you don’t… no matter how many assignments you submit, advancing to the next grade will be tough.”

Her words hit like a shockwave. ‘Comprehension test.’ ‘Advancing is difficult.’ They echoed in my head, relentless.

A strange unease settled in me, particularly over Kumada-sensei’s phrasing—kids who find it hard to come to school. Not kids who refuse to come, but find it hard. The distinction gnawed at me.

To me, Makura was just a classmate wallowing in her room’s chaos, thriving in her unhealthy but spirited depravity. Her future seemed brighter than mine, reveling in her carefree existence. But could there be more? A legitimate reason she found school so hard? Kumada-sensei’s negotiations suggested she was considering Makura’s situation with care.

…I don’t know.

We’d spent weeks together, yet I realized I knew so little about her. There had to be a reason for her absence, something she wouldn’t brush off with a laugh in front of others.

After a moment’s thought, I spoke. “…I’ll tell her.”

That’s what I told Kumada-sensei. I wasn’t sure what I wanted—to drag Makura to school or let her live freely in the way she loved. But I’d been tasked with running errands to her place, and we’d spent this summer as partners in indolence, teacher and student of depravity. It had to be me who told her.

“…Alright. That helps.” Kumada-sensei nodded quietly, her eyes steady on mine. “I’m counting on you, Negoro-kun.”

＊

“Fine… Since we’ve started the assignments, I’ll take it. The test.”

If only Makura had agreed that easily.

When I reached her place to deliver today’s assignments, I relayed Kumada-sensei’s explanation about the test. Her reaction was as predictable as ever.

“Damn it! I’m never bowing to this system!” Makura puffed out her cheeks and turned away with a huff.

“But if you don’t pass that test, it won’t count as completing the supplementary classes. You won’t be able to advance…”

It was sudden, but that was the rule for our school’s summer classes—a safety net for those short on credits. Kumada-sensei had even negotiated testing options for us before breaking the news.

“I wish tests would just vanish from this world…” Makura muttered, her brow furrowed in frustration.

“That’s like wishing for world peace.”

“What should I do…” she grumbled, her expression unusually serious.

“Bow to the system or defy it, I suppose.”

She looked up sharply. “Defy… like a one-on-one with the principal?”

“That’s a fast track to expulsion.”

Makura let out a “Hahaha,” then fell back into a thoughtful “Hmm.” She still had room for jokes, at least.

From her perspective, school was something she didn’t want—or maybe couldn’t—face. Yet, failing to advance clearly bothered her. Surprisingly, she cared about keeping up appearances in that way.

The question from my talk with Kumada-sensei resurfaced. Did she not want to go, or was she unable to?

Makura clapped her hands together. “Got it! I just need a grand justification!”

I tilted my head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If I can earn money myself, that’s it. If I have a job, I can’t go to school. If I’m independent, no one can complain.”

“…Well, sure. but how do you earn money?”

“That’s…” Makura hesitated, then grinned. “That’s up to you, brainy Manamichi-kun.”

“You’re passing the buck!?”

I thought for a bit, but the only quick way to earn money that came to mind was a part-time job.

“Anything works. If I can earn even a little, I’ll manage the rest. I’ll just dial down my happiness threshold.”

Makura pointed her index finger skyward, her voice brimming with conviction. “Having food to eat every day, sleeping in a room with a roof, living in Japan with its four seasons, watching the same setting sun as always—that’s enough to be happy. If you find joy in the little things, you can keep going. I don’t need more than that.”

Her smile widened as she spread her arms, preaching like the charismatic leader of some Fallen Cult. “The room could be smaller, and one pair of pajamas would do. With an internet connection, I’d never be bored. A fulfilled life! Modern times are so livable, aren’t they?”

Honestly, she might pull it off—living in a tiny room, ordering just enough food online, scraping by day to day. “That kind of life doesn’t sound half bad…”

“Hahaha, right, right?” Makura’s laugh was infectious.

A life detached from the mundane world, shut away in cozy isolation. Imagining it felt oddly comforting, like wrapping up in a warm blanket. But even that required some minimum funds.

Wasn’t there something? Some way I could help?

I racked my brain, but no brilliant ideas surfaced. She’d said my future was secure, but… if I couldn’t come up with something in a pinch like this, what was the point of all my studying…?

While I stayed silent, Makura’s eyes flickered toward my face. “W-Well, how about we play a game for now?” she said awkwardly, trying to shift the mood.

Game—

That’s when it clicked. “What about video streaming?”

“Eh?”

“As a way to earn money. You mentioned game streaming before.”

“Ohh, streaming…” Makura’s voice trailed off, thoughtful.

“Yeah. You know way more about it than I do. I could research the methods, how to start, what equipment you’d need, and how to monetize it.”

The more I spoke, the more it felt like the perfect plan. “Like when you showed me before, streaming the game and yourself—someone like you could probably draw tons of viewers. You’re… cute, after all. Plus, doing it in pajamas could make you relatable, a unique gimmick.”

She couldn’t leave her room anyway, so our options were limited. Combining her hobbies, this seemed ideal.

“…Streaming might be tough,” Makura murmured.

I let out a dumb, “Eh…?”

“How so?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know what to talk about.”

“Just be yourself. Like when you show me games—your energy’s fun to watch.”

“Really…?” She hesitated. “But—”

“If you earn money this way, it’s your grand justification, right? You don’t have to go outside, and you can keep living your decadent days.”

I noticed her reluctance, the way she muttered, “But… that’s…” Yet I couldn’t grasp why. To me, this felt like a ray of hope.

“Doing it online is kinda tough. Sorry, even though you thought it through.”

Her refusal landed softly, but it stung. My chest throbbed sharply. Sorry, even though you thought it through… Her apologetic tone echoed in my ears.

“…Why?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking. “Why not? It’s got so much potential.”

I could never pull off game streaming. I wasn’t entertaining, and I didn’t have the looks to draw viewers. Compared to me, who’d only ever studied and had nothing to show for it, Makura seemed brimming with potential.

“…I have my reasons,” she said, eyes downcast, her breath trembling slightly.

Silence blanketed the room.

“Sorry, Manamichi-kun. This vibe… even an air purifier can’t fix it. Let’s call it a day, yeah?”

She was right, and it was such a Makura-like, considerate line.

“Yeah… Make sure to air the place out.”

She gave a small smile and nodded. “Yeah.”

Grabbing my still-unopened bag, I left her room.

☆

The door closed with a clank.

I sank to the floor, knees up like in gym class, and buried my face in them. —Ugh, I’m sorry, I messed up…

Panic clawed at me. While dodging Manamichi-kun’s words vaguely, my mind raced, wondering what to do. My clenched palms were slick with sweat before I noticed.

I knew he was thinking of all this for my sake, but I was too overwhelmed… I hoped I hadn’t said anything too harsh.

Even after all this time, I hadn’t gotten over back then. It was all my fault…

I wanted to clear the awkward air with him, but today it felt impossible, so I chose to say goodbye for now. Regret was already creeping in. What if this ended everything…?

My chest tightened painfully at the thought. Sniffling once, I stood slowly and opened the balcony window.

＊

After leaving Makura’s place, I wandered toward cram school, trapped in a loop of the same thoughts. But I didn’t feel like entering the study room and just stood outside the building.

Spending time with Makura—or anyone—this was my first time wading through such an awkward atmosphere. And I still didn’t understand why.

What went wrong? Was it my lack of communication skills?

I mulled it over vaguely. The cram school was near the station, close to the bustling downtown. I’d never noticed before, but at dusk, the area overflowed with people.

Looking around, the city’s clamor flooded my ears again. Amid the noise, a familiar voice cut through.

“Yo, isn’t that the kid? What’s with the glum face?”

Yako-san approached from the path I’d just taken, waving lightly. She wore slim denim pants and a flowy black shirt—a casual style I’d never seen on her.

“Yako-san……”

“Whoa, what’s that face? Did Koiro dump you or something?”

“What’s that supposed to mean…?”

“Eh, for real!?”

“Hold on, I didn’t say yes!”

“Your vibe and mopey aura were screaming it! So, were you dumped?”

Mopey aura… How did I even look to others? I definitely wasn’t in the mood for fake cheer.

“It’s not like that. We’re not even in that kind of relationship.”

“But you’re not denying it’s about Koiro.”

Yako-san sighed, shrugging lightly, her eyes scanning the surroundings. “Alright, let’s sit for a bit.”

“Eh?”

“I’ll hear you out, kid.”

I shook my head, caught off guard. “No, no, it’s fine. Weren’t you heading somewhere?”

“Just stopping by a client’s bar for a drink. I’ve got time.”

She’d mentioned working in restaurant job ads, hadn’t she? Probably headed to one of her clients. Past the station, it was all bars and eateries.

“Can’t leave a kid looking like that—especially if it’s trouble with Koiro.”

With that, Yako-san grabbed my arm and started walking toward the station rotary. Resistance felt futile, and I lacked the energy to try.

Besides… Yako-san knew more about Makura than I did. Maybe talking to her could shed some light.

With that thought, I let her pull me along.

We settled side by side on a concrete planter at the rotary. “Go on, spill it,” Yako-san said, her tone light but not teasing, her gaze steady.

“……Alright.”

I spoke quietly, choosing my words with care. The supplementary assignments. The upcoming test. Makura’s reluctance. The awkwardness after suggesting an alternative.

Yako-san faced the station entrance, nodding occasionally with an “Uh-huh, uh-huh.” When I paused, she let out a long, “Ahh…”

“You’re really naive, aren’t you?”

The same words she’d said the first day we met.

“…In a good way?”

“Nah, this time it’s kinda in a bad way.”

She chuckled softly, but her face held no smile. Then, muttering to herself, she stared into space. “Ugh, can I say this? I wasn’t told not to, but… It’s for Koiro’s sake too. Though she might not want me to… Oh, screw it, I’m doing it.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

Yako-san pressed her lips together, giving me a complicated look. “I think Koiro’s been having fun with you. Her face has been brighter lately. I really want to avoid anything driving you two apart—for her sake.”

“…Yeah.”

“So, I’m giving you a hint. If Koiro gets mad at me later, I’ll take it. …Alright, here goes.”

Nodding as if resolving herself, Yako-san pulled her smartphone from a small leather shoulder bag. She tapped the screen swiftly and handed it to me. I looked down.

“…‘The Seven Little Elves’? Nickname ‘Shichikobi’? The legendary center who suddenly vanished…”

An article about an idol group. The Seven Little Elves… the name rang a faint bell. Its center had abruptly retired. Reading further, a photo confirmed my suspicion.

“…Is this her?”

“Yup, that’s the girl you know well.”

At the center was Kamakura Koyuna—Makura Koiro. Her hair was red, unlike now, and her expression and outfit felt unfamiliar, but it was unmistakably her.

“An idol?”

“Former, yeah. Not just any—she was the center of a national idol group. She was on TV a lot.”

“…So that’s why I’m naive.”

I finally grasped what Yako-san meant. Not recognizing Kamakura Koyuna marked me as clueless. Maybe I was the only one my age who didn’t know her, given I barely watched TV or used social media.

And then it clicked. “Does Makura not wanting to go outside have to do with quitting being an idol…?”

“Well…” Yako-san glanced upward briefly, then spoke, eyes on her hands. “She’s probably got a lot going on inside. I don’t know it all. But I figured this fact’s tied to what’s happening with you two, so I told you. The streaming idea you mentioned—that’s putting herself out there, right?”

She stood with a “Here we go,” stretching her arms high. “Well, good luck, kid.”

With a final smile, she waved and vanished into the downtown bustle.

＊

The Seven Little Elves began as an underground idol group of seven, rising to fame with a mainstream TV debut. Now, members model, act, and appear on variety shows, cementing their status as one of Japan’s top idol groups. Kamakura Koyuna was a cornerstone during their ascent, known among fans as the unshakable center.

After parting with Yako-san, I searched on my phone immediately. Makura, an idol…

I pictured her lounging lazily in her room, then recalled her light dancing, her impressive swing jump, and her claim of being athletic. It all started to make sense.

The photos of Kamakura Koyuna on my phone were undeniably Makura. Yet, seeing her always in pajamas made the polished idol image feel like a dream.

Kamakura Koyuna had shone in dance, acting, and singing. Her fan interactions were the stuff of legend—a radiant smile for anyone, anytime, never betraying exhaustion or displeasure, even after grueling concerts or handshake events. Meet her once, and you’d be captivated, they said.

Her dazzling, sunflower-like smile from the day we met flickered in my mind.

But then, she vanished without a word to her fans. No final performance, no farewell. Her social media went silent, and the group’s official account posted a curt notice, erasing Kamakura Koyuna as if she’d never existed. The Seven Little Elves kept soaring, but nearly two years later, fans still whispered about her disappearance—a dark secret haunting the group’s success.

I closed my eyes, shutting out the flood of information. The story was too vast for my mind to hold.

What happened to Makura…?

She was likely hiding her idol past. Her avoidance of school, her shut-in life—could this be the root? And her sharp aversion to streaming… Had I, without knowing, stumbled onto a landmine…?

My thoughts spun in chaotic loops. But beneath the turmoil, one truth surfaced.

This desperation meant I didn’t want our lifestyle to end.

＊

After a month with Makura, I still didn’t know why she’d chosen this shut-in life. Her idol past was a critical piece, but why she quit remained a mystery.

Should I have asked her directly? We’d grown close, but we were strangers before summer. I couldn’t gauge her trust in me. And today, I’d messed up.

Past midnight, I switched off my room’s lights and opened the window, letting the night breeze wash over me. My ninth-floor apartment had an unobstructed view—no tall buildings blocking the way. Beyond the safety railing, I could make out my school, the station, and the shopping street, all cloaked in darkness. Farther out stood a transmission tower, and I think a reservoir lay nearby.

—Makura’s place was in that direction…

I squinted toward her apartment, where I’d gone nearly every day this summer. The residential area was too dark to pinpoint, probably invisible from here.

After today’s spat, I’d spent hours alone, thinking. Yako-san’s hint had given me a crucial piece, and I turned it over carefully.

Before meeting me, Makura’s life must’ve been a whirlwind of events. Yet, despite whatever burdens she carried, she lived her pajama-clad, shut-in days to the fullest—so vibrantly that I, who’d only known studying, got swept up in her world.

Honestly, I was jealous. To me, Makura sparkled.

If she was in trouble, I wanted to help. I wanted to protect her ideal self, for my sake as much as hers, because I admired her.

Until now, I’d lived passively, never knowing what I wanted—not just this summer, but my whole life. But finally, I’d made up my mind.

I’d spent the night preparing online. Grabbing my phone from the desk, I started typing a message to Makura. We’d exchanged contacts when I went to buy the shaved ice machine.

“Email? You don’t use messaging apps?”

“Nah, I don’t really do those.”

“Seriously, are you even a modern Japanese person?”

That exchange felt nostalgic now.

I typed and deleted, rephrased and hesitated, finally settling on a short, simple line and hitting send.

“Wanna go on a trip tomorrow?”

She was probably still awake. As I thought that, my phone buzzed.

“A trip?”

“Yeah, a trip. To some quiet, rural place where no one knows us, where pajamas are fine. Cool, right?”

“Yeah. Wait, why so sudden?”

I remembered when we began this decadent life together. My fingers moved naturally across the screen.

“We promised to make this summer break the best, didn’t we? Teacher of Depravity.”

Those were her words when she initiated me into her world of indolence.

Skipping supplementary classes to spend time with Makura had been genuinely fun. I’d learned the freedom of turning away from the studies always looming over me. I’d discovered the fulfillment of a summer spent with someone. Last year—no, my whole life—I’d never felt this, and I wanted more.

I gripped my phone tightly. A notification pinged instantly.

“Got it, pupil-kun. Let’s go!”

My stomach churned with excitement, and I couldn’t sit still. At the same time, I felt so light, like I might float away.

That sensation was entirely new to me—