V1C1 Part4

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4. MISCONDUCTTranslation Notes

1. Bon refers to a young man from a well-to-do family

2. These are lyrics from the opening theme for the famous volleyball anime, Attack No.1

3. I know nothing about Attack No.1 so I have no idea what this is referring to. The original line is “ヒロイン訛ってるって”. If you know anything about this, let me know

4. The kanji for Meisei is 銘誠.

銘 from 座右の銘 (means favorite motto) and 誠 is pronounced makoto by itself

5. Meisei-chuu as in Meisei Middle School

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Haijima Kimichika was an idiot. No, his grades overall

weren’t that bad. He was slightly above middling for his third semester finals.

However, Kuroba was dumbfounded when he saw the breakdown of that “slightly

above middling.”

In regards to math and social studies, he was well above the

average, and in fact, he was at the top of the class in his grade. Math,

ninety-five. Social studies, ninety-nine—that was the first time he ever saw

ninety-nine on an exam paper. He was taken aback by the brilliance of the two

9’s next to each other.

But, things didn’t look good from there. Science,

seventy-three. English, sixty. His marks around here were so normal that it

made you wonder what his high marks in math and social studies were.

Apparently, his strong areas were unusually inclined towards calculation and

memorization.

Japanese,

Thirty points.

…They really were unusually inclined.

“Ooh, there’s a whole row of x’s here. What a nice view.”

It was a question about close reading a novel. The answers

to “What are the emotional states of the characters”-type questions were

continuously absurd, and the way the x’s were written was becoming increasingly

desperate, as if to represent his Japanese teacher’s emotional state.

“For the question ‘Please answer in eighty words or less why

you think the king forgives Melos,’ you answered, ‘Melos was naked the cow,’. I can see the signs of

suffering from trying to write a little more, but not being able to write a

sentence and getting frustrated. …Cow?”

“Shut up. You’re always joking about people’s exam answers.”

“Ow ow ow!”

Kuroba groaned as he fell prostrate on the exam papers

spread out between his legs with a weight pressed tightly against his back. The

other club members laughed at the two stretching as a pair.

“You shouldn’t laugh at other people, Yuni. You got

forty-two in math and fifty-five in social studies.”

“Hey, don’t read it aloud. This is an invasion of privacy.”

“Japanese…oh? Eighty-seven. Not bad.”

“For real?”

His back lightened with Haijima’s upset-sounding voice. He

lifted his body with a self-satisfied look that said “Fufufu. Japanese is the

only thing this guy’s good at,” but Haijima, who snatched and returned Kuroba’s

Japanese exam paper, once again pressed down on his back tightly with his

entire upper body while staring at his answers with a slightly displeased look

on his face. Kuroba grumbled “Ow ow ow” while facing the floor in an

open-legged forward bending position.

“Why did you answer the cow question like this? I don’t get

it at all.”

“First, let go of the cow…I think the first issue is that no

cows appear in the story. I’m getting worried about whether or not you can get

into high school.”

He briefly wondered if one could get into school through a

volleyball recommendation, but even if one could, it didn’t matter because

there was no chance of their weak club reaching the point where they could get noticed

in a big tournament. If Haijima was in his previous middle school, recommendations

might come, however—he hadn’t asked Haijima himself, but there was no doubt

that he had been in a fairly strong volleyball club with a decent coach. He had

no idea what a full-scale stretching regimen was until he started practicing

with Haijima. Next, Kuroba laid on his back as Haijima took his legs and

thoroughly stretched them.

I thought that since Haijima would have nothing left if

you took volleyball away from him, it would be his greatest desire to go to a

strong volleyball school, but…

Haijima Kimichika was a volleyball fanatic.

The ban on club activities, which had been suspended a week

before finals, had been lifted, and they held a practice day at once. With

people turning up once they knew it was active, the boys’ volleyball team,

which used to be as good as non-existent, had more or less taken on the

appearance of club activities recently. With just barely six people, they still

haven’t been in a match yet.

It was when they

stood up and stretched their backs after finishing their brief stretching session.

“Kuroba, how tall are you now?”

Haijima said while looking up at his hair whorl.

“Hmm? Didn’t I say I was one-seventy-three?”

“When did you measure that?”

“Um…in fall, I think…November?”

He tamped down his hair whorl, but his bed hair bobbed back

up. He felt depressed when he wondered if he had been exposing this hair to

people all day since morning.

There was a scale on the door frame of the gym equipment

room that could be used to measure height, and was used to compare heights for

fun during club activities and gym class. It was probably the work of students

from decades ago. It was the culmination of very precise work, with each

millimeter being carved out from one-fifty to one-eighty centimeters with a

utility knife.

“One-seventy-five-point-zero.”

Putting an empty powdered drink box to the top of Kuroba’s

head, Haijima read the scale out loud.

“Ooh, I grew two centimeters?”

“My turn.”

They exchanged places and now it was Haijima with his back

to the scale.

“Don’t raise your heels. Um, one-seventy-two-point…seven.”

“Ah. I grew too.”

But, Haijima didn’t seem too happy about it. With a sullen

face, he left the scale and grumbled “Two centimeters off.”

“Two-point-three centimeters off. Don’t round it down.

You’re a setter, so you don’t have to be so worried about your height, right?”

“I have a favorite player. It’s Abe, who was selected for

the national team. He’s a setter, but he’s one-ninety-one. Even for setters,

the bigger you are, the better you block and the faster you set. And, Abe’s

ambidextrous, and he has a good left dump.”

“Huh? That reminds me, do you also…”

Haijima served with his left hand. But which hand did he hit

with outside of those times…he didn’t have a clear impression. He felt like

he recalled him hitting with his left and with his right.

“Use both hands?”

“I do,” He said carelessly, but was that something so easy

to do? “There’s still an eighteen-centimeter difference, huh… But Abe can’t hit

jump serves, so once my height catches up, I’ll be better.”

When it came to the subject of volleyball, Haijima became

more talkative than usual. The way he spoke was basically like cutting short

the front part of the context and throwing away the back end, but he came to be able to speak fairly long lines in a polite manner. He must love it a lot,

he thought in half amazement and half admiration.

“I’m not sure if you have way too much confidence in

yourself or is just an idiot…but I never thought you’d compare yourself to a

member of the national team.”

He forced a smile, and got glared at with resentful eyes. He

got scared, wondering if he said something that made him angry. He still wasn’t

very good at knowing what set Haijima off.

“Kuroba, at the practice game, you see blocks and differentiate

between hitting the ball cross and straight, right?”

“Cross-court and straight…oh, straight is where you hit the

ball right down the middle, and cross is where you twist a little and hit it

outside.”

“It’s the other way around, dumbass.”

He had answered with hand gestures while tilting his head to

the side in confusion, but was completely denied with an insult.

“A cross is a spike that passes through the court at an

angle. A straight is a spike that goes straight and parallel to the sidelines.

When you’re hitting on the front row, you tend to step towards the center in front

of the net a lot, so if you hit it straight on, it becomes a cross, and if you

hit it with the intention to twist it outside, it will be straight.”

“So complicated…”

“It’s not that complicated, but…oh well. I’ll teach you step

by step.”

He thought “Teach me?” every time, but why was he naturally acting like he was above him?

“Even if you don’t understand it with your head, you have

good eyes, so you can deal with blocks. Being able to naturally rotate your

trunk midair, the length of your time in the air, the suppleness of your

shoulders…those are qualities you’ve probably always had. You will get good. It’ll

be in no time if you do it properly. You’ll be taller, too.”

“…? Do you have a fever?”

He stared at Haijima’s face suspiciously and got a

suspicious look in return.

“What. Did I say something weird?”

“No, it’s just that you’re always so self-important, so I

thought you were someone who wouldn’t praise or acknowledge people in that

way.”

“If there’s something to acknowledge, then of course I’m

gonna acknowledge it. But, there’s no way to acknowledge what’s not there.”

Haijima stated, pouting and seeming truly upset.

Haijima never flattered. He wasn’t humble. He couldn’t hold

himself back. Indeed, he might be sincere and straightforward in a sense. …But,

he thought it was probably a tough way to live. Most people didn’t want to be

told the truth right to their faces.

“You will get good.”

Afterwards, slowly but steadily, a ticklish feeling welled

up in the depths of his body. It was uncool to take someone at their word, so

he purposely looked indifferent and said,

“I have a talent for volleyball, huh. It won’t make me all that popular though.”

He feigned ignorance and talked

big. Unlike Haijima, he felt like he had been drifting through life

frivolously, with a bunch of façades lined up in front of him, obscuring

reality.

***

The days have become longer, and the chill had subsided

considerably. It was now often possible to sneak peeks at patches of blue in

the sky which had been covered by depressing snow-laden clouds in midwinter. The

sun had completely set when he nearly ran over Haijima in front of that karaoke

box in February, but by mid-March, there was still some faint light left in the

sky at that same time of day. A rusty copper sunset fringed the ridgelines of

Mount Nokude in the distance.

Since their houses were in the same direction, he ended up

going home with Haijima on days they had club activities. Their enamel bags, slung

over their shoulders, rattled, and they tread on the rugged road in their snow

boots. Although the snow on the road melted during the day and was close to

becoming sherbet, it had begun to freeze again in the shape of punched-through

car ruts and footprints. During the snowfall season from December to March,

elementary and middle school students were prohibited from cycling to school,

so it took forty minutes to get there on foot. There was no doubt that they

would starve before they reached home, so the two stuffed their cheeks with

sweet bread as they walked. Incidentally, he stuffed himself with two pieces of

bread before club and of course he was going to eat dinner when he got home. At

any rate, he was hungry. And at any rate, he was sleepy.

Until one or two months ago, he would have wanted to skip

over middle school and become a high school student as soon as possible, but

come to think of it, he had stopped thinking about that recently. He had no

time to think about superfluous things because after he finished club

activities, went home, ate, and took a bath, he immediately went to bed. He

fell asleep feeling like he was sinking into the floor with his futon, and then

when he woke up, it was next morning.

Finals were over, and now it was time to neglect everything

and go into spring break. And whether he left it alone or made a fuss, once the

break ended, he would become a third-year. The word examinee still didn’t

really strike home for him.

“Haijima, what are you gonna do for high school? Are you

taking it here?”

He finally broached the subject that actually wanted to ask him

about during club, but hesitated over.

“Well, I was thinking of taking it here, but…”

He got stuck on how Haijima trailed off at the end of his

sentence, which was unusual for him.

“But? Is there a condition or something?”

He once again asked Haijima’s profile, which was bulged out

with the bread he stuffed in his mouth. He wasn’t wearing his glasses right

now. Haijima always followed the procedure of putting in contact lenses and

taping his hands before club started. If he taped first, he wouldn’t be able to

handle his contacts. When club activities were finished, he followed that

procedure in reverse, but there were days when he went home as he was, perhaps

because he couldn’t be bothered. From the point of view of Kuroba, whose vision

had never fell below 20/20 and whose fingernails and bones seemed healthy and

strong, he had a difficult constitution.

“More importantly, new first-years will come in April.”

“Hmm? Oh yeah. Skilled guys would get picked up by the other

clubs, so it’s better not to get your hopes up, but maybe we can get one or two

people.” More importantly? He had a feeling he was changing the subject,

but the timing to repeat the question escaped him.

“If we get more members, I wanna go to a tournament. I don’t

know the tournament schedule here, but there should be a prefectural tournament

before the summer inter-school.”

“Tournament, huh. But even if we can be in it, I don’t think

we can win at our level…”

“It’s no fun if you don’t play a game. I wanna be in a

match. I’m gonna train you all to be presentable enough by summer. I’ll take

care of the rest.” Once again, he said that he was gonna train us

without hesitation. Is he treating us like performing monkeys or something?

Ah, there it was. The sparkle in his eyes like that of a dinosaur-loving

elementary schooler. Though he was just being arrogant and saying something

self-centered, when he had that look in his eyes, he couldn’t help but feel

that it was as though it was being secretly switched with something of pure

purpose. Kuroba realized that he couldn’t oppose those eyes at all.

“Ooookay, got it. We need an advisor to be in a tournament

or it’s no good, right? Let’s ask tomorrow.”

When he said that with a sigh, a crude voice called out to

them from the side of the road.

“Hey, isn’t that the head house’s bon walking there?” (1)

It came from in front of the signboard of the aforementioned

“Karaoke Box Monshiro”. Was this the only place to hang out? Well, it probably

was. There were three men. Two 125cc motorbikes and one moped. Each of them was

sitting astride their seats and hanging their butts on their tandem grips,

smoking cigarettes as they tucked their chins inside their collars of their

jackets, looking cold. They had the appearances of what countryside delinquents

should be.

“Oh, Yori-chan!”

Kuroba called out to him with a smile, but Yorimichi only

took a glance at his appearance and looked away.

The other two were Yorimichi’s senpais, both from the

neighborhood. When someone other than his relatives called him the “head

house’s bon”, it was probably filled with ridicule, but since he was

used to it, he didn’t react to it every single time, and Kuroba greeted them in

a friendly manner as well.

“’Sup. It’s been a while. I didn’t know you guys are back.”

“It’s

spring break in uni too. Bon, how much you got today?”

“Oh…I only have some coins. I’ve been doing club activities

lately so there’s a lot of times when I’d be leaving my bag alone.”

“’Club activities’?”

The two repeated it with a rising inflection that contained

laughter.

“Oh, is that what Yorimichi was talking about?”

Smirking, they eyed Kuroba from the top of his head to his

feet. He uncomfortably let his gaze escape to Haijima, who was waiting next to

him. When he looked at Haijima, he could see his own appearance like he was

looking into a mirror, or rather, he was just copying Haijima, but—he was wearing a

knee-length padded coat over his jersey with his rectangular enamel sports bag slung

over his shoulder, and he really did look like he was coming back from a sports

club. In regards to the padded coat, Kuroba saw Haijima’s and also bought one

recently.

“You do receives or something, how did that go again? We

didn’t do it in gym in high school, so I completely forgot.”

The two had mean smiles on their faces, pointing their

chins. Either the smoke of their cigarettes or the whiteness of their breath

from the cold made their stubbled mouths misty.

“Um, it’s like this, I guess…?”

Kuroba had no choice but to drop his hips on the spot and

did the posture for an underhand pass, and the two cackled and applauded.

“Wow,

looking pretty good, aren’t you? I know, it’s that thing, Attack No.1, right?”

“That old manga? It’s that ‘I won’t cry, I’m just a girl’

thing, right?” (2)

“The heroine spoke in dialect. Gyahahaha!” (3)

“Haha…”

When Kuroba forced a smile while feeling his face turning

hot, his bag was suddenly pulled on. The strap was biting into the pit of his

stomach. “Gueh,” he groaned as he turned around.

“Haijima?”

“You’re just getting looked down on. We’re not playing

around. Don’t keep them company.”

Like he was pulling on the leash of a not particularly

disciplined dog, Haijima primly started walking while gripping the strap.

“Okay, okay, don’t pull me. It’s dan…” Right when he twisted his body around

and rushed to follow him,

“You’re hanging out with us, right, Yuni?”

Yorimichi called out to his back.

Haijima turned around, not even trying to hide his

annoyance. Kuroba also followed his gaze while feeling lost. Turning away and

smoking his cigarette, Yorimichi snorted sarcastically.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting’ influenced by Fighting Spirit

Chika-chan, are ya? You’re the one who’s gonna be embarrassed later.”

“Hey…oh,

hey Yori-chan, are you mad at me? Sorry for not hanging out with you lately.

We’ll do stuff together during spring break.”

“Kuroba, we’re practicing during spring break too.”

Haijima’s dissatisfied sounding voice pierced the back of

his ear. “We can’t practice everyday, right?” When he turned around with a

half-smile, his face seemed to say, As a matter of fact, of course we are. “If

we’re going to the summer tournament, we’ll still never make it in time even with that.”

“Are you serious…” He was of course ready to have fun and relax during spring

break, so when he was told to be prepared to completely spend that time on club

activities… I underestimated this guy’s volleyball obsession.

“Yuuuuni. You understand, right? It’s no good for you. It’d

be less embarrassing if you stop playing around. I ain’t patient either, so I

can’t wait too long for you.”

“Hey, even Yori-chan’s being mean? You’re not serious,

right?”

He

looked at Yorimichi again with a twitching smile. “Oh, you’re pretty popular,

Bon. If you pick one, you have to cut off the other. This is a real mess.” The

two university students irresponsibly jeered and aggravated the situation.

“You, you get it, right? I have the same blood in my veins

as you, so we get fired up and cooled off easily. I’ll probably get bored halfway, right?”

He ended up prioritizing putting Yorimichi in a good mood

with a joking tone. A cold sweat ran down the nape of his neck as he felt

Haijima’s burning gaze scorching it.

He

knew that he was playing it safe. He was still afraid now that Yorimichi would

throw him away. He wanted to secure the warm place he could always return to if

things got tough. Don’t put me together with you, he grumbled in his

mind. Haijima, who didn’t have an ounce of doubt about himself doing

volleyball, probably wouldn’t understand, but for us until just now,

guys who went hardcore for club activities were just something to be watched

from a distance and gawked at.

Yorimichi bared his teeth and grinned.

“Haha, that’s right. You’re the same as me.”

Relieved, Kuroba also slackened his cheeks.

And, the heat wave of Haijima’s gaze that was burning the

back of his neck also abruptly disappeared. The strap was released to send him

flying.

“Then quit now.”

Haijima said it bluntly in a cold voice, a complete reversal

from the heat of earlier.

“Hey, no need to go that far…”

“I don’t want to the tournament to get messed up.”

“Messed up…”

He

immediately guessed that he was talking about scandals that would result in a

suspension. Kuroba himself didn’t smoke or drink, but he overlooked Yorimichi

doing it. It wasn’t illegal to ride double on a bike, but having only one

helmet was probably not allowed. It wasn’t a good look to sneak into karaoke

bars either. He didn’t really care about it until now, but it was somewhat

understandable that school sports were sensitive to those kinds of issues.

Haijima’s concern was reasonable, and perhaps this was where

he should be sorry. But on the contrary, antagonism reared its head. So, from

the beginning, he wasn’t worried about whether or not Kuroba would continue to

do volleyball or not, but about that?

“You showed your true colors, eh!”

Yorimichi’s loud voice suddenly rang out. Haijima glared

suspiciously at him and Kuroba was also confused. Peeling his lips back in a

vicious grin that made him draw back a little, Yorimichi continued to speak in

a theatrical way.

“The infamous ‘Genius Setter’ of Meisei Middle School only

thinks about satisfying his own desires, right?”

“Yori-chan? What are you talking about?”

“You were the one who wanted to know, Yuni. You asked why he

came back here. That’s why I investigated.”

Haijima’s sharp gaze immediately moved to Kuroba. He did

voice his doubts, but he thought the conversation ended there, so to think that

Yorimichi would investigate it…

“Oops, you’re barking up the wrong tree if you’re blaming

Yuni. It’s that ‘you reap what you sow’ kind of thing, right?”

Yorimichi

came down from his bike and stepped on his cigarette to put it out. He thrust

his hands into the pockets of his down jacket and approached him with bowlegs

and swinging shoulders, looking particularly vulgar. “Move, Yuni,” he said,

pushing Kuroba aside and standing before Haijima.

“I could have easily gotten the name of your school from

your grandpa through mine. Well, I used Itoko though, since I’ve been given up

on by Gramps. So when I quickly searched the net…oh look, there’s slander of

the ‘Genius Setter’ who reigned over Meisei Middle until last year. The net

sure is terrifyin’. Everything’s on there. Well, I guess it means you’re not

liked very much.”

The more Yorimichi talked, the stiffer Haijima’s expression

became. The color disappeared from Haijima’s face that seemed to embody the

world’s arrogance and fearlessness, and his gaze dropped downwards. The shadow

of Yorimichi, who was a size bigger in height and width, hung over the head of

Haijima, who was looking down and biting his lower lip. “Oi oi, look at the

poor guy, Yorimichi. Don’t bully middle schoolers. You’ll make him cry.” The

two university students saying insincere things were completely taking the role

of spectators.

“Yuni.”

“Huh? Y-yeah.”

Kuroba reflexively responded, unable to catch up with the

conversation very well. Yorimichi’s face changed from that of someone

tormenting a dying animal, and when he turned around, he was no longer smiling.

It was an extremely serious expression.

“I don’t

have anything against Chika, but I don’t really care. I think it’s petty to

talk about other people behind their backs online. It’s all for you. Don’t get

too absorbed in it. After all there was apparently someone who attempted suicide because of this guy——”

An instant later, Haijima barked something that couldn’t be

expressed in words and grabbed Yorimichi. “Oh?” Although Yorimichi staggered a

little, their physiques and amount of fight experiences were different. He

grabbed Haijima’s face and thrust it aside, just like he was grabbing a ball—a

dodgeball instead of a volleyball—with one hand and throwing it violently. Haijima

was lightly blown off two or three meters away, the side of his face crashing

into the muddy snow-covered road.

Because it was the first time he heard Haijima’s enraged

voice, Kuroba was temporarily distracted by that. He hurriedly broke into

Yorimichi’s path.

“Yo-Yori-chan, stop! Violence is no good!”

“He was the one who charged at me. Ah, it’d be no good for a

sports boy to be violent, right? Didn’t you say that yourself? I’m being kind

by ending it with just knocking him down.”

Yorimichi threw mocking jeers at Haijima over Kuroba’s

shoulder. Kuroba turned around and ran up to Haijima, who was crouching and

holding his hand to his face. “Oi, you’re alive…” he knelt down and was about

to touch his shoulder, but what Yorimichi said flashed across his mind and he

stopped his hand.

…Attempted suicide…?

“Let’s

go back. My ass is frozen.”

Urging the two university students, Yorimichi returned to

his bike.

“Yuni, get over here.”

Summoned, Kuroba looked up at the chin of Yorimichi, who was

sitting astride his bike, but hesitated and returned his gaze to Haijima. His

earlobe, which was poking out from the gaps between his hair, were terrifyingly

white. No way, is he actually dead? He thought, but he saw a fist

clenching the snow underneath his face pressed against the ground. Mud soaked

into his white taping and stained it brown.

He couldn’t leave him here and go home.

“Even if you say go home, you won’t let me ride double

anyways. I’ll send him home, okay?”

“Well, whatever.”

Yorimichi backed down easily with just a shrug of his

shoulders. The sneering had already disappeared and he returned to his normal

self.

“Don’t forget. Wash your hands of him as soon as possible.

From his reaction, it doesn’t seem like those are groundless rumors. Be careful

on your way home. I’m talking about the snowy roads and your teammate next to

you.”

Perhaps

Yorimichi also felt that he went a bit too far. He awkwardly turned his face

away, made his engine roar its usual crude and vulgar sounds, and departed on

the Komashi-gou.

***

“Mei from zayuu no mei and makoto,

Meisei. (4) It’s called Meisei Private Academy Middle School. It’s a middle and

high school in one, and their sports clubs are pretty strong. Apparently the

distribution map of famous private schools is common knowledge among Kanto

kids. You can’t really experience it here, can you? There aren’t enough schools

to choose from. Hey, everyone’s gonna hang out in the city after the end-of

term ceremony, so do you wanna come with us? I wonder if Haijima would come if

we invited him. You guys have been getting along well lately.”

“Um, oh, yeah. If that’s all I can ask then I’m good for

now. Thanks.”

He hung up first because it seemed like the conversation

would never end if he left it alone.

Itoko said “Everyone”, so the group probably included girls.

To tell the truth, he was really jealous of this merry spring break-like event.

Normally he wouldn’t be able to refuse. But, it was only today that he couldn’t

get into the mood at all. He was willing to bet that Haijima would never come

either.

He put the phone handset next to the desk and turned towards

the computer again. Since he had an agreement to not own a cell phone until

high school, the only place he could access the Internet at home was the laptop

in his dad’s study. When he tried to convert Meisei-chuu (5), he realized

he didn’t know the kanji for it, and since Yorimichi said he learned it by way

of Itoko, he called to ask her directly. Based on the current feeling,

Yorimichi had really only gotten the school name, and it seemed he didn’t tell

Itoko more than that. He felt relieved about that.

A school

with a strong athletic department. If this school was that famous, then it

might not be strange for there to be a rumor or two to float around the

Internet. After all, there was even a message board titled “[Monshiro Town] Old

Man Kuroba [Yokai]”—Yorimichi thought it was hilarious and told him about it,

but Kuroba never searched for it because he was scared of learning the

contents.

“Tokyo meisei academy middle school boys volleyball club

attempted suicide”

He entered the search words, and just when he was about to

click the search button, his finger stopped. He couldn’t easily press the key. Of

course he was unbearably curious. But, he was afraid to find out the contents

for that more than Grandpa’s message board.

“Yuni? Where are you?”

His mother’s voice came from somewhere on the other side of

the sliding screen door. He twisted himself around on the tatami chair and

raised his voice.

“In here! The study!”

“Why are you there? Aren’t you going to take a bath?”

“Okay!”

After

thinking about it a little bit, he ended up pressing the backspace key to

delete everything he typed in. Once he did so, he completely gave up, closed

the computer and stood up.

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