Battery Level

Diligence is one virtue Hōtarō does not possess. His alarm clock, on the other hand, records each second as it passes and will continue counting until time runs out. At specific times, however, his alarm clock explodes in frustration:

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

Hōtarō groans and scrunches his body into the fetal position. Sleep has met its match. At first, Hōtarō hesitates, but then he convinces himself that it's worth the energy and reaches out his arm, fumbling to turn off his alarm clock.

Internal battery level at 83 percent, he thinks, trying to fit a number to his energy level. He turns on his power-saving mode.

He continues lying in his bed, hoping that he can get up to 85 percent before—

"Hōtarō, it's time for school!" calls his sister.

A groan is all he manages.

By the time that Hōtarō enters the kitchen, his battery level already has fallen to 77 percent. Getting out of bed is the biggest waste of energy, he believes, but troubling his sister by staying in bed only creates more hassle. Still, Hōtarō wonders how he will make it through the day with only 77 percent of his battery life remaining. Maybe a nap during his morning session will allow him to restore his health, he contemplates, but then he shakes the thought from his head. If he dozes during class, then his teacher will add him to cleaning duty, thus depriving him of the energy that he gains.

Slowly, Hōtarō munches on a slice of toast as his sister hurries about the kitchen.

"Sorry, I'm in a rush and can't make you a bento," she explains.

Her brother mumbles something to her. She has gotten used to this habit and ignores these lost words.

Hōtarō continues eating as his sister rushes out the door. Making a bento takes too much energy, so he decides to buy lunch instead.

The journey to school takes too long and demands too much energy of Hōtarō—especially this early in the day. While he knows that other people have much longer commutes than he does, Hōtarō wishes that there were a school closer to his house.

Battery level at 70 percent, he notes grimly.

"Hōtarō!"

He recognizes the voice that interrupts his internal complaints. He hears it every morning. The thought of fleeing comes to his mind, yet he dismisses it, knowing that any attempt to bolt is pointless.

Satoshi jogs to Hōtarō and gives him an earnest smile. Hōtarō does not return it. This does not prevent Satoshi from beginning his usual chatter.

Each time Hōtarō stands to greet an incoming teacher or thanks a leaving one, he feels his battery level waste, point by point. His blank notebook attests to his efforts to save energy—Hōtarō doesn't even know if he has a pen—yet his battery level slowly declines throughout the morning. He can't believe his battery level drops below 50 percent by lunchtime.

Without a packed lunch, Hōtarō considers his two options: either he can go to the cafeteria and eat a better lunch, or he can go to the vending machine and get a cheap lunch. While the cafeteria food will provide him with more energy, the vending machine lunch, which is closer, will save him the energy of walking. Without much deliberation, Hōtarō chooses the latter.

His battery level flutters upward to 52 percent as he begins eating. He sighs, pushing crumbs into his mouth.

Why does my sister have to be so lazy? He thinks.

He stumbles into the Geography Prep room, wondering how he's going to reach his home with the lingering 10 percent of his battery life. His afternoon teacher—sensing that Hōtarō was trying to nap—kept calling on him to translate passages from the text. Hōtarō groaned each of the four times he had to stand, and he lamented the energy expenditure each time he slouched back into his seat.

Mayaka, the only other one in the clubroom, makes some snide remark at his entrance, but Hōtarō can't waste energy on a quip. Instead, he takes a seat and removes a paperback from his bag. With any luck, he thinks, I can make it through club activities using only 2 percent. When Chitanda enters the clubroom with a glimmer in her eyes, Hōtarō bids farewell to the rest of his battery life.

"Oreki-san," starts Chitanda.

Hōtarō knows what's coming. Chitanda tells a narrative about something strange she heard in the changing room before gym class. Hōtarō's paperback rests on the desk while Hōtarō listens to Chitanda's explanation.

At the conclusion of her story, Chitanda moves her face closer to Hōtarō's. "Please, help. I'm curious!" she exclaims.

Those words normally signal a funeral procession for Hōtarō's battery, but Hōtarō notices something different happening. Her face is so close to his that Hōtarō starts to blush. Her eyes gleam with an energy that Hōtarō envies. Her lips form delicate words with such earnestness that Hōtarō can't stop staring at them.

Before he can respond to Chitanda's request, Hōtarō pauses. The spark in Chitanda's eyes boosts his battery level, now at 23 percent. His unchangeable face masks his confusion. How does this girl have this effect on me? He wonders. Yet this energy boost is a high, something that Hōtarō can't resist. When he sees Chitanda, he starts siphoning a bit of her overwhelming energy, and he wants more of it.

So he doesn't waste his words: "Tell me more."