Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [33]

2:00 PM.

By the time Kitahara Takeru arrived at his usual fishing spot with Tiny, his border collie, a small elderly man was already seated and casting.

“Any luck yet?” Kitahara asked as he approached.

The old man wore an off-white bucket hat, his frame frail but his eyes sharp and clear with the gleam of wisdom — the kind that only came from years of weathering life’s storms. Deep wrinkles carved across his face, but those sunken eyes still shone with focus.

“No fish. But I did haul up a corpse,” the old man grumbled, clearly displeased.

Whether it was because he’d fished up a corpse or didn’t catch any fish, Kitahara wasn’t sure.

Knowing him, probably more the latter.

“Wow, you really can catch everything except fish, huh?” Kitahara teased.

This wasn’t the first time. The old guy had fished up a shoe, a toy model, a blow-up doll, even a snake. And now… a body.

“Scram, scram,” the old man snapped. “Like you ever catch anything!”

Kitahara snorted. “I checked my horoscope today — said it's my lucky day. I even put on aquamarine earrings just for the extra luck boost.”

Hearing this, the old man quickly pulled out his phone and checked his own fortune.

“Ominous.”

Bullshit.

Horoscopes? Not even dogs believe in that crap.

Still, he tucked the phone away, scoffing, “Hmph. People still believe in that garbage?”

But in the back of his mind, he was already wondering if he should pick up something in his lucky color, too — just for peace of mind.

Kitahara took a seat, rigged up his setup — a 5+3 line configuration with a size 10 Ise hook — and flicked his rod out. After adjusting the float, he filled a bucket with water and started mixing bait.

“Hey, Kitahara, my buddy — well, really just one buddy — gave me this new fishing rod today. No clue if it’s any good. Wanna take a look?”

With a glance, Kitahara immediately recognized it — silver-gray and blue-violet hues with tiger stripes across the shaft.

Daiwa Ichigeki Mirai. Legendary for carp and bighead.

“The model name is literally etched onto the rod. Who are you trying to fool?” Kitahara rolled his eyes.

He knew what this geezer was doing — flaunting it, hoping Kitahara would be jealous.

Tch. Whatever. Not impressed.

Just as he was about to cast his bait, the old man piped up again:
“Baiting the spot, right? Here, let me lend you my bait boat.”

“Large-capacity chamber, holds up to four pounds of chum. One-button cruise mode, set coordinates and—”

“You caught anything with it?” Kitahara interrupted, already annoyed by the sales-pitch tone.

The old man: “......”

You’re going to die alone with that attitude.

His cheerful mood deflated in an instant.

Which made Kitahara happy.

But not for long.

...

“I swear to god, I am fishing here!”

An hour later, Kitahara glared at his motionless rod, then at the fish right in front of him — close enough to grab — spitting water like a fool.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” he exploded. “This is just disrespectful at this point!”

The fish, unbothered, kept spitting bubbles like some senile old man.

Kitahara felt his lungs bursting with rage.

Finally, even Tiny couldn’t take it anymore. The dog chomped down, pulled the fish out, and dropped it right in front of Kitahara.

“Even the dog caught one! And you didn’t! Bwahahahaha!”

The old man burst out laughing, baring every single one of his remaining teeth.

“Quit laughing. You didn’t catch anything either!” Kitahara shot back.

“What’s the point of dropping thousands on fancy rods? All show, no skill.”

That one hit home. The old man’s face turned red, nostrils flaring like a bull.

Huff, huff—

He was visibly breaking down.

You can’t just go saying the truth like that!

Everyone knows lies don’t hurt — truth cuts like a blade.

Kitahara picked up the fish and smacked it twice.

Each slap was punctuated with a scolding:
“Still spitting bubbles, huh? Wanna try that again?!”

“Let me get a few hits in too.”

The old man, thinking about how he’d dragged himself here at dawn and hadn’t even caught a shrimp, was fuming.

“Here.”

Kitahara tossed him the fish.

The old man gave it two solid slaps, then, as the fish opened its mouth, spat right into it — a big ol’ glob of old-man phlegm.

Then he chucked the fish back into the water with a splash.

Kitahara and Tiny just stared, stunned.

First it gets smacked senseless, then it gets used as a spittoon.

What the hell even was that?

“Chronicles of a Fish Who Swallowed Spit”?

You don’t even see other people as people, and now you’re doing it to fish too?

“I’m done. Let’s go,” Kitahara muttered.

He suddenly had zero desire to keep fishing.

Packing up his gear, he figured he’d go home, take a nice hot shower, and then find Eriri.

“I’ll give you a ride,” the old man offered. “No point fishing here alone anyway.”

Totally not because he couldn’t catch anything.

“I think this reservoir has bad feng shui,” the old man muttered as he gathered his gear, placing blame where it clearly belonged.

“C’mon, with our skills, how could we not catch something here?”

Kitahara nodded sagely. “I was thinking the same.”

“What a garbage place. I’m never coming back.”

“I found a new spot recently. Heard the fish are practically leaping out of the water.”

“Oh yeah? For real?”

“Would I lie to you?”

Tiny, watching the two men with their arms over each other’s shoulders, blaming everything and everyone but themselves, gave them a long, deadpan dog stare.

Humans, man. Can’t fish? Blame the water.

As they walked back, they passed a girl wearing a baseball cap who was also fishing.

Both glanced at her rod.

A toy rod.

They laughed.

“That thing’ll catch fish?” the old man scoffed.

“She’s probably just here to play,” Kitahara chuckled. “She doesn’t even have a bucket.”

“I’m thinking of trying the Ichigeki Sakura next time.”

“My take? Not as good as the Guangwei Longyun.”

They’d barely walked a few more steps when—
SPLOOSH! SPLASH! — the sound of fish thrashing in the water.

Kitahara and the old man snapped their heads around, stunned.

Tiny glanced at the girl… then at his own owner.
He didn’t say a word. But he didn’t have to.

The girl had, with a toy rod, reeled in two fish.

Kitahara and the old man: (〃ﾟAﾟ) (ﾟДﾟ≡ﾟдﾟ)

They stared at their own rods…

Then at hers.

And the silence between them was deafening.

No, seriously… WHY?!

“Yes!”

The girl threw a tiny white fist in the air and did a quick little bounce on the balls of her feet, repeating it several times in a celebratory rhythm.

Then she pulled out a plastic bag from her pocket, stuffed both fish inside, and was ready to head home — planning to have her older brother cook them for their dad.

But just as she turned—

She locked eyes with Kitahara.

She froze.

And for a moment, the two of them just stood there — staring.

Big eyes on big eyes.

---

T/N: OH ITS KEI?

This is a fan translation of 不是说只拿我当替身的吗？by 雪碧加冰. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!