I Accidentally Triggered The Sociophobic Bookworm Route! (Part 2)

“Hey, doofus, what’s with the smirk?” Shinomiya calls from across the student council room.

I don’t even look back.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Nobody should be having that much fun doing paperwork. It’s more than a little suspicious.”

“How do you know I’m not just a happy person?”

“Funny—the dark circles under your eyes and endless whining never gave me that impression.”

I flick my hand in her direction, shooing her away, continuing with my work.

“...You sure it’s nothing?”

I jolt in my seat.

Shinomiya’s suddenly right behind me—leaning in close, speaking softly by my ear as her hands settle on my shoulders, kneading them with a mischievous grin.

“Come on, don’t you want to tell me? Keeping secrets isn’t good for your health, you know. The more you deny it, the more curious I get. I’ll find out eventually—might as well fess up now and save yourself the trouble.”

“What do you care what I’m up to?”

“I can’t take an interest in the lives of my dear colleagues?”

“So you really find it that hard to believe I could just be having a good day for once?”

“It wouldn’t happen to have something to do with Yuki, would it?”

“Why? You wouldn’t happen to be jealous, would yo—ARGH!”

Her grip tightens.

She’s now digging into my shoulders full force.

“Aw, it seems our little Ubakawa is suffering from delusions. Poor thing.”

“I—I—”

Shinomiya flashes a devilish smile.

“All you have to do is tell me, and the pain goes right away.”

…

…

…

“Uh…Ubakawa?”

…

“I’m sorry, I’ve been feeling so stiff lately—that actually feels amazing.”

I say looking away from Shinomiya with a hand over my mouth, trying to hide the big stupid grin on my face as all the tension melts out of my shoulders.

Shinomiya freezes, clearly thrown off by the fact that I’m…not reacting the way she’s accustomed to…

…but, slowly, she resumes—working deeper this time, moving from my shoulders to my neck, then down my arms.

“W-well—I am a woman of many talents.”

“Ohh hell yeah you are,” I slump back, not even trying to hide my smile anymore.

“I—ahem, well, I do suppose when the stick doesn’t work, one must try the carrot.”

“Does this feel good enough for you to tell me what I want to know?”

She presses into my upper back.

“Oh Shinomiya, whatever you want!”

“...Should we even be in the room for this?” Ichino asks, voicing everybody else’s discomfort.

Most of the student council members try to focus on their work, but struggle to ignore the clown show unfolding in the middle of the room.

Screw ‘em. It’s their fault I’ve been so stressed. I needed this. I deserve this.

“W-well, i-it’s nice to see you so c-cooperative for once.”

I can hear Shinomiya struggling to hide her embarrassment—clearly not expecting that this would turn into a full-blown deep tissue massage, but far too prideful to back down now.

I reach for her hands, trying to figure out what she’s doing so I can replicate it later.

“Oh Shinomiya, how are your hands so magi—”

Shinomiya lets out a startled moan the moment I touch her hands.

Everybody in the room turns—myself included—flabbergasted that such a feminine voice just came out of Shinomiya.

Her face goes bright red. She stares at me, momentarily at a loss for words, before clumsily forcing out the best recovery she can manage under pressure.

“You don’t grab a girl’s hands out of nowhere like that, Ubakawa!” she snaps, her voice pitching far higher than the calm, low tone she usually carries.

I freeze for a second, a delayed wave of embarrassment washing over me.

…That voice really isn’t fair.

Shinomiya storms out of the room, one hand clamped over her mouth.

Haruki and Yuka enter the room just as she’s exiting, both finishing up the last of their lunch—Haruki with curry bread, Yuka with melon bread.

“Oh, hey, Shinomiya—what’s—”

No response.

“Was I just ignored…again?”

Haruki throws his hands up, mouth hanging open in disbelief.

I guess when your baseline is a girl fawning over you nonstop, her ignoring you might as well be a slap in the face. I probably wouldn’t be thrilled either if that happened to me twice within the span of a few days.

Apparently unaware sinks exist; Haruki and Yuka wipe their crumb covered hands on their clothes before stepping forward to turn in their papers.

Haruki shakes his head, wearing what might be the first genuinely irritated expression I’ve seen on his face in years.

…What in the actual hell is happening today?

What’s next? Is Yuka gonna start snacking on vegetables instead of sweets?

I pause for a moment, trying to collect myself.

“It’s not you Haruki—she just, uh…I don’t even know how to explain it, I think you really had to be here. I have witnesses who can back me up."

“I believe we just witnessed what the youth refer to as ‘Gap Moe’.”

Ichino says with complete seriousness—as if they aren’t literally one of said youth.

I mentally add ‘Gap Moe’ to the list of things I never expected to hear Ichino say, before getting up and walking over to Haruki.

“Anyway—great timing, Haruki. I’ve got something important you need to hear.”

I look over at the horde of girls gathered by the doorway…

…then slam the door shut on them.

“What the—hey! Ubakawa!” comes the chorus of protests from the other side.

I turn to Yuka.

“Hey Yuka—could you do me a favor and check the supply closet over there for a box labeled ‘Do Not Throw Away’? I think I might’ve left it there."

“Anything for you, Tomoya!”

The moment she’s out of earshot, I sling an arm around Haruki’s shoulder and steer him away from the door, lowering my voice to a whisper.

“Yo, I’ve got it on good authority there might be a pop quiz tomorrow in History—Meiji Restoration.”

(This is a complete fabrication.)

“What? But we didn’t even cover that ye—”

“It’s likely to test whether we’re diligent students studying ahead. Might even include material not in the textbook.”

“Oh no! We need to tell—”

“You can’t. It’s a secret. If it gets out, my source is blown. That’s why I had to shut the door on the girls outside and send Yuka away—too many people, someone’s bound to leak it.”

“Aw man…I guess that makes sense. So what do we do?”

“There’s a few supplementary books in the library I stashed, plus some old practice sheets I bought off Ichino. Back section of the library—quiet, secluded. We just need to get there without being seen.”

Haruki looks at me like I’ve just declared war on reality.

“...Tomoya. I don’t know if you’ve noticed lately, but there’s no such thing as ‘unseen’ when I’m involved. That includes the giant crowd standing outside the door.”

“Oh ye of little faith. Behold!”

I reveal a cart full of lost books earmarked to be returned to the library. With a bit of rearranging, I’ve cleared out just enough space for a person to fit curled up inside.

“Hide in the cart and I’ll take it to the library. Once we’re in the back, you can pop out unseen.”

“Devious, I’m digging this side of you Tomoya—you’re a real genius, aren’t you?”

“Well, I don’t know about genius,” I reply, a bit flustered, struggling to deal with the praise.

“So…ready?”

“Let’s do this!”

We knock forearms together, and Haruki hops into the cart. I quickly stack the books back over him until he’s completely hidden, then open the door and roll the cart out into the hallway.

“Hey, what’s the big deal, Ubakawa? Why’d you slam the door on us?”

“Really sorry, guys. Sensitive matter—we couldn’t risk anyone outside the student council overhearing.”

They glance around the room.

No Haruki.

“Ubakawa…where did Kojima go?”

“Oh, he went through the other door. Said he had to meet some club leaders. I was wondering why you were all still standing here.

“Geez—thanks for shutting the door on us, Ubakawa! Ugh—whatever, come on, let’s go find him!”

They immediately break off, sprinting in different directions.

From inside the cart, Haruki lets out a muffled snort.

I bite back a laugh myself.

Leaning down, I whisper, barely keeping it together.

“Pfft—dude, stop, you’re gonna blow our cover.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers back, still shaking with laughter.

I shut the door behind me and start pushing the cart down the hallway—

“Wha- where did Tomoya go?!?!”

Yuka’s voice rings out from behind.

I freeze for half a second.

Then immediately pick up speed, pushing the cart into a full-on sprint toward the freight elevator.

I scramble to pull out my student council keycard, but the panel is already unlocked. I swerve inside, praying I don’t accidentally barrel into a teacher.

The doors slide shut behind us—

Yuka’s voice echoes faintly down the hallway, calling my name.

Having just barely avoided her sight, I let out a sigh of relief…

…only to immediately tense back up.

Waiting there for us is just about the worst possible heroine we could’ve run into.

Nijimura Iroha (虹村 彩葉)

Short, wavy orange hair. Heterochromia—right eye purple, left eye green. A mischievous smile that rarely signals anything good.

She looks at me expectantly, lounging in her electric wheelchair like she owns the place—covered head to toe in a colorful mess of paint stains. Her beret, apron, clothes, and even the chair all bear the same chaotic signature.

A true prodigy—every form of art, every contest victory—it all comes to her effortlessly. However, so does her instinct for mischief, channeling most of her creativity into transgressive art meant to get a rise out of people, whether classmates or strangers on the internet. She’s terminally online enough that there’s no real difference to her anymore.

And it doesn’t stop at art.

Teasing, pranks, instigating arguments—she lives to provoke reactions and start metaphorical fires wherever she goes. As the harem’s resident fire fighter, she's developed a particular interest in watching me squirm. And sadly for me, I’ve got a tinder box sitting right inside this book cart.

“So, you gonna stand there all day or can I use the elevator?”

“Oh, yeah—sorry, we were hoping to use it too.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“We?”

Great. Fantastic start.

“Uh—me and the books,” I say, tapping the cart for emphasis.

“Hm…sus.”

“I’m just gonna go ahead and hit the button now. You going to the first floor too?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool…cool.”

I hit the button and the elevator begins to move.

“So…” I try, forcing some casual tone into my voice. “Nijimura, uh…paint anything interesting recently?”

She suddenly spins her wheel chair and rolls straight into me, pinning me lightly against the book cart.

“Why so nervous, Ubakawa? Does something about me make you uncomfortable?”

“Not particularly—though my shins aren’t having a great time right now, if you wouldn’t mind back up.”

She shrugs and rolls back, then immediately puts on a smug expression.

“Well, if you must know, I recently finished crafting a painting of two video game characters that I happen to know you’re a fan of. And the real kicker? The whole thing’s over ten feet tall. Quite the sight to behold.”

“Wait—actually? That’s sick. Forget the small talk, can I see it? What characters? Do you have a photo?”

She nonchalantly pulls out her phone.

“See for yourself.”

I immediately go from excitement to immeasurable disappointment.

A painting of that blue hedgehog I mentioned earlier—locked in a passionate kiss with a certain red plumber in blue overalls, a tribute to a particularly infamous internet meme.

“....Why are you like this? Why must you use your gifts for evil?” I ask.

She triumphantly lifts her phone.

“I’m rejecting my humanity, Ubakawa!”

The elevator doors open.

Students walk by giving her strange looks.

Her face turns faintly red.

She immediately clears her throat, slips her phone away, and attempts to pretend nothing happened.

I exit the elevator first, pushing the cart through the doorway, with her following behind.

“Well, human or not, I guess it wouldn’t be the Art Club we know and love without you, Nijimura.”

“I think that might just be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me while implying I might not be human.”

“Well, I have been known to be quite the charmer.” I wink “See you around, Nijimura.”

“See ya around, Ubakawa.”

She rolls away, then glances back at the cart.

“BYE KOJIMA!”

Haruki lets out a startled yelp from inside the books.

“Ow!”

Several girls pop out from nearby corridors and corners—some clearly not even part of the earlier search.

I should’ve known she wouldn’t let me off clean.

“Kojima?” one girl shouts.

“Where?” another calls.

In an instant, they start stampeding toward us.

I brace for impact, frozen in place as they get closer and closer—

Right as they’re about to envelop us, I squeeze my eyes shut—

…

Nothing.

I open them again.

They’ve already run right past us.

“I heard it from over there!”

They keep going, following the direction Nijimura went.

“Phew! That was a close one—”

“Shh! Don’t blow your cover, we’re almost there.”

“Oh—right. Sorry.”

I start pushing the cart again, as fast I can without drawing attention, making my way toward the library.

And then we—

We actually make it.

…

Really?

…

REALLY?

I just stand there for a second, dumbfounded.

I can’t believe it.

I can finally talk to him.