Chick 246
by Cristae246
“I can’t make toys.”
“Why not?”
“In my family, only creations that have use and value are considered meaningful.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
—That’s strange.
Gidan and On Groo grumbled, and Sergey, who had been listening quietly, popped his bubble gum.
“I can guess what kind of atmosphere your home has.”
Gidan muttered, thinking Sergey might be overlaying his own past and Haruna’s.
“That house must be so boring.”
Groo joined in, growling in a hoarse voice, “Sooo dull.”
Only Haruna didn’t understand what “dull” meant and asked again.
“Dull? Like finances?”
“Your house is not funny.”
“…Eh?”
At Gidan’s answer, Haruna soon let out a muffled laugh.
No jam. Would anyone in Japan ever call the Inoue family “no jam”?
Even back in school, her classmates never criticized her for not being able to play; they merely accepted it as a given.
“Haruna can’t play again today?”
“Haruna’s always busy with family matters.”
“She’s the daughter of an important family.”
“Can’t be helped. Hang in there!”
It was the same in elementary school, in middle school, and when she entered high school, no one even bothered to ask anymore.
Everyone already knew what kind of student Haruna was.
But in Korea…
—A family that won’t let you make toys is a bad family.
“That’s a capital offense.”
—Capital…! I never thought of it that way.
“You have to have grand ambitions in everything.”
—Understood. Inoue, death penalty.
Absurd remarks tumbled out in quick succession, translated and delivered directly to her.
She should say it’s not a bad family.
She should defend how phenomenal the Inoue family is.
Yet, somehow, Haruna found herself comforted by these persistent complaints.
Even as she witnessed peers disparaging her family, paradoxically, she felt a sense of relief, as if a weight lifted from her shoulders.
When Haruna, head bowed, snickered quietly, Sergey shot her a sidelong glance and smiled.
“Aren’t you going to make something? We might lose, you know.”
“Huh?”
When Sergey picked up a piece and started assembling it, Haruna’s eyes lit with understanding, and she nodded.
Meanwhile, Groo, who’d resumed focusing on building the drone, finished assembling the chick drone’s head and perked up his ears.
This isn’t the time for this!
He had meant to teach Haruna the joy of making things, but once he got started, he was caught up in enjoying it by himself.
An S-class toy!
Groo’s eyes sparkled.
Haruna was brimming with curiosity and anticipation, wondering what on earth to make.
But she was still hesitating, unable to fit even a single piece together.
Whenever she tried, the tinkling sound of pieces colliding echoed in her ears.
Along with her stern grandfather’s face as he hurled her works away.
“Yours isn’t even worth evaluating.”
Haruna’s hand, clutching a toy piece, trembled.
She didn’t want to disappoint anyone.
No matter how hard she tried, with her own talentless, unskilled hands, she couldn’t achieve anything remarkable.
Then, a soft, round teddy bear paw took her wrist.
Haruna’s voice flickered out like a dying candle.
[“…I’m scared I’ll mess it up.”]
She was afraid—even of building a single toy.
Afraid of not being able to create anything impressive and thus not being acknowledged once again.
[“I can’t be representative of Japan, not me.”]
Groo stared intently at Haruna.
After a moment’s thought, Groo pointed at Gidan.
Gidan was working with the focus of a professional.
However…
—Gidan is making a potato.
He was producing something knobby and round.
—And Sergey is making a sweet potato.
Sergey’s work was a bit smoother but about on Gidan’s level.
Both wore dead-serious expressions, and Haruna had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
—What the next table made looks like a monster with its eyes on its stomach.
Haruna turned to look.
Indeed, the eyes were on its belly.
Widening her gaze, she saw everyone in the experience zone messing up their creations while having a great time.
—Of course, it feels wonderful to be praised for creating something impressive.
Groo knows how nice it is to get five stars or hear praise from a parent, how it makes your heart feel like fireworks are going off inside.
—But that joy is only temporary.
The happiness from being recognized fades quickly, like a balloon losing air.
—Instead, finding joy in the process of making things means you can enjoy every day.
Right now, people in the experience zone were immersed in enjoying the process.
Gidan, Sergey, everyone except Haruna.
—So don’t stop creating just for that fleeting moment of recognition.
The process itself will give you a longer-lasting, greater happiness.
The awkward teddy bear doll waggled its eyebrows up and down and smiled at her.
—Do you still not feel like making something?
Haruna shook her head. Soon, she began piecing her project together, one piece at a time.
“A r-robot?”
—A robot!
What Haruna completed in a flash was a humanoid robot straight out of an anime.
Neither Gidan nor Groo, both obsessed with mechanics, could hide their trembling at the armored warrior Haruna had completed.
Sergey, acting as though he had made it himself, taunted them.
“Think you can win against that?”
“Traitor.”
—Traitor.
Sergey offered to let them call him that if they wished, and Gidan and Groo shook their fists in feigned fury.
At the comical scene, Haruna bit her lip to stifle a smile.
“Korea’s no pushover, you know?”
—That’s right. This chick here is invincible!
“He looks pretty weak.”
Sergey landed a critical hit with the comment Groo hated most: “looks weak.”
—Attacking with words…!
Enraged, Groo sent the chick into battle against Sergey’s sweet potato.
Flap flap flap!
With the chick’s wingbeats, the haphazard sweet potato collapsed completely.
“You—!”
“Keekeekee.”
—Hehe, hehe.
Gidan and Groo cackled maliciously and high-fived.
Haruna smiled as she watched them, now intent on attacking her robot to show off Korea’s power.
It looked totally childish and ridiculous, but it was fun.
She never imagined she’d be playing with toys again at nineteen.
Still, had she ever enjoyed herself this much before?
—Mephisto Kick!
“Go, Viat Type-12!”
As the group played like kindergartners, Haruna opened her mouth with rare resolve.
[“I have something to say to the Orchestra.”]
At her suddenly serious tone, all eyes turned to Haruna.
Everyone at least understood the word “Orchestra.”
Haruna turned down the volume as low as it would go and switched on the speaker.
“I am not S-class.”
—What?!
Groo’s eyes widened in shock.
Gidan and Sergey looked surprised but nodded in their own ways, accepting it.
Given the timing, it wasn’t something easily accepted, even if she claimed not to be S-class.
But what Haruna said next caught even them off guard.
“The reason for holding the special match simultaneously in Korea and Japan was because Yamaoka Shun seemed to have a Plan B.”
Sergey frowned.
“So, in other words, there’s another reason besides sabotaging the Fakeclaw Pop-up Store?”
Haruna nodded.
“It seemed like Yamaoka Shun was trying to create a pretext to come to Korea. I know very little. I am merely a puppet.”
“Yamaoka Shun?”
“He’s my guard.”
Haruna smiled wistfully.
After the former Prime Minister Takahashi Norio’s death, Yamaoka Shun, once the right hand of the Public Security Bureau, became like a kite without a string.
Since then, Yamaoka Shun had made constant efforts to come to Korea.
He was also the one who persuaded Haruna’s grandfather to present her as S-class.
Whether out of revenge or for some other reason, it was evident to Haruna that Yamaoka Shun was plotting something.
Though what it was, she did not know.
[“Where on earth did you go? Bring Inoue Haruna here.”]
[“Yes, sir.”]
At Yamaoka Shun’s order, a man in a suit bowed his head.
Watching the hunters grouped for the special match, Yamaoka Shun exited the main hall.
He pulled out his phone and, after telling his subordinates to begin, abruptly hung up.
Above the department store, where a line had formed for the pop-up store.
Yamaoka Shun slipped in, cloaked in stealth.
And Dominic, who had been observing it all, smiled.