#hibiki is a hell hound

[impish-crow]

[Translation] DIG-ROCK Christmas Short Story - with HOUND ROAR

"Mituru. Where are you right now?"

Before receiving a response from my younger brother, cheerful voices jumped into my ears.

(Perhaps he's out drinking with someone.)

I have no intention of lecturing. After all, my brother is already an adult. Moreover, it's Christmas Eve today. It's natural for him to go out and have a drink with someone in the evening. Yet,

(Mitsuru, drinking…?) The image from his underage days still lingers.

I know. Mitsuru is already an adult. It’s different from the time when he was looking forward to Christmas cake once a year.

(Even though I used to be afraid and avoided him for years.)

There are still some unresolved issues between us. However,

(What if he's alone?)

As soon as I relaxed a bit, I found myself putting on the older brother act. But then suddenly, it became embarrassingly awkward.

"No, it's not something urgent. But, contact Mom soon. She's been worried. ...Well then."

I unilaterally hung up after rushing him. I put my smartphone on the table as if throwing it.

(Well, it's fine. If he's not lonely, that's good.)

Thinking that, I smiled wryly.

(I'm the one who's alone.)

After realising "EGOIST," Hauro's schedule had a noticeable gap. While Kasuga seemed to be running around here and there, when asked, he would only say, "I'll let you know when it gets a bit more specific," and I didn't know the details. Meanwhile, contracted work surged in a year-end rush, and as I diligently handled it, all the year-end work was neatly completed.

(It's been a while since I've been idle like this.)

I've been hectically working as if urged on.

(Despite not having a musical talent,) the voice inside me that whispers such thoughts is frightening. I'm afraid that if I come to my senses, I won't be able to do anything, and I wanted to forget. If I accumulate small praises, my mind will be distracted—.

"……A phone call?"

The name "Endo Shoma" is jumping on the trembling screen of the smartphone on the desk.

"Oh, Hello, Toya. Do you have Magane’s key In your place?"

"The key? His house key?"

I've already gotten used to sudden calls that start before I can bring up the topic.

"Hey, idiot, cut it out!"

"What's your problem! I'm just calling because you can't ask Toya about that, you moron. Be grateful, idiot."

"Who the hell asked you, you damn yankee!"

"Oh, wait, Kouno! Give it back!"

After a while, a calm and composed voice from Hibiki said, "Shion can't find the key of his house."

"I called Sogo earlier to check inside the car, but it wasn't there. Maybe when we stopped by Toya's house during practice in the afternoon."

"I'll look for it. If I can't find it, I'll also contact the studio."

"Thanks. Also, can I come over later today?"

"I'm coming too! I'm coming!"

"Cut it out, idiot!"

"Why?"

"Because it's a nuisance, obviously!"

“Ugh, but Toya might have the key house. And it’s cold standing in the hallway of the apartment building. I don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind if you come over.”

“Toya said it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, really sorry...”

“I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. See you later.”

The phone was hung up on me.

(Those guys.)

I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“What are they doing? They’re such idiots.”

Of all times, they had to lose the key on Christmas Eve.

And they just barge into my house without even asking if I’m free.

On top of that, my room is a mess because of the end-of-year rush, and I only have twenty minutes left.

(This Christmas)

There’s nothing funny about it. But once I started laughing, I couldn’t stop, and tears started streaming down my face.

(When Christmas is over, a new year will come.)

I still don’t know anything about the future. But I’m not worried or scared. I’m not afraid of the passage of time.

“Jeez. Oh well.”

I chuckled at my own words and reached for my phone.

I don’t know anything, but I’m sure next year will be the same――that’s what I thought as I made the call.

“Hello, Sogo. Want to come over to my place now?”`

[loudgothbf]

Caring about anything had never been Hibiki’s favorite pastime. Passion was one thing— he had passion about lots of things, actually. If he hadn’t he wouldn’t have gotten himself into this unfortunate position in the first place.

The more he paid attention, though, the more he cared, and it was burning him up inside.

They made him check in every day with faculty to made sure he was “doing alright.” Everything he wrote, everything he doodled, everything he crafted in his lab, was scrutinized and questioned. He put in a request for a nightshade flower for an arrangement and was not simply met with a resounding, “No,” but a sudden and mandatory therapy session.

And the sessions, he knew, weren’t confidential. At least not the way he thought they should be. The therapist had to report back to Hope’s Peak, of course, because that’s why he was seeing them in the first place, so nothing he said was safe. He’d made friends, but the more he talked to them the more he realized: out of everyone, Hope’s Peak thought he was the craziest.

It made his skin crawl. Every corner had eyes behind it, every window a peeping gaze. He’d blown through two relationships in the past two weeks and both had resulted in him being hounded by his school-assigned confidant. It didn’t matter that it didn’t matter to him, it mattered to them, and they were watching. How was he supposed to feel sane when he was being treated like he was crazy?

Sure, the drugs weren’t helping, but what was he supposed to do?

God dammit. He’d hated this place before, while simultaneously loving it. But now he could only see it as a looming threat, waiting to crush him down if he fell out of line. And maybe that’s what it always was.

Plus, it wasn’t like he had anyone to talk to about this kind of thing. The disillusionment, the paranoia, the feeling of being hunted down, stalked by a predator, seeing the gray part around it but not being able to hide from it or know when it’ll pounce. It wasn’t like he had anyone to talk to at all. Of all people, Yuta had stopped accepting his calls. Though he was admittedly suspicious that Hope’s Peak simply pulled some strings to make sure they couldn’t talk. He wasn’t the best of listening ears in the first place, but now what?

Who the hell would understand this sort of… despair?