Middle-School Bishoujo Gamers, Delicate as Snow Sculptures

※This is a repost of an article originally published over five years ago.

　Teenage boys in the thick of puberty and bishoujo games go together way too well.

　Back when I was in middle school, KyoAni’s anime adaptation of CLANNAD happened, and the all-ages version of Little Busters! came out—so for otaku who weren’t old enough to buy adult stuff, Key titles were the safest and strongest “bishoujo game content” everyone loved by default.

　In a classroom where the whole class was obsessed with Monster Hunter, a small cluster of otaku would hide in the corner, secretly playing PSP ports of Kanon and AIR, and actually crying. After wiping away those grimy little tears, we’d watch Little Busters MAD videos we’d downloaded from Nico Nico Douga.

　Those were peaceful days.

　Of course, a pubescent boy’s appetite doesn’t stop there.

　We’d use family members or mail order to reach for 18+ games, too. Sometimes we’d learn about titles like Inyouchuu, and yes—there was even a friend who literally reached for the “tentacles,” so to speak.

　That guy also, unsurprisingly, loved KyoAni to death, so when I told him about W Shokku—a game with twin characters that were obviously modeled after Lucky★Star—he played it like crazy and forgot studying for entrance exams entirely.

　His grades fell… along with everything else, thanks to the tentacles.

　But while some students were proudly honest about their impulses, plenty of otaku—because, well, puberty—still tried desperately to hide their “preferences.”

　Once, our class did this dumb little “WaifuTalk” where we had to announce our “waifu.” While the delinquent types named “Nami from One Piece” or some actress, when it was an otaku’s turn, he got embarrassed and lied, like, “I’m scared—I’ve never even thought about that kind of thing.” The boys found it hilarious and teased him for it nonstop. I still remember that.

　As for me—at the time, I was into Aya Shameimaru, but I still managed to demonstrate basic social skills and answered “Nico Robin.”

　I couldn’t bring myself to say Nami. My contrarian spirit wouldn’t allow it. Cute, right?

　The more sensitive otaku kids would sometimes draw a line in the sand and go, “I play bishoujo games for the story, so don’t lump me in with you horny idiots,” and start feuding with the openly horny ones.

　Some of them wouldn’t even admit they liked cute girls at all—insisting, unprompted, “I enjoy Touhou purely as a game.” Everyone was young.

Now, finally, the main story.

　This is about the day I went to hang out at the house of one of those friends—the type who swears, “I’m not interested in girls at all.”

　A bunch of us barged into his place and played Metal Slug on PSP until we were exhausted. Once the adrenaline died down, the room naturally shifted into that “let’s poke around the house” atmosphere.

　His room was full of Gunpla—he was trying hard to look tough and “serious.” His bookshelf was stacked with shounen manga like NARUTO and HUNTER×HUNTER. Not a trace of bishoujo illustrations anywhere.

　Even the otaku kids with “cool Touhou fanart” wallpapers on their PSPs had to concede defeat.

　The vibe became: “You’re the real deal. You actually chose men over women.”

　And then—

　One of my friends reached deep into the closet and found a pile of ZOIDS model kit boxes.

　“Yo, ZOIDS!” he said casually and grabbed one.

　The moment he did, the owner’s face tightened in real time.

　A bad feeling spread through the room. But curiosity didn’t stop, so he opened the box—

　And inside: a massive pile of Da Capo series.

　Everyone froze.

　No one could’ve predicted that what we thought would be a Shield Liger turned out to be Asakura Yume.

　It wasn’t even the kind of situation where “teasing him about it” would soften the blow. We couldn’t joke our way out. We just stood there, waiting for the trembling owner to speak.

　No matter what he said, it was already beyond saving—yet as a human being, he still had to say something. That tension filled the room.

　“I’m not in it for the girls. I’m just here for the story.”

　That was the answer he chose.

　He fully committed to the “I play adult games for the plot” stance.

　I mean… claiming that with Da Capo is a little unrealistic, don’t you think? Everyone wanted to say it, but we swallowed it.

　We avoided looking at the Santa-costume Yume peeking out through the gaps, and started packing up at once.

　We just wanted to escape this space as fast as possible—one second sooner, one ounce less responsibility.

　Even we—mischief-loving middle school boys—had no intention of interrupting his private time with Yume.

　By all means, enjoy being sandwiched between sisters and living your best life.

　Just… please let us go home.

　Without saying a word, we communicated through nothing but our eyes, and left his room.

　All of us in silence.

　By unspoken agreement, nobody mentioned the incident the next day either.

　We continued treating him as “the otaku who isn’t interested in girls.”

　Warmth. Consideration. The famous Japanese “nu-ku-mo-ri-ti.”

　Meanwhile, elsewhere, another friend was loudly preaching the greatness of tentacle stuff.

　And so, even today, in some middle school somewhere, bold otaku and delicate otaku alike continue enjoying their own versions of adolescence.