School(

After numerous attempts to get through to the system, I went to wash my face without much slurping. The cold water allowed me to cheer up, and therefore I went to breakfast with a clear head. Mizuha was already waiting for me in the kitchen, dressed in a pink apron.

— Brother, everything is ready. Please come to the table," the nurse said politely, taking off her apron.

— Good, — memories suggest what place in the family is assigned to Keiki, and I sit down on it.

I pay attention to the table on which there were plates with various dishes, most of which I see for the first time. Of the really familiar things here, only sushi, which I was fond of in the past.

The closest thing to me is a plate of... miso soup. Except there's no spoon. Oh, yes, in this country they only use sticks. I look at the miso soup, then at the chopsticks and back at the soup. No, I also knew how to wield these cutlery in a previous life, and even more so with the newly appeared muscle memory. However, the remnants of common sense persistently whisper that eating the first course with chopsticks is definitely a perversion.

Well, there's nothing to do, they don't go to someone else's monastery with their charter. Having overcome myself, I proceed to breakfast.

***

It didn't go as bad as I expected. Throughout breakfast, the body acted on automatic, and therefore I did not particularly dwell on the strangeness of what was happening. In addition, if the use of miso soup raped my brain a little, then with the second courses everything went much easier. With the honed movements of the sticks, you can easily grab even one rice, which is difficult to do with an ordinary fork.

And the delicious cooking of Mizuhi allows you to put up with all the minuses at all. You don't even need to get married with such a sister. In general, Mizuha is so far the only indisputable plus of my new life.

After the meal, Mizuha and I got dressed and headed to the school that we share. I'm in my second year of study, and she's in her first. The journey from home to school took about fifteen minutes.

After parting with my sister, I went to the classroom assigned to our class. Interestingly, at my school, only the elementary grades were taught in one classroom, and starting from the fifth grade, students themselves had to run around the classrooms. Here, it's not the students who have to run, but the teachers.

Entering the classroom, I greet my "acquaintances" and sit down at my desk. After a short reflection, it was decided to reduce contacts with classmates and friends to a minimum until I make up my own opinion about them. I don't want to trust Keki's judgment in this case, because he had extremely strange conclusions due to his specific worldview. Somehow, doubts about their veracity gnaw at me.

I tried to listen carefully to the teachers, so that I would not have to reread the material again later. At least in my body, I resorted to such a strategy all the time. Is it feasible now? I don't know in my heart, but I need to train my memory in any case.

Oddly enough, the material we were going through did not cause me any difficulties. The exact sciences, of course, had no differences from the ones I studied at the time. History, geography and social studies, although they had a number of striking differences, but Keiki was an avid humanitarian, and therefore knew them on a firm "A". English, in which all my classmates openly swam, I knew better than the teacher at all.

At the end of classes, I was about to go home when I remembered that I was a member of the calligraphy club. It's strange, I don't remember Keiki being able to enter this branch of fine art. Hmm, so there are any attempts of the guy in calligraphy except as mediocre kaliaks-malakami can not be called. And he joined the club only because it was under threat of closure if another member did not join it. Why is this Keiki? And go understand him. The brain does not give any answers to this question, just some kind of lump of incomprehensible emotions of pity, compassion and God knows what else.

How incompetently you used the time given to you, Keiki. It is worth thinking about leaving the club and joining a more useful one. Or is it worth trying yourself in the field of calligraphy? Just because a guy didn't have the talent for it doesn't mean I don't have it, right? And even if not, so what? Talent can almost always be compensated with a proper share of diligence.

The club I needed was very close, so I got to it in a matter of seconds. Opening the sliding door, he entered the club room. The first thing I saw was a girl sitting with her back to me, who, like a mill, expressively waved a brush in front of a sheet of Whatman, managing to leave quite expressive lines on it, forming a hieroglyph. That's exactly who is not deprived of talent.

—Hey, Keiki-kun," the girl turned to me when she heard the sound of the door slamming.

— Hello, Sayuki-senpai, — according to all the rules of etiquette, I greeted the girl who is the president of this club.

— Uh, hello, Keiki-kun, — the girl lost her mind, but immediately caught a wave and continued her obviously prepared speech, — We don't think much about our school period of life, but in the future we won't be able to return to this time, — the girl stood up and said, standing with her back to me.

"Let's say," I answer neutrally, knowing from experience that inspiring speeches delivered in this tone most often precede an attempt to blame someone else for their work.

— Then why are we wasting this valuable time on all sorts of nonsense like cleaning the club room?! - untying the red ribbon tying her hair, Sayuki said pathetically, finally turning to face me.

It's immediately obvious — a talent! Even now, apply for an actor. Well, or some kind of propagandist. Looking at the girl's face, I can say that she is even more beautiful than in my memories. Long black hair, a pretty face, appetizing legs in dark stockings and voluminous breasts of at least the fourth size. It even crossed my mind that the calligraphy club is not such a waste of time.

— Because you are a terrible slob, lazy to do the cleaning, — I cut the truth to the uterus, looking at the cluttered room with scribbled papers.

— If society needs to clean up in order to survive, then let it die out! Sayuki shouted pathetically.

— Eh, Sayuki-san, who will marry you like that, — I shake my head reproachfully.

— Why did you bring up this topic so suddenly? — the president was embarrassed, pouting.

— Hee-hee-hee, well you scolded the witch-senpai! Suddenly, a thin voice rang out from behind one of the garbage mountains.

— And you, Koga-san, no one invited you here at all. You're not a member of the club," Sayuki retorted with lightning speed.

"No, I can't stand by while Keiki—senpai is suffering under the yoke of an evil witch!" A petite blonde exclaimed, climbing out of a pile of papers, pointing her finger at Sayuki.

Yuika Koga was the blonde's name. She was the same age as my sister, and therefore was also a student of the first grade of high school. Yuika didn't have amazing curves like Sayuki, but that doesn't mean she's ugly. A cute face, coupled with a doll's body and a perky character, gave the girl a special charm.

— Can we just finish and go home? — a new actor came into the club room with a broom in his hands.

Mao Nanjo is Keiki's classmate and friend. A calm girl with bright red hair and a choker around her neck. There are three school bags on the desk, which exactly coincides with the number of girls present here. So Mao came to the club before me, just left the room for some reason.

Without saying another word, the girl began to deftly shovel garbage into a pile with a broom and immediately shove it into a plastic bag.

— There is a lot of work here, — I sigh heavily, imagining in all colors how I will spend the next couple of hours. And all because of Sayuki, who scattered unsuccessful copies of her calligraphy on the floor. When one of the teachers saw the whole mess, he immediately called the girl to the staff room, where he gave her a lecture and told her to get out. And at that moment I was just passing by and was involved in this cleaning-punishment.

I would like to turn around and leave, but my conscience does not allow it. That Mao Nanjo (classmate), that Yuika Koga came to help with the cleaning only because of me, since both are my friends. Although they communicate with each other, but they can hardly be called friends. Yuika and Sayuki (the president) are like a cat and a dog at all, that's where friendship doesn't smell.

I have no idea how Keiki managed to unintentionally gather such a flower garden near him. Except that the kindness and reliability of the guy played a role. In any case, to leave now would be utter piggishness on my part, so I'll have to roll up my sleeves and shake the old days.

— Don't worry, Keiki, the five of us will manage quickly! Mao hastened to reassure me.

— There are four of us, — I look around in bewilderment, not finding the fifth.

"I met your sister in the hallway. When she found out that we were going to do the cleaning, she wanted to help. In general, she will be here any minute," Mao explained, continuing cleaning.

There can be no doubt that my sister volunteered as an assistant only for my sake. Somehow I feel really uncomfortable.

— Wow, it's worse than I thought, — Mizuha said, entering the open door of the room, — Brother, brother, I'm ready to start! Mizuha said enthusiastically, her eyes shining with anticipation. In fact, the usual reaction of a sister to everything that is somehow connected with her brother. That is, with me.

A-a-a, motherfucker, I still can't decide who to consider myself. On the one hand, I have the entire memory of Keiki's past, as well as his body, therefore I can identify myself with him. Which means Mizuha is already my sister. On the other hand, I have a different personality from Keiki, everything he did, I would have done completely differently. All his friends are strangers to me, by and large, people to whom I do not have any special friendly feelings. Do I have the right to call Mizuha sister if I am not her brother, but only a hitman who occupied his body?

No, it can't go on like this anymore. In order not to shake the psyche, which is already fragile due to recent events, you need to decide now. That's right, I will consider myself an updated Keiki. Version 2.0, which fixed all past bugs and probably added new ones.

My heart immediately felt a little lighter. The feeling of an impostor, though not disappeared, but significantly dulled.

When the five of us got down to business, the work really got more fun. Especially effective was my sister, who, unlike us, enjoyed cleaning.

The only one who worked half—heartedly was the culprit of all this sracha - Sayuki Tokihara. Right now she pretended to be actively dusting, while her rag has been motionless for a couple of minutes.

— Sayuki, enough filonit. There is nothing left," I made a remark to the president.

"Oh, but I'm so tired, so tired! — the girl began to simulate fatigue, wiping nonexistent sweat from her forehead.

"Lazy senpai, if you don't start cleaning up right now, I'll have to resort to extreme measures," I say with emphasis.

— What is it for? — the girl asked in a confident tone, putting her hands on her hips and sticking out her chest like a wheel.

— To conduct a preventive conversation with the use of a belt not for its intended purpose, — I answer with a steely note in my voice, tapping my finger on the belt plaque. I have a well-developed command tone from my previous life.

Sayuki fell into a stupor for a second.

"Y—are you going to spank me?! Sayuki asks with a strange intonation in his voice.

— Exactly. So let's not drag out the cleaning.

"Y—maybe I really deserve to be punished," Sayuki muttered under her breath.

— Excuse me what? — I raise an eyebrow in surprise.

— Oh! — the girl squeaked in embarrassment, — I don't ... I mean, I'll fix it, — the girl's gaze ran around the room.

—Um, okay," I said, not knowing how to react to such an extraordinary reaction of the girl.

Sayuki went back to dusting. This time she wasn't freebie, though she often looked at me with a strange look, the meaning of which was not possible to identify.

Fifteen minutes later, the cleaning was completed and I was finally able to contemplate a clean club room. And nothing so cozy.

On the one hand, all kinds of school clubs, called clubs here, were an incredible gemor. Not only did they eat up a lot of free time, they were also subject to control by the student council and the school administration. What is the rule that says that each club should have a teacher assigned to it, who you can still try to persuade to do this.

On the other hand, it's not so scary. Clubs are not an obligation, you want to join, you want not to join. Those who do not belong to any club, jokingly call themselves members of the "going home" club. Teachers, of course, sometimes try to drag such students into clubs, but it does not go beyond propaganda propaganda. The undeniable advantage of such a club system is that you can always find like-minded people who share your hobbies. If the profile activity of the club is sound, then it is also generously funded by the school. Naturally, no one will finance bullshit like the "Club of Contemplators of the Beautiful". God forbid, if they agree to register at all. Technically, the club can not be registered, then you do not need to meet any requirements at all. Such an education is simply called a circle. That's just that no one is obliged to allocate a room for their activities to the circles. The management can make concessions if there are empty rooms in the school, if not, then it remains only to gather outside the school building.

As for me, this is a very good system. Schoolchildren are always in business, and not wandering the streets. In addition, this is not a bad way to develop responsibility, because clubs receiving funding must report on every yen spent.

Sayuki, being the president of the calligraphy club, last year faced the problem of the lack of the minimum necessary number of people to continue the activities of the club. A little more and the club would have been dissolved, but then Keiki appears and, for some reason unclear to me, joins the club. Such is the story.

— Good job, brother, — my sister's joyful voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

— Thank you for your help, little sister, — I sincerely thank Mizuha, stroking her on the head.

The girl's cheeks turned red, and she snuggled up to me, thrilled with affection.

— Keiki, I... — Sayuki stopped in mid-sentence.

— What's the matter?

— No, nothing, — the girl shook her head, — Thank you all for your help! I'll clean up the rest," Sayuki took hold of the handle of the bucket of water.

— Leave it, I myself, — I intercept the girl's hand, — It's heavy, so it would be better if I did it, — I explain my actions.

— Okay, — agrees Sayuki, — Be sure to close everything, — she says, handing me the key.

— Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, — I say goodbye to the girls.

— Should I wait for you? Mizuha asked.

— It's not worth it, you helped me so much today, — I reject my sister's offer, not wanting to take advantage of her kindness beyond measure.

After saying goodbye to the girls, I went to pour water out of the buckets. The muscles in this body were weak, which is why six-liter buckets, three-quarters full of water, quickly spent my stamina. Therefore, when I got to the place where the water is usually drained, I was pretty tired. In my native body, even twelve-liter buckets would not have had such an effect on me. After all, I somehow found time for the gym.

Returning to the club room, I stuffed the buckets into one of the metal lockers, which is reserved for household equipment.

Going to close the window before leaving, I pay attention to a strange object lying on the table. I come closer and see that it is an envelope, pressed down by some white cloth. Taking a handkerchief out of the back pocket of my trousers, I carefully take the envelope with it. The long-established habit of not leaving fingerprints on strange objects did not allow you to take the envelope with your bare hands. Of course, hardly anyone intended to frame an ordinary Japanese schoolboy, but I'm not going to get rid of a useful habit either.

On the front side of the envelope there was the following inscription:

"Dear Mr. Keiki Kiryu"

I see, so the letter is meant for me. Still being careful, I wrap my hand in a handkerchief and open the envelope and take out the letter itself.

Only one sentence was written on a snow-white sheet of A4 paper: "I love you." Neither explanations nor the sender's name are specified. It's funny, either this is a joke, or someone really wanted to make it clear about their feelings in this way. Yes, only a letter without a name has no value. Senseless paper damage. The person who wrote this is either extremely stupid or wants to play with me. In both cases, I don't see the point in wasting time on such a girl. Crumpling the letter, I pay attention to a piece of cloth. I take it by the edge with a handkerchief and shake it. Nothing fell out of it, but only the fabric unfolded and turned out to be not a piece of fabric at all, as I initially thought. White women's panties appeared in front of me.

That's it, the letter was just a lure, the enemy's goal was to get my fingers. Cleverly thought out, anyone else in my place would relax and take the underpants with their bare hands. Coupled with the victim's statement, this would be sufficient grounds for initiating a criminal case of harassment or even rape. They found an idiot, and I have not met with such attempts of substitutions. Only one thing confuses me: the enemy did not appear. Does he really want me to take them home? Hmm, on the one hand, it will be even more weighty proof if the evidence is found in my house. On the other hand, this is a clear miscalculation, because I can just throw them out, well, or burn them.

Although ... given the mores of the country in which I am, as well as the fact that the setup is aimed at a hormone-ridden schoolboy, any guy with a 99 percent probability would take the panties home and be proud of them as an incredible trophy. I would also show my friends. Subtly, subtly.

Wait a minute, who could Keiki cross the road to? If they want to shut me down, there must be a good reason for such an act. Benevolent Keiki just couldn't hurt anyone that much. He hasn't even rejected a single girl. Because no one confessed to him. If the enemy's goal is to extort money from me, then it's also past here. The guy was not rich and was sitting on the neck of his parents. Someone will not extort money for lunch in this way. The risk stupidly does not correlate with the possible benefit.

There is a dead end. In any case, you need to get rid of the panties. Although there are no traces of me on them, but their very presence can play against me. Then for starters I…

Achievement system activated by action

Achievement: Receiving a love letter

Reward: 1 coin (intra-system currency)

[The characteristics menu is open]

[Currency exchange function is open]

[The list of unfulfilled achievements has been replenished]

Lyat!

What kind of palmistry?! If I hadn't seen such inscriptions in the morning, I would have thought that the panties or the letter were smeared with hallucinogens.

Eh-h, also to deal with this!