After recalling the whole sequence of events, Kousaka sighed. Even he thought it was unusual. But he simply couldn’t stand his bare skin being touched. In addition, Kousaka was poor with girls who had a sense of femininity, like the one at the register. It wasn’t limited to women; he similarly disliked men who pushed their manliness to the forefront. He felt a similar sense of impurity from both of them. It sounds like something a girl entering puberty would say, but it really felt that way to him. During childhood, he thought his phobia would naturally be cured as he grew up, but in reality, it only got worse. At this rate I’ll never marry, to say nothing of making friends, he muttered to himself. — ◆ — When Kousaka was nine, he had a mother. Just before he turned ten, she left this world. It was judged an accident, but Kousaka still suspected it to be a suicide. She was a beautiful woman. Cultured and resourceful, with good taste in music and movies. Apparently she was an Electone instructor before she met Kousaka’s father. It was a relatively small class, but reputable, and quite a few students came from far away to take it.