Chapter 27: 『empathy 』 doesn’t seem like that of humans
“Wait, let me confirm something first. You and Nekoyanagi-san are childhood friends, right?”
“Indeed.”
As though intentionally derailing the conversation from the very first step, Taketsuru interrupted with that question.
When Meiko and I both nodded in affirmation, he immediately pressed further.
“No, that’s weird though. If you met one year ago, then you were already, what, high schoolers? That doesn’t count as childhood friends.”
“What a strange thing to say, Taketsuru.”
“No, I’m not the weird one here. Right, Kuwajima-san? I’m not crazy, am I?”
In response to Taketsuru’s plea for validation, Kuwajima nodded her head up and down so hard it practically blurred.
Good grief.
Did I really have to begin from something this elementary?
“Taketsuru. I once told you before, didn’t I? That the amount of time spent together is not what determines whether people become best friends.”
“Well… yeah. That much I agree with.”
“Then couldn’t the same be said for becoming childhood friends? That the amount of time is irrelevant?”
“No, it absolutely cannot.”
Taketsuru’s thinking still seemed rigid and inflexible.
“Then let me ask you this instead,” I continued. “From exactly how many years of acquaintance onward does someone qualify as a childhood friend?”
“Well… I dunno the official definition, but probably from before elementary school or something?”
“Then which is more of a childhood friend: someone who’s been with you continuously since the first day of elementary school, or someone you played with constantly before school age but ended up attending a different school from afterward?”
“Huh? Uh… which one would it be?”
Taketsuru fell silent in thought.
Exactly.
People casually throw around the term childhood friend, but in reality, no clear definition actually exists.
Generally, it refers to someone you knew from before elementary school age…
But then what?
The instant elementary school starts, does it suddenly become impossible to become childhood friends anymore?
Does a relationship truly become divided by a mere difference of one day?
If you were close before school age and reunited in middle school, are you still childhood friends?
What if that reunion happened in high school instead?
Would you still count?
Could you proudly claim the title of childhood friend over someone who had stayed by your side continuously since elementary school?
If you played together only once, but met earlier than someone else, does that person automatically gain priority as the “real” childhood friend?
No—
Wouldn’t it be impossible to call someone a childhood friend at all unless you were actually close, regardless of how early you met?
And if the argument is purely about who met first, then what about all the babies lined up together in the hospital right after birth? Were they all childhood friends?
If reincarnation existed, would relationships from a previous life supersede those from the current one?
And when you reached one hundred years old, wouldn’t all the years before adulthood become negligible anyway?
After considering countless such possibilities, I arrived at a single conclusion.
“That is why I decided this: if two people met during a time they themselves consider ‘younger than now,’ and both mutually acknowledge each other as ‘childhood friends,’ then they are, in fact, childhood friends.”
“O-Oh…”
“It’s definitely wrong… and yet somehow I can’t think of a counterargument…” Kuwajima muttered weakly.
The reason no rebuttal comes to mind is because you recognize a certain logic in my words, Kuwajima.
In any case, now that the fact that Meiko and I are childhood friends had been conclusively proven, I decided to continue.
“This happened roughly one year ago. The day it was decided that, due to family circumstances, I would be expelled from my home.”
──────
Though saying it myself may sound arrogant, I considered myself an outstanding student back in high school.
My academic grades and athletic performance were both top-class, and there were many people who followed after me.
Well…
Whether those counted as actual friendships was another matter entirely.
Still, I had never been particularly dissatisfied with my life.
I believed my future was smooth sailing.
Until—
“Gouto. At this rate, I cannot entrust the Kirishiro family to you. You are hereby exiled.”
My father—Retsuya—said those words to me approximately one year ago, on a certain day in June.
It happened during dinner, one of the rare occasions where all five members of my family had gathered together: my father, mother, younger sister, younger brother, and me.
Without warning, Father made that declaration.
Faced with those completely unexpected words, I merely nodded calmly.
“I understand. Then let us proceed with discussing my independence, Father. If I am to be expelled from the house, to what extent should I expect financial support? Depending on that, my university and future life plans will need adjustment.”
“…Um, Gouto-kun? Could you maybe react with a little more shock? Your father just said something pretty dramatic, you know?”
“Being shaken will not move the situation forward. If this decision is final, then the logical course is to accept reality and pursue the optimal solution from there.”
“Gouto-kun. We have a proper sequence planned here, so first you’re supposed to ask, ‘What do you mean by that?’ before we continue.”
Apparently, Father wished to perform some sort of theatrical exchange.
I glanced around the table.
Mother looked exasperated.
My younger sister and brother sat there utterly dumbfounded.
I see.
So this discussion had only been coordinated between Father and Mother beforehand.
“Ahem,” Father coughed. “Listen carefully, Gouto. You have received an advanced education as the successor to the Kirishiro family. You understand that, yes?”
“Yes.”
“However, you currently lack something essential to inheriting the Kirishiro name. Your mother Leila and I have both reached that conclusion. At this rate, we may choose to pass the family on not to you, but to Aya or Kei instead.”
“I understand. Then let us continue the previous discussion.”
“Don’t understand it so quickly! Listen to the rest first! Don’t give up already!”
The mask of the stern patriarch had completely crumbled.
Which was hardly surprising.
Father was, by nature, an absurdly affectionate parent and utterly unsuited for acting harsh toward his children.
Mother remained exasperated as ever, while my younger siblings had begun panicking.
“Is Oniichan really leaving!?”
As always, Father resembled my sister and brother quite a bit.
And I resembled Mother.
Mother was far more emotionally detached than Father.
Perhaps deciding the situation would spiral out of control if left entirely to him, Mother smoothly took over the conversation.
“Gouto. Are you aware of what sort of evaluations your school has been sending to this family regarding you?”
“No.”
“Your academics and athletic abilities are irrelevant for now. We already know you are exceptional. The problem lies in your personality. We have been informed that your ‘decisiveness,’ ‘execution ability,’ and ‘capacity for empathy’ do not appear human.”
“…Those sound like compliments.”
“The first two are.”
Well, even I admit that once I decide on something, I act extremely quickly.
But empathy?
What about it?
“It appears,” Mother continued coolly, “that you subconsciously regard other people as little more than objects that produce predetermined responses when given specific stimuli.”
“That is inaccurate. I always tailor my approach according to the individual. People perform better when made to feel good.”
“That is not called empathy. Are you an AI? As your mother, I believe empathy is necessary for inheriting the Kirishiro family. For example—do you understand what your father, sister, and brother are currently thinking right now?”
“I believe they are thinking, ‘How long is this conversation going to continue?’”
“Correct, and yet incorrect. What they truly want is for you not to leave this house. They want you to try to remain within the Kirishiro family.”
I glanced toward my younger siblings.
Both of them nodded vigorously with tear-filled eyes.
I see.
So this was what people referred to as familial affection.
Well, it wasn’t as though I actively wanted to leave home, nor did I particularly enjoy making my adorable younger siblings cry.
“Then, Mother,” I said, “you are telling me that in order to avoid expulsion from this house, I must take action to acquire this so-called ‘empathy’?”
“Correct. The day you acquire empathy at a truly human level, the future of the Kirishiro family will become secure. However, if you fail, then Aya or Kei will inherit the family instead… and eventually, Kirishiro will decline.”
Wouldn’t the future end up the same either way, then?
Now then.
How exactly did Mother intend to resolve this matter?
Meanwhile, my beloved siblings had devolved into loudly sobbing—
“WE DON’T WANT ONIICHAN TO LEAVE!!”
—but at the moment, that was secondary.
Thinking through the flow of the conversation rationally, the answer became obvious.
I was to be given some sort of test.
Passing it would prove that I had acquired “human-level empathy.”
And Father expected me to challenge that test.
“I understand,” I said. “So then, Father—what exactly do you want me to do?”
At my question, Mother nudged Father again, prompting him to clear his throat dramatically.
Then, with a hastily reconstructed expression of dignity, he declared:
“Gouto. You will learn what it means to be normal. For the four years of university life, you will leave behind your current environment and live independently. During those four years, you will learn ordinary human relationships, ordinary ways of life, and ordinary emotions. Once those four years apart from the Kirishiro family are complete, we shall evaluate just how ‘normal’ you have become.”
That—
was the test imposed upon me by the Kirishiro family.
──────
“Sorry to interrupt in the middle of the story, Kirishiro,” Taketsuru suddenly said.
“What is it?”
“You’re… talking about that Kirishiro Group, right? The giant corporation involved in food, education, medical care, and basically everything else?”
“Yes.”
“You’re insanely rich then!? WHY THE HELL ARE YOU LIVING IN THIS DUMP OF AN APARTMENT!?”
“That would be because, in order for me to learn what constitutes a ‘normal lifestyle,’ my allowance has been restricted to eighty thousand yen per month.”
More than half of that vanished immediately into rent, utilities, and communication expenses.
I was also prohibited from growing the remaining thirty thousand through investments, so I had no choice but to survive within those limits.
As for getting a part-time job…
I still hadn’t mentally prepared myself to devote my entire soul to such a terrifying undertaking.
Now then.
That introduction ran rather long, but let us skip ahead to the point where I first encountered Meiko.
──────
──────
You can really tell that even now, he’s already become considerably more normal compared to before.