"Then what do you want me to call you?"
"Miss Senjogahara."
Was she in her right mind?
“... Miss-Sen-Joe-Guh-Hara."
"I won't have you saying it like a machine. Say it normally."
"Missy Senjogahara."
She poked me in the eyes.
"You nearly blinded me!"
"An eye for an eye," she said.
"How do you get an eye out of hurt feelings? Where's the equivalence in that?!"
"My inappropriate remarks are an alloy of 40 grams copper, 25 grams zinc, 15 grams nickel, 5 grams bashfulness, and 97 kilograms malice."
That's almost all malice!"
"Also, I was lying about the bashfulness."
"And now you got rid of the saving grace!
“Oh, be quiet. I'm going to nickname you 'menstrual cramps' if you don't knock it off."
“That's the kind of bullying people kill themselves over!"
"What do you mean? It's literally a natural phenomenon, nothing to be embarrassed of."
“Then don't be malicious about it!"
Senjogahara seemed to have gotten her fill and finally turned back to Oshino. "Now, before we proceed, allow me one question."
Her tone suggested that she wasn't asking just Oshino, but both me and him, as she pointed to a corner of the classroom. There, holding her knees, crouched a little girl who seemed out of place even in a cram school because she was too little at about eight years old , a pale blonde girl who wore a helmet and goggles.
"What, exactly, is that child?'
Judging by her phrasing, she recognized that the girl wasn't fully a who. In fact, a prickly glare that surpassed even Senjogahara's and that focused on a single point, Oshino, and didn't waver would have tipped off anyone attuned to such things.
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," I explained to her before Oshino got a chance. "It's not like she can do anything, she just sits there—it's nothing. A kid who's neither a shadow nor a trace. Not even a name or a presence.
"Hold on a sec, Araragi," Oshino cut in. "You're right to say that she has no shadow, trace, or even a presence, but I gave her a name yesterday. She worked hard over Golden Week, plus it's a huge pain to have nothing to call her by. And without a name, she'll never stop being heinous.
"A name, huh? What is it?" I knew I was abandoning Senjogahara with the question, but I was interested so I asked.
"I named her Shinobu Oshino."
"Shinobu—huh."
A decisively Japanese name. It was also an alternative reading for the "Oshi" in Oshino.
Not that it mattered.
"Written with the character for 'heart' under the one for ‘blade.’ A fitting name for her, don't you think? I let her reuse my last name as-is, which by luck uses the same character. Double it up for triple the meaning. I'm pretty impressed with my sensibility, if I do say so myself."
It really didn't matter.
After giving it some thought," my savior continued, "it came down to Shinobu Oshino or Oshino Oshino, with an Edo period-style 'O' the given name, but I decided to prioritize how it sounds over linguistic uniformity. I'm also a fan of the way it resembles missy class president on paper, with two characters for the last name but just one for the first."
"Why not."
It absolutely didn't matter.
Though, well, "Oshino Oshino" did seem out of the question.
"So," Senjogahara said, as if her patience had run out long ago, "what is that child?"
"Like I said—it's nothing," I told her.
A husk of a vampire.
The dregs of a beautiful demon.
You might say so, but what else could I have done? This had nothing to do with Senjogahara anyway. It was my problem. Just my karma, which I merely ought to face for the rest of my life.
"It's nothing? Okay, then."
What an indifferent woman.
"It's like my grandmother on my father's side always said," she added. "The opposite of hate is not love, but indifference."
"Hold on, what?"
That was somehow so messed up.
Where did that one come from, the bath-pissed church?
"But anyway." Hitagi Senjogahara shifted her gaze from the pale, blonde former vampire, now known as Shinobu Oshino, to Mémé Oshino. "I heard that you would save me."
"Save you? Now that I can't do," Oshino said in his usual teasing tone. "You're just going to get saved on your own, missy."
“……”
Whoa.
Senjogahara's eyes narrowed by half.
She was manifestly doubtful.
"So far," she said, "five people have spouted similar lines to me. All of them were frauds. Are you one as well, Mister Oshino?"
"Ha hah. You're a spirited one, missy. Something good happen to you?”
Why do you keep provoking her right back, I wondered. It worked on some people, like Hanekawa, but Senjogahara was the last person to try it on.
She was the type to respond to provocation with a preemptive strike.
"N-Now, now," I was forced to step in and mediate.
As if to wedge myself in between the two.
"Keep your nose out of this. I'll kill you."
So casual a death threat, Senjogahara.
Why should the sparks fall on me?
She was like a firebomb.
She was going to outpace my vocabulary, wasn't she?
"Well, in any case." Oshino's carefree manner offered such a contrast with hers. "We're not going to get anywhere unless you start talking. I'm no good at reading minds. And more importantly, I like dialogue. I'm a talker at heart. But I do keep secrets, so don't you worry.
Senjogahara didn't respond.
"U-Uhm, so to start with a simple explanation—" I began.
"It's fine, Araragi," she interrupted again before I could go over the gist of it. "I'll do it myself."
"Senjogahara—"
"I can do it myself," she said.