The Coward’s Dilemma

The days had peacefully passed in a comfortable, stable rhythm, which was a good thing. No bad situations had arisen, the city was brimming with life, and Satoru could proudly say that he had gotten to know most of the areas well enough to feel as if he had lived in this town for more than just a few weeks.

But this stability was, in some ways, worrying. Before the Japanese teen had noticed, there were only two and a half weeks left of his stay. That was all the time he had left to spend with Silke.

After that...

Actually... What would happen once he returned to Japan?

Would they stay in contact?

Would they even have any topics to talk about other than their favorite game?

Or what if she just... forgot about him? Kimura Satoru would become just that one person from her summer adventure before the start of college. She would find herself a cool boyfriend—someone she could actually have deeper conversations with—and all he would turn into was a fun fact she told at parties about how she once lived with that one Japanese guy.

It didn’t sit right with Satoru, but was there any way to prevent this from happening?

As smart as he could be, when it came to social interactions and everything surrounding them, the boy felt at a loss. He wished he was more like Miho in this regard—free, uncaring, going with the flow. That was how she had ended up all the way here, in Germany, while he, someone so enthralled by the idea of traveling, had chained himself to good old Tokyo, only gathering the courage to start his own adventure after his sister built up that safety net abroad.

Being home alone wasn’t helping him either. Both Silke and Miho had gone out to party—each to a different place, from what he understood—but neither had planned to come back tonight, leaving him with nothing but his overthinking as a companion.

The situation did not look good.

Especially since Satoru was aware that, somewhere along his stay, his feelings had become impossible to contain. He knew that what he felt for Silke was more than just platonic.

His original plan of “being friendly is more than enough” was no longer satisfying. A good friend would support her if she pursued another guy romantically; they wouldn’t walk away from a café at the simple sight of her being on good terms with another guy.

That was something a coward would do.

Kimura Satoru was a coward who had slowly come to realize that his feelings for Silke were growing stronger with each passing day. He couldn’t really blame himself. She was pretty, kind, and loved the same game he did. It was unfair how perfectly she matched his type.

But the question was: was he her type? Would Silke even consider him as a boyfriend?

He didn’t know. And even if he somehow found the guts to ask her, he wasn’t sure if a mistranslation would cause yet another misunderstanding.

The damned language barrier.

Miho was his only chance to obtain some insight, but the problem was that she was his sister—she would never let him hear the end of it, and the existing amount of teasing would double. Plus, there was no guarantee she would even tell him what the German girl said.

The girl code or something probably applied to that, too...

Desperate to organize his thoughts, Satoru started writing down the advantages and disadvantages of his current situation.

It was kind of embarrassing, but he couldn’t come up with anything better for now.

Starting with the good sides: he knew Silke liked him, she enjoyed spending time with him, and she had even invited him over to eat ice cream together. She was also quite eager to help him learn more about both the culture and language of her homeland. They shared a love for games—apparently, Rainbow Sun wasn’t the only title their game libraries had in common. He was also quite smart, at least when it came to school tests, and he was good at cooking. Though, it was hard to tell if Silke liked his meals. He still felt down that she hadn’t left a single comment after the dinner he had prepared with such care.

On the other hand, Satoru was aware that Silke had far more attractive male friends. Compared to them, he was shorter, less muscular, and just looked like a nerd who didn’t interact with people much. He was also a year younger, which meant that, in her eyes, he might seem like a little kid. He probably wouldn’t care so much if he had at least a bit more confidence, but that was part of his problem—he couldn’t believe in himself.

And the fact that he couldn’t have natural, flowing conversations with Silke because of the lack of a common language didn’t help his case at all.

There were so many things he wanted to know about her—like when she had started playing video games, what her dream pet was, or if she could move to another country, which one she would choose.

He hoped the answer would be Japan.

“Aaah, I’m beat!”

Out of nowhere, a loud door-slamming noise echoed through the apartment, followed by tired groans.

“Miho!?”

“‘Sup, lil' broski? Not your sleepy time yet?” she slurred, each word interrupted by a hiccup, as if it was a necessary comma.

She was so drunk.

“How are you the surprised one here? Weren’t you planning on coming back tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” she dumbly repeated after her younger brother. “Oh, yeah! But then I, uh... There was a guy, a cool guy, yanno? And for a moment I thought, ‘Damn, I so would,’ but we talked and talked and...” She looked like she was about to drift off while struggling not to spill water as she poured it into a cup.

“And?” Satoru prompted.

“What was I... Oh, ye! And he was kinda cute, so I thought, ‘This one’s nice, might be worth something more than just one night,’ yanno? So I left him my numbah. If he calls me, Imma try and make it work.”

“Well, if he really is nice, then I hope he calls you.”

“Awh, aren’t you a cute, supportive little bro?”

She plopped down onto the couch and started snuggling him.

Ugh. She reeked of beer.

Then Satoru realized something.

If Miho was drunk, there was a high chance she wouldn’t remember what they talked about tonight. Maybe she would actually be able to give him some insight—as much as he could trust her judgment in her current state. Some say drunk people are the most honest, after all.

“Hey,” he started shyly, “do you think I’d be a good boyfriend? Considering I’m not, you know, your K-pop idol type?”

“Oya? Where’d that question come from, you weirdo~?”

Good. She didn’t start teasing. And without him having to push her further, she actually continued on her own.

“Listen here, buddy. Girls now wanna have a kind guy, a funny one—maybe even a nerdy one. They feel safer ‘bout their relationship when their partner isn’t some kind of macho man with a testosterone overflow, yanno? That’s passe.”

That was... somehow reassuring.

“‘Sides, little Silke seems ta like ya the way ya are. Trust me, gurl wouldn’t be that motivated to walk you ‘round the city now and then. Dunno if she likes-likes ya, but ya gotta believe in urself more!”

Then she suddenly shot up and said, “I think I’m gonna barf!” before running off to the bathroom.

The noises coming from there weren’t pleasant at all.

Satoru didn’t know if Miho had already figured out where his question had come from when she mentioned Silke out of nowhere, but he was immensely grateful for her words—even when she slurred them like a sailor.

That didn’t change the fact that he still hoped she wouldn’t remember much of this conversation in the morning.