Chapter 53: Yazaki Hitomi's Guidance

Yazaki Hitomi paused in thought for a moment, a frown creasing her brow as she tried to navigate the strange, unsettling conversation. “To compare it to a commodity… that’s a bit extreme, don’t you think, Tsuko-chan? The world is made up of men and women. Isn’t it natural that both sides choose each other? That’s completely different from paying money to buy an object in a store, isn’t it?”

“You just said this wasn’t about some political feminist ideology, so this must be about your own personal feelings,” she continued, her tone shifting to one of gentle, maternal concern. “I don’t know why you’re thinking this way, but I assure you, it’s a mistaken view. Someday, Tsuko-chan, when you meet a boy you genuinely like, you’ll want to be noticed by him. You’ll want his attention. And that feeling… it’s a world away from being a product selected from a shelf.”

Yomikawa Tsuko shook her head, a small, almost imperceptible movement. “Hitomi-obasan, with all due respect, that’s sidestepping the core issue. Even after marriage, women are still subjected to the same assessing gazes, the same relentless comparisons, are they not? Why do women wear makeup, why do they strive for beauty? At the end of the day, when you strip away all the pretty justifications, isn’t it simply to attract the male gaze?”

Hearing this cold, clinical conclusion, Yazaki Hitomi’s own defensiveness flared. “That’s absolutely not the case! When women dress up, when we make ourselves beautiful, we’re also doing it to please ourselves! Looking pretty, wearing beautiful clothes… it makes you feel good, feel confident. The idea that it’s all for men… that’s the kind of arrogant, self-important nonsense that a lot of men like to believe.”

Yomikawa shook her head again, her voice remaining cold and detached. “The very concept of beauty, in a biological sense, was born with a purpose—an instrumental one. That is, to increase one’s own sexual attractiveness in order to gain greater reproductive benefits. Consider flowers. Many people believe that the beauty of a flower exists for its own sake. But a flower is, in fact, nothing more than the plant’s reproductive organ. Its vibrant colors and alluring fragrance are merely tools, sophisticated advertisements designed to attract insects for the crucial business of pollination.”

“It is the same with animals. Many people find a peacock’s fanned tail a thing of profound beauty, but it is, in reality, nothing more than a crass, biological billboard, a method to attract a peahen. Examples like this are countless in nature. Whether in the plant kingdom or the animal kingdom, whether it’s fish, birds, mammals, or other species, the pursuit of beauty, in its raw, primal form, has only one, singular purpose: reproduction.”

“Humans, for all our pretensions, are animals too. A woman’s pursuit of beauty carries the same, inescapable biological imperative. When you say that women don’t dress up to please men, Hitomi-obasan, it’s because the ‘men’ you are referring to are a specific, curated subset – that is, men other than one’s own husband or chosen partner, correct?”

“For an unmarried woman, the men she is not actively trying to please are likely those with poor economic prospects or undesirable personality traits – men who fall outside her carefully considered pool of potential mates.”

“On my way here, in the subway, I conducted a quick search on my phone. There is a large and growing body of experimental evidence that proves that in the presence of a beautiful woman, men become acutely more conscious of their own economic status. Men with good financial standing become more confident, more passionate, when faced with a beautiful woman. Whereas men with poor financial standing tend to display classic signs of inferiority, timidity, and social awkwardness. They often cannot even make direct eye contact.”

“This is sufficient, empirical proof that beauty and sexual attractiveness are positively correlated with an individual’s perceived value in the mating market. Whether an individual woman chooses to acknowledge it or not, beauty is, in essence, a tool, a means to the end of increasing one’s sexual attractiveness. This is an immutable, ancient and biologically undeniable truth.”

Yazaki Hitomi was utterly, completely, dumbfounded. She stammered, “B-b-but…,” for a long, painful moment, unable to form a single, coherent word. She had initially thought that Yomikawa Tsuko was simply venting, annoyed by the leering stares of boys at school, or perhaps harassed by some creep on the street. She never would have imagined that the girl would, or even could, rattle off a whole series of cold, hard, and deeply unsettling scientific theories to support her viewpoint.

However, her dignity as an elder, as the designated ‘wise counsel’ in this situation, would not allow her to show weakness. She frantically searched her mind, and finally, grasped onto a single, desperate rebuttal. “If we’re discussing this from a purely academic, scientific perspective, then perhaps… perhaps you are right, Tsuko-chan. But throughout all of human history, there have been countless stories of profound, undying love. A love that has nothing to do with beauty, or reproduction, or any of those cold, biological factors. In those situations, can you still, in good conscience, say that a woman exists as a mere commodity?”

“And another thing. Do you dress up to attract a desirable man, Tsuko-chan? By any objective measure, you are already exceptional enough on your own. Leaving aside your striking looks, your family background and your formidable intellect far, far exceed those of your peers. And yet, you, too, care about beauty. Your skirt is even shorter than mine was when I was in your year!”

“When faced with the gazes of others, whether they be male or female, to immediately debase yourself, to view yourself as a product… that is surely, fundamentally wrong. Beauty, wisdom, honesty, justice… these are all excellent, admirable human qualities. Are you suggesting that honesty and wisdom are also merely attributes of a commodity to be bought and sold?”

Beauty, an excellent quality? Yomikawa thought, a flicker of cold amusement in her mind. Isn’t there an old saying, “There are no ugly women, only lazy ones”? Beauty is not a quality; it is a project.

Of all the so-called excellent human qualities Yazaki Hitomi had listed, in Yomikawa’s opinion, only one was correct: wisdom.

If she continued to argue, to press the point, she might arouse suspicion. In a moment of uncharacteristic impulse, she had revealed far too much of her inner thoughts, her true, alien perspective. Now that she had calmed down a little, she realized her mistake. Although Yazaki Hitomi was also a woman, and older, she was, at the end of the day, just an ordinary person. It was impossible for her to truly understand her thoughts, her feelings.

It’s like trying to explain the concept of ice to an insect that lives and dies in a single summer. A pointless and ultimately futile exercise.

“I see,” Yomikawa Tsuko said, a warm, relieved smile suddenly, and with practiced ease, spreading across her face. “In that case, I suppose I was just… thinking too extremely. Thank you for your guidance, Obasan.”

“Right? Right?” Yazaki Hitomi beamed, completely taken in by the performance, a look of smug, self-satisfied wisdom on her face. “Well, it’s only natural for someone your age to have all sorts of strange, complicated thoughts, Tsuko-chan. You shouldn’t worry about it too much. Besides, only mediocre people go unnoticed and un-envied. You’re so beautiful, Tsuko-chan. Being noticed and praised all the time… it must make you feel good, mustn’t it?”

Noticed and praised?

What possible meaning, what conceivable value, is there in the notice and praise of a pack of fools?

It’s all just… empty, meaningless noise.

If not for the absolute, tactical necessity of maintaining her disguise, she would not deign to maintain Senpai’s style of dress for a single moment longer.

“I’m alright. Not nearly as beautiful as you, Hitomi-obasan,” Yomikawa Tsuko said, deftly deflecting the compliment. “I think I’ll go wander around the gym downstairs for a bit, so I won’t disturb your work any longer.”

Truly believing that she had successfully counseled her troubled girl, Yazaki Hitomi was now positively glowing with self-satisfaction. “Don’t be such a stranger, saying you’re ‘disturbing’ me! Obasan is always happy to offer little Tsuko-chan some guidance and wisdom. Oh, and if you want to try some climbing, just ask one of the staff members for help. They’ll get you set up.”

“I will.”

Pushing the office door open, Yomikawa Tsuko let the pleasant, accommodating smile drop from her face like a stone. She passed through the quiet corridor and re-entered the main climbing gym.

There were even fewer customers today than the last time she had come. A quick, sweeping glance revealed fewer than ten people in the entire cavernous space. It was a weekday, after all. People with such… esoteric… hobbies were likely at their tedious jobs.

Gazing up at the high, intimidating rock walls, Yomikawa called over a staff member, informing them that she wanted to give it a try. The staff here, she noted, likely all knew her as the owner’s niece. A young, cheerful female employee led her to the locker room and helped her change into a set of proper climbing clothes.

A pair of short, form-fitting athletic shorts that fully exposed the rounded curve of her buttocks and her pale, straight, and surprisingly powerful legs. A black, semi-fitted t-shirt that outlined the graceful, athletic curves of her upper body. The outfit was functionally similar to her P.E. uniform, just a different color, and the style, she had to admit, was far more flattering.

Returning to the main gym, she immediately noticed a few of the older male patrons, their gazes beginning to drift, almost uncontrollably, in her direction, their eyes lingering with a pathetic intensity on her legs. A wave of profound, weary annoyance washed over her.

She ignored their intrusive gazes. While efficiently tying her long hair up into a high, practical ponytail, she stood still and allowed the female employee to expertly fasten the safety harness around her waist and thighs. I wonder, she thought, her expression a mask of cool, detached curiosity, if Kishida Masayoshi’s crude, simplistic method of emotional management will have any discernible effect on… this.