Inou-Battle wa Nichijou-kei no Naka de - Volume 4 - Chapter 6

Chapter 6: A Duel, Though Otherwise, an Infraction

Route of Origin: the power to return any physical entity to the way it was meant to be. Andou was the one who first chose to describe my power in those terms. It was a very positive and rather optimistic way of perceiving its capabilities—unsurprising, considering that’s simply the sort of person Andou was.

If I were to describe my power in my own terms, though, I would call it something different. I would call it the power to reject that which was not how it was meant to be—the power to impose my own subjective viewpoint upon others and remake them in the image I thought was right.

It was, indeed, a power fueled by pure arrogance. An unsightly power, one perfectly suited for an inexperienced and immature girl like me.

After Andou and I had our disagreement, the literary club was split into two factions: those who thought we should eliminate our powers, and those who thought we should keep them. Or so I say, but in truth, the majority of the conflict took the form of Andou and I arguing incessantly. The other three more or less stood by and watched over us as our debates grew more and more heated with each passing day.

That said, if I had to say which of our positions the three of them seemed more inclined to support, I would theorize that they were on my side. In short, what I’ve been characterizing as a long-term argument could just as easily have been described as the four of us trying to convince Andou to see our point of view. Trying and failing, unfortunately—no matter how we tried to make him see reason, Andou clung to his perspective with stubborn tenacity. Finally, our conflict escalated from verbal to physical. Our commonplace lives of conversation in the clubroom shifted into a supernatural battle fought with extraordinary powers.

“I would like to give you one last chance to apologize and concede the argument, Andou,” I threateningly stated.

“That’s my line, Sayumi,” replied Andou.

We squared off against each other out behind the school’s gymnasium, where we were unlikely to be interrupted by any passersby. Frankly, I can’t say for sure who was responsible for this particular escalation. Words were exchanged, inflammatory provocations were flung, and before we knew it, we’d somehow reached an agreement: we would fight, and the winner’s opinion would be declared correct.

“Mwa ha ha! Now this is more like it! I’ve always preferred to keep these things nice and simple. We’ll bring an end to this debate with our fists!” muttered Andou. Then he started shadowboxing, making little “Fwsh, fwsh” noises with his mouth to make the strikes seem more impressive. I’m afraid to say they needed the help.

“Andou?”

“Yeah? What, did you take one look at my practice punches and chicken out?”

“Your stance is backward. Generally speaking, right-handed boxers stand with their left side forward.”

“Wha—?! W-Well, it’s my fighting style, and I stand like this!” sputtered Andou as his face flushed bright red.

Ugh. This is draining my motivation to go through with this.

“This is a really bad idea, Juu! Let’s call it off, okay?” said Hatoko from the sidelines, her concern readily apparent. She, Tomoyo, and Chifuyu were all present, of course. This showdown would determine the future course of the whole literary club, so it wouldn’t do for any of them to be absent. “You know you don’t stand a chance against Sayumi!” Hatoko insisted.

“Mwa ha ha! Don’t you worry, Hatoko,” said Andou. “You don’t think a man like me would take on a foe as mighty as her without a plan, do you? I stayed up all night figuring out—”

“A way to beat her?” Hatoko guessed hopefully.

“—the names of all the special attacks I’ll be using today!” concluded Andou.

“So...you’re doomed...” Hatoko moaned.

“And thanks to that all-nighter,” Andou began, “...I feel pretty sick, actually...”

“You’re really, really doomed!”

Their conversation was making it very clear that neither of them were taking this especially seriously, and I decided to step in and bring it to a close. “Let’s go over the rules before we begin,” I said. “There will be no time limit. The use of weapons of all varieties is banned. Our arena is the area behind the gymnasium, and nowhere else. Finally, a victor will be declared when one combatant gives up.”

“And finally finally, any and all use of our powers is permitted,” added Andou in a tone that told me he wasn’t about to accept any protest on that front.

“The other three would be one thing, but banning or permitting our powers hardly makes a difference in this sort of contest,” I noted.

“Oh, but it does,” said Andou. “It turns this from an ordinary battle into a supernatural battle! That’s a totally different genre!”

I sighed with exasperation. “Tomoyo? Please give us the sign to begin.” We’d asked Tomoyo to serve as our referee. The conclusion to our match was hopelessly forgone, and I wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible.

“Okay, here goes,” Tomoyo said, then glanced over at my foe. “Hey, Andou? Be sure to give up before you get really badly hurt.” At long last, she raised a hand overhead and brought it down as she shouted, “Begin!”

Our duel was a go. Andou made the first move, raising his right arm before him. “I am he who conquers chaos,” he chanted, eyes closed as if he were praying.

I recalled him calling that little spell of his the “Malediction of Unleashing.” Andou couldn’t use his power without making a big show of reciting his chant first...or rather, that was the unimaginably idiotic story he’d dreamed up for himself. Generally speaking, though, he did stick to reciting it before he brought out his black flames. Except for when he forgot. Which was often.

In any case, it seemed that he had yet to completely settle on his chant’s phrasing. Every time he said it, the particulars of the wording shifted. Still, Andou kept chanting away with remarkable enthusiasm, while I, on the other hand, took the chance to close the gap between us. Needless to say, I had no intention of allowing him to finish.

“You really closed your eyes in the middle of a fight? Are you genuinely that stupid?” I asked.

“C-Crap!” Andou shouted.

I see, then. He really is that stupid after all. I grabbed his collar with my right hand, took hold of his wrist with my left, and stepped in to throw him off-balance. Then, the moment his weight had shifted onto one of his legs, I swept it out from beneath him. In judo terms, I’d executed a sweeping leg throw.

“Gaaaaaah!” Andou wailed as he slammed into the ground, back-first. My technique couldn’t have possibly landed more cleanly. He was weak. Pathetically so.

“If this were a judo match, I would have just won decisively,” I noted.

“Mngaaah,” Andou moaned. “Ow... Ooow...”

“I take it you understand now, Andou? You have absolutely no hope of—”

“Oh god, I scraped my elbow! I’m bleeding! I’m bleediiing!”

I rolled my eyes. Andou wasn’t listening—he was too busy rolling around in agony. Loud, obnoxious agony, and though it was barely a scrape, I did feel somewhat guilty for making him bleed, so I decided in spite of myself to use Route of Origin to mend his wounds. I took a step forward.

“Gotcha!” shouted Andou, his grimace of pain shifting into a triumphant grin in the blink of an eye as he leapt to his feet. “Know this—you’ve lost because you were arrogant enough to think to heal your enemy’s wounds!”

It was a fake-out. A trap. His unseemly squealing was all a ploy to lure me closer to him, and I’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. Deception is hardly praiseworthy, but I must admit that I was just as unimpressed with myself for having been deceived. However, there was just one flaw to his stratagem.

“You’re so slow,” I sighed. Andou had tried to grab hold of me, but his movements were so sluggish that I had all the time in the world to prepare for him. And so, as Andou stepped forward, I kicked his leg right out from under him. Another judo technique—in this case, a plain foot sweep. And, with the leg he’d been trying to place his weight on suddenly in the air, Andou once again lost balance and collapsed to the ground with a shriek.

“Give up, Andou. There’s no point in dragging this out,” I said.

“No way...” Andou groaned. “It’s too early for you to declare victory! I still have a trump card up my sleeve!”

“Whatever that trump card may be, it doesn’t change the fact that you won’t punch me, no matter what happens. Or will you?” I replied.

Andou’s breath caught, and he fell silent. It hadn’t escaped my notice that he’d tried to grab me during his little sneak attack, not punch me. That was the better part of why it had been so easy to counter him. The difference in our abilities was only one of the reasons he could never defeat me—the larger factor was the simple fact that, apparently, Andou Jurai could not bring himself to hit a girl.

“I won’t tell you to discard all thoughts of chivalry and come at me with everything you have,” I said. “Showing a degree of care for women in that respect is by no means a bad thing. In fact, I happen to appreciate that gentlemanly side of yours. That being said, if you’re incapable of attacking me, then there’s no point in carrying on this contest any longer. You have no hope for victory. Admit defeat now and spare us both the trouble.”

Andou didn’t say a word. He simply heaved himself to his feet, and thrust out his arm again, taking up the same pose he’d been in moments earlier.

“I am he who conquers chaos!” Andou chanted once more. I was speechless. It seemed our duel was to continue after all, so I charged forward, once again closing the gap and flinging him to the ground before he could finish his invocation.

I still didn’t understand at that point. I had yet to catch on to his true objective in the slightest.

☆

The day after my get-well visit, Sayumi didn’t show up at the literary club. It wasn’t an unexcused absence, to be fair—she’d sent a text saying “I’ll be absent from club today” to all of our members (except for Chifuyu, who didn’t have a cell phone). Attendance wasn’t mandatory in our club to begin with, so it wasn’t like one of us being absent was particularly rare, but for some reason, I couldn’t help but assume that what happened between the two of us yesterday was the reason behind her missing the meeting. It felt like she was avoiding me.

“Aw. Sayumi’s not coming again today?” Chifuyu asked with a sad little frown. “I worked so hard to make this too,” she added, pulling something from her pocket and setting it down on the table.

According to the others, after I left for Sayumi’s house, the three of them had decided to fold a thousand paper cranes together. I took a look at Chifuyu’s item to find that it was...a piece of origami paper that had been folded twice, turning it into a triangle.

“Uh... Huh? What is this? A slice of pizza?” I asked.

“It’s a baby crane,” Chifuyu proudly declared.

“Oh. Since it’s, like, the first steps to fold a paper crane?”

“Right.”

“You didn’t want to finish it?”

“I got bored.”

“That sure didn’t take long! This is seriously the very start of the process! You folded it twice!”

“The first step is always the most important one.”

“You’re only supposed to say that about something that’s already finished, and only if turned out well!”

“The step you get bored on is always the most important one.”

I sighed. “Okay, I’ll admit, folding cranes does get a lot harder after this part.” I wasn’t very confident that I could successfully fold a paper crane without looking up a tutorial or something, so I couldn’t really blame her too harshly.

“Chifuyu was really excited at first, but she dropped out before I knew it,” said Hatoko, who was sitting off to the side.

“Folding a thousand cranes is, like, so innocent and pure and stuff, so we decided we’d help her. Boy, was that ever a mistake,” added Tomoyo.

“Do you think Sayumi will like it?” asked Chifuyu.

“You mean you’re actually planning on giving this to her...?” I said. “I hate to say this when you’re all excited and everything, but I’m pretty sure even Sayumi would have a hard time forcing a smile if she got a present like this.”

“What do you think she’d give me as a thank-you?”

“You’d expect her to return the favor for this? And wait, you’d only give it to her ’cause you wanted something in exchange?! How greedy are you?!”

“When it comes to these things, it’s the thought that matters.”

“You’re only allowed to say that if you’re the one getting the gift! Saying it when you’re the giver makes the whole thing feel totally insincere!”

In the end, I wasn’t able to convince Chifuyu that giving Sayumi her masterpiece, the baby crane, was a bad idea. Not gonna lie, though, I was sorta looking forward to seeing Sayumi’s reaction whenever that ended up happening.

“What’s going on with Sayumi, anyway? If she’s feeling better, then why wouldn’t she show up today?” Tomoyo asked, then turned to look at me. “Hey, Andou, how did Sayumi look yesterday?”

“She seemed pretty much fine to me,” I replied. “We had a whole conversation and everything. But, well...”

“But what?”

“Ah, nothing. Forget about it.”

Sayumi’s expression just before I left had suddenly flashed through my mind. It was an expression steeped in a shadow of regret—or frustration, maybe? Thinking back on it made me feel a weird sort of pressure in my chest. It was one of those vague feelings of discomfort that I just couldn’t pin down, but before I had the time to start really brooding on it, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I checked to see who was calling me, then stepped over to the corner of the club room to pick up.

“Ah, Andou? Heyo, it’s me!”

“Maiya, right?” I replied.

“Yup, yup! Short time, no see!”

Sayumi’s sister had called me, much to my surprise. I’d given her my contact info the day before, sure, but I certainly hadn’t been expecting her to use it so soon.

“Do you need something?” I asked.

“No, but you might! You forgot your student handbook at our house yesterday. I found it lying in the entryway.”

Huh? I checked the breast pocket I always kept my student handbook in, and lo and behold, it was missing. I really had forgotten it at her house, and I’d somehow managed to not notice over the course of a full day.

“I just noticed it myself, actually!” Maiya continued. “Too bad—if I’d found it this morning, I could’ve given it to my sister to pass off to you... So, what do you think? Should I give it to her when I can, or what?”

“Ah, yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

“Roger that!”

“Oh, right. Hey, Maiya?” I began. This seemed like a good opportunity to clear up the doubts that had been weighing on me. “How was Sayumi acting after I went home yesterday?”

“Huh...? Just like usual, basically. Her cold was pretty much gone, so she ate dinner like normal. I guess she went to bed early to be on the safe side, but she was all healthy again this morning.”

“Huh. Okay...”

“Why, did something happen?” Maiya asked, then paused. “Ah! Don’t tell me—did things get spicy between the two of you after I left? Squee!”

Ha ha ha! Welp! Sayumi’s sister really is sort of a pain in the rear, isn’t she?! “Nah, nothing like that,” I replied. “It’s just...I think I touched on a sore subject with her or something, I guess.”

“Ooh, I get it now. Sayu is pretty sensitive about a buncha stuff. Like, she’s all straitlaced about so many things, y’know? Anyway, got any clues about what set her off?”

“I wish I did,” I sighed. “We were looking at the yearbook you brought in, and I said something about how I hadn’t known she was on the student council.”

“The student council...?” Maiya repeated. Something about her tone sounded distinctly different all of a sudden, and I decided to dig deeper.

“What? Does that ring any bells?”

“Umm... Ah, gee, I dunno. Should I even talk about this? Sayu did tell me not to spread it around too much...but she didn’t say to never spread it around, so it’s probably fine, right? Yup, that’s definitely how she phrased it! Okay! I’m gonna just say that makes this fine! Listen up, Andou!”

“I really don’t think I should after that little speech!” I think Maiya might be a little too free-spirited sometimes! Doesn’t she care about her big sister’s privacy?!

“Seriously, it’s probably fine! I have faith in you, Andou,” said Maiya. Which was nice to hear and all, but considering we’d only just met the night before, I couldn’t help but think it came across as a little insincere.

I knew that the right thing to do was probably putting my foot down and refusing to listen. Unfortunately, though, I couldn’t resist the tempting allure of sating my own curiosity, and I didn’t stop her from telling me. I was just too invested in figuring out what had caused Sayumi to make that face.

When Sayumi was in middle school, she was apparently as ideal of a student council president as you could possibly hope for. Her conduct was exemplary, and her grades were exceptional. It wouldn’t even be much of a stretch to call her perfect.

No matter how unreasonable the task set before her, she would solve it in a flash, proving to everyone around her how much she’d earned her position. The way she worked herself to the bone for the sake of her peers’ school experience didn’t escape her teachers’ notice either. They trusted her implicitly and held her up as the epitome of a model student. She was as perfect and praiseworthy as could be.

“And that’s why she had a liiittle bit of trouble with the other StuCo members, see,” Maiya explained.

It was a pretty straightforward story: Sayumi expected the same sort of perfection that she was capable of from the people around her. She believed that the other members of the council were capable of overcoming the same hurdles she could, and she did her best to convince them to try to do so.

“I guess the other members were sorta part of the problem too. Most of them only joined ’cause they thought it’d look good on their records, and they weren’t really interested in putting the work in...but like, c’mon, Sayu’s gotta be the only girl out there who’d take a middle school’s student council that seriously.”

I wanted to side with Sayumi at that point, honestly...but I had to admit that, from an objective perspective, both sides of the story were probably in the wrong. I also hadn’t been there and had nothing to do with any of what had happened, of course, so it wasn’t really my place to judge to begin with.

“Sayu can just be so stubborn, y’know? She’s really not the compromising type. And I know she doesn’t mean it this way, but sometimes when she’s so perfect at her job, it starts to feel like she’s making fun of you for not doing better yourself. That’d just make the other members more upset with her, but of course, that wouldn’t matter to her at all...”

I’m sure Sayumi was irritated. After all, her fellow council members were totally uninterested in giving their jobs their all—totally unwilling to buckle down and get their work done. From their perspective, though, Sayumi was probably a meddler who couldn’t read the room and was breaking down their social circle as a result. She pursued perfection, and that left everyone around her in the dust in the process.

Still, in spite of how uncomfortable the atmosphere in the student council must have been for her, Sayumi didn’t so much as consider shirking her responsibilities. She stuck it out, doing as perfect a job as ever until her term as the president came to an end.

“Kinda incredible, isn’t it? If I’d been in that situation, I’m sure I would’ve ended up running to the teachers in tears and begging them to let me quit! ’Course, I’d also never join the student council in the first place,” added Maiya. “But yeah, even Sayu got a bit depressed before it was over. The thing is, after she thought it all through and tried to figure out what went wrong, she ended up deciding that ‘the cause of the friction between me and the other members was my inability to effectively communicate my intentions to them. Clearly, I still lacked the experience to serve as the president of an organization.’ Like, c’mon, girl, what corporation are you making an apology speech to?”

I had to agree with that one. Sayumi really was so serious about these things, it was a problem.

“Sayu’s a pretty positive person on the whole, y’know? Like, she regrets stuff, sure, and she thinks about her mistakes, but she only does it ’cause she thinks it’ll help her not screw up in the same way next time. She figured that even though it hadn’t worked out in middle school, that would just help her do better in her high school’s council.”

At that point, I just had to jump in and ask a question. “Huh? Wait, you mean Sayumi said she wanted to be on the student council again in high school?”

“Yup. She talked about it before she started at your school. Said she was gonna try to be the president.”

“But...”

“I know, right...? I’m her sister, and even I don’t get it. It’s like she just changed her mind for no reason. It’s not that she lost the election either—I heard she didn’t even try to run!”

The more I heard, the less I understood. Why hadn’t Sayumi ended up as the student council president? I knew that I was in no position to admit this, but I couldn’t deny that a job like that would’ve been a way more valuable use of her time than working as the president of a do-nothing group like the literary club.

We said our goodbyes, and as I walked back over to the table, Tomoyo looked up at me. “Who was it?” she asked.

“Sayumi’s little sister,” I replied.

Tomoyo gave me a look. “You swapped contact info with Sayumi’s little sis?”

“S-So what? Who cares?” I countered, flinching away from her gaze. “Anyway, remind me, Tomoyo, where’s the student council room, again?”

“The council room? On the fifth floor. Why’re you going there, though?”

“To see Kudou. I’ll be right back.”

The student council room was, well, perfectly normal, actually. There were a few bookcases with documents and stuff filed away in them, and there was a big, long table in the center of the room. Kudou was the only one inside, and she was sitting in the chair farthest away from the door—the president’s reserved seat, I imagined.

“I-It’s been a while, Andou,” said Kudou as I walked in.

“Yeah, I guess,” I replied.

“Umm... W-Well, come in, then! Have a seat.”

With our awkward greeting out of the way, I took a seat in front of her. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but the atmosphere still felt really uncomfortable between us. I’d sent her a text in advance, and she’d replied that she was alone today so I could come talk with her, but, like...I just couldn’t quite figure out how I was supposed to act around her, I guess.

Some pretty strange circumstances had led to us kinda sorta dating for a brief period, and it had seemed like she’d forgiven me for all of that weirdness, but ever since then, I hadn’t been able to figure out what we were to each other. Like, were we friends, or what? I would’ve been totally fine with that, to be clear, but if I was reading the situation wrong, then having an underclassman like me act all friendly all of a sudden would’ve probably been really obnoxious in Kudou’s eyes. Man. How do I deal with this?

“Umm, Kudou?” I eventually said. In the end, I decided that just coming straight out and asking would be the best way to handle the situation. “Please be honest—what do you think about me?”

Kudou paused for a moment, eyes wide...

“Huuuuuuh?!”

...then she flinched backward so dramatically, she just about tumbled right off her chair. “Wh-Wh...Where the hell did that come from?! Wh-What do I think about you...? That’s what I want to ask you... Wait, no! Wh-What are you after?! My money?! My good name?!”

“C-Calm down, Kudou!”

“I-I don’t think anything about you at all, for your information!”

“Oh, really...? I mean, that works, I guess.”

“Ah,” said Kudou, pausing once more. “I-I mean, umm...right. It’s not that I don’t have any feelings about you whatsoever... If I had to say one way or the other, I’d say that I’m not entirely disinterested...and I’m not angry about what happened between us before at all anymore... So, umm,” Kudou muttered incoherently, pointedly refusing to make eye contact. “I d-don’t hate you...”

I let out a sigh of relief. That’s good to hear. As long as she doesn’t straight-up hate me, I think I can deal with this.

“A-Anyway, what are you here for, Andou?” asked Kudou.

“I came to ask you about Sayumi, actually,” I replied.

Kudou blinked. “About Takanashi...?”

“So, you want to know why Takanashi didn’t become the student council president, huh?” said Kudou, her eyes cast down in a sort of exhausted-looking manner. I’d managed to roughly explain the situation without bringing up any of Sayumi’s personal history from back in middle school. “Should I be offended, Andou? Are you trying to say that Takanashi’s more suited to being the president than I am?”

“Huh...? Oh! No, that’s not how I meant it at all!” I replied in a fluster.

“I was kidding,” said Kudou with a sardonic chuckle. Then she started telling her story in an almost nostalgic tone. “Takanashi and I were, well...I suppose you could say we were rivals, or at least something close to that. I know this might sound like I’m bragging, but ever since we started high school, the two of us have been battling for first and second place on our tests.”

“That’s incredible,” I interjected.

“We were never particularly close, but I think we both considered each other rivals. I certainly saw her that way, at the very least,” Kudou continued. Then she told me how, as the school year wore on and everyone got used to their new environment, before they knew it, all the students and teachers around them had internalized the idea that either Takanashi Sayumi or Kudou Mirei would end up becoming the next student council president. It wasn’t like either of them had tried to spread that idea around—it had just come about naturally.

Our high school chose its student council members during their second year. Specifically, prospective candidates would campaign for their positions on the council during the latter half of their second year in high school, and those who were chosen would take up their positions on the council itself during their third year. The president was no exception to this system.

“I wanted to be the president,” Kudou explained. “I think Takanashi did too. Everyone in our grade thought so. But then, in the end...she didn’t even run for the position. I won the election by a landslide, yes, but only because Takanashi wasn’t there to run against me. It wasn’t a victory I’ve ever felt proud of. The other candidates were all just throwing their names into the running for kicks, basically—none of them were serious about winning.”

Kudou looked a little sad, almost. It seemed to me that she’d wanted to face off against Sayumi—against her rival—for the president’s position.

“So...do you know why she didn’t run?” I asked.

“I’ve always wondered that myself,” said Kudou. “Recently, though, I’ve finally developed a theory.”

I gasped. “Wh-What is it...?” I asked, so invested I found myself rising partially out of my chair.

Kudou offered a short, simple answer. “I assume it was her power’s fault.”

I felt my breath catch in my throat.

“Your powers awakened about half a year ago, right? Well, that lines up perfectly with the student council’s election season,” said Kudou.

I’d heard that Kudou’s power, Grateful Robber, had awakened sometime in April this year. The five of us, on the other hand, obtained ours in September of the previous year. The week after our school’s cultural festival, specifically.

That’s right. I can’t believe I didn’t realize it sooner. We got our powers around the beginning of the second half of Sayumi’s second year in high school—precisely the period when she would’ve been running for the student council.

“In all likelihood...I think Takanashi decided to prioritize her relationships with you, the members of the literary club, over her chance to become the president. Don’t you think? I mean, I’m sure that awakening to crazy supernatural powers out of nowhere was pretty stressful for everyone,” said Kudou.

I couldn’t bring myself to reply, so a moment later, she spoke up once more. “I...was alone. I was all on my own after I obtained my power. I agonized over it because I was on my own—but of course, I’m sure it goes both ways. I bet that going through all that in a group meant having your fair share of troubles and conflicts as well, right?”

“So, she did it for us...?” I whispered.

“That feels like a sort of patronizing way of putting it, but essentially, yes,” said Kudou. Once again, I found myself speechless. “The way I would put it is that she chose a path forward as the president of the literary club, rather than a path as the president of the student council,” she added with a smile.

Kudou’s explanation was convincing, no question about it, but something about it all still made me feel sort of sad. From Sayumi’s perspective, her power’s awakening probably felt like a sudden and unexpected accident, and that accident had forced her to give up on her dream...

No. That’s not right at all.

Something felt wrong. Very wrong. It didn’t take much self-reflection to figure out what either. I scanned back through my memories, stacking them up against Kudou’s theory, and I quickly realized something very important. That’s right—Kudou doesn’t know. She has no idea that Sayumi and I fought over what to do with our powers.

“Kudou,” I said after a moment of hesitation. “When exactly is the student council election held?”

“The applications stay open until the end of September,” said Kudou. “Candidates have the first half of October to campaign, then a chance to give their final speeches before the vote happens. Why do you ask?”

From the end of September to halfway through October. The dates lined up perfectly. That was the exact period when I’d had my conflict with Sayumi—when she’d suggested we do away with our powers and I’d objected. I’d argued with every ounce of stubborn persistence I could muster, over and over, and eventually even came to blows with her. I grimaced. Well, goddammit. 

It was all my fault after all!

Sayumi really had chosen her literary club presidency over the student council. In that sense, Kudou wasn’t wrong. But this was Sayumi we were talking about. If she’d put her mind to it, she could’ve easily managed both concurrently. Or at least, she could’ve if I’d kept my stupid mouth shut!

That’s right... It was me. I’m the one who stole Sayumi’s dream from her. My selfishness snatched away her chance to overcome her regrets from middle school—to put all those lessons she’d learned from her failure to use. And what did I go and say to her yesterday?

“Why didn’t you join the student council in high school?”

“Hey, Andou! Where’re you—” shouted Kudou, but before she could finish, I sprinted out of the student council room without even pausing to say goodbye.