Seishun Buta Yarou Series - Volume 13 - Chapter 1.3

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With Christmas over, Santas, reindeer, and decorated trees vanished from the streets, replaced with end-of-year jitters that swept in on a cold front.

Everyone nervously began to wrap up unfinished business before the new year came. Hunched up against the cold, people walked briskly. There was a vague sense of panic in the air, like something was hot on their heels.

It was like this every year.

The only real difference this time was how much people were talking about the dreaming hashtag.

News reports on the connectivity issues had brought it into the limelight. Coverage shifted to the variety shows, with more stories rolling out on a daily basis.

Serious commentators discussed some high school girls’ claims that their dreams had come true and made earnest inquiries into the seemingly occult.

Rational minds would call this silly, but whether they had nothing better to discuss or they simply found it earned them unexpected ratings, the shows were spending more and more time on the subject.

The hashtag was becoming more prominent around Sakuta as well. Not a day went by without him hearing someone talking about it.

Wednesday, December 28.

It was the last cram school lesson of the year, and the hashtag came up there, too.

No sooner had Sakuta stepped in than a voice called, “You’re late, Sensei!”

One of his students was lurking in the free area, waiting to ambush him—Kento Yamada, a first-year from his alma mater, Minegahara High.

“You’re never this early, Yamada.”

Kento usually slipped in just before classes started and left the moment they ended. He hated studying far too much to take advantage of the self-study booths. Still, he’d never been late, so he was probably more serious about cram school than he seemed.

“Sakuta-sensei, over here.”

He waved Sakuta over to the far wall. Sakuta obligingly went along with it.

“Can I skip today’s lesson?” Kento asked.

“Can I get a reason?”

It was an obvious question to ask. Kento immediately looked around to make sure no one could hear, then peered over the wall into the faculty area.

Once he was sure they were alone, he said, “Lend me your ear.”

“I’d rather not hunker down with another dude,” Sakuta said, but that wasn’t getting them anywhere, so he did as he was told.

“I had a dream Christmas Eve.”

“What about?”

“Well…I was on a date at Enoshima. With Yoshiwa.”

“That’s a nice dream.”

“They had raw whitebait, so it must have been open season again—late March, early April? We were trading bites of soft serve, holding hands…”

His voice had been very quiet to begin with, but embarrassment was stifling it even more. Eventually, his gaze dropped so low he became entirely inaudible.

But that had been enough for Sakuta to get the drift.

“In other words, seeing her now would be awkward, so you wanna bail on class.”

“Yes!”

“Avoiding her will make it worse.”

This was Sakuta’s honest opinion.

“Stop being right.”

“Everyone knows this much.”

“Still, please!”

Kento slapped his hands together, praying.

“Yamada, weren’t you just making eyes at Himeji?”

“Augh! Sensei, don’t say that out loud!”

“You’re louder than I am.”

Kento scanned their surroundings again, but there was no one else in the free-study area. There were people on the faculty side, but not close enough to overhear.

“Himeji, uh…drew lines in the sand.”

He looked a bit hurt but didn’t mince words.

“What went down?”

“I ran into her at Fujisawa Station, in the evening on Christmas Eve.”

Sara had been with Sakuta and Mai that day. They’d dropped her off at the station afterward, which must have been when she met Kento. Previously, Juri had reported a dream in which Sara rejected Kento on Christmas Eve…which may well have been this incident.

“She started right off with ‘Sorry if I gave you the wrong signals.’ Told me she was in love with someone else.”

“And what’d you do?”

“I said ‘Merry Christmas’ and got a laugh out of her.”

He might not have been aware of it, but that had likely been the best possible response from Sara’s perspective. She’d done her best to settle her mess, and arguably, it had gone very well.

“And then that very night you have a dream about Yoshiwa. You don’t waste time.”

“I just went to bed, and the dream came to me. Not my fault!”

“Still, nothing wrong with dreams. They’re just dreams. I thought you didn’t buy into this stuff about the hashtag?”

“I don’t! But what if she had the same dream?! Stuff like that happened to all kinds of people online!”

Kento was being unusually astute today. Sakuta’s and Ikumi’s dreams had lined up. She’d been in his dream, and he’d been in hers.

By the same logic, if Kento had dreamed about Juri, she might well have dreamed about their Enoshima date, too. And that would be awkward.

“In that case, just act normal. Like you didn’t have a dream.”

“Sensei, do you think I’m capable of that?”

“I said it knowing you can’t.”

“Mean!”

“Assuming she did have the same dream as you…Yoshiwa’s way better at hiding stuff, so she’ll probably manage what you can’t. That might help you settle down.”

“Okay, yeah…”

Kento had almost bought into that idea when the door opened and someone else came in. The very girl they’d been talking about, Juri Yoshiwa, was back from her beach volleyball tournament in Okinawa and sporting a new tan.

She saw Sakuta and Kento talking, and she flinched visibly. Her eyes wandered, and she swiftly turned her back on them. On Kento. Then she moved quickly toward their classroom. Clearly fleeing the scene.

“Well, Yoshiwa definitely had the same dream,” Sakuta said.

Kento had turned bright red.

Naturally, that day’s lesson was singularly unproductive. Kento and Juri were both exceedingly conscious of the other’s every move, and that vibe dominated the entire eighty minutes.

The moment it was over, both dashed off, like it was a competition to see who could leave faster.

“Have a happy…and they’re gone.”

Next up, Sakuta had a meeting with Toranosuke. Sakuta was taking over for Rio as his teacher. This was less of a formal meeting and more of a quick chat while standing in the free study space.

“Kasai, you sure you want me teaching you?”

“Absolutely.”

Toranosuke bowed his head politely, shrinking his big body down. Respecting superiors was a hallmark of sports club culture.

“Don’t blame me if you don’t get into Futaba’s college.”

“On Christmas Eve, I dreamed my mock exam scores were awful.”

“Quantum physics tells us the future is not set in stone, so let’s do our best to avoid that.”

Sakuta would just have to make sure the kid passed. At the very least, make sure the subject he taught wasn’t what held Toranosuke back.

They briefly discussed the lesson dates for the new year, and the meeting adjourned. But on the way out, Toranosuke stopped him.

“Oh, right—Azusagawa-sensei.”

“Mm?”

“Thanks for helping Sara.”

“Did Himeji tell you something?”

“I saw her outside my house after practice yesterday. And…we talked.”

Sara had probably not mentioned Adolescence Syndrome or Touko Kirishima. Given Toranosuke’s phrasing, it had likely been a pretty wide-ranging conversation. They’d grown up together, so they’d probably gone on a few trips down memory lane. And it seemed to have been enough to ease his fears about her.

“Did she mention Futaba?”

“Uh, yeah. Said she’s gonna be taking Futaba-sensei’s lessons for a while.”

Sakuta had discussed things with Sara that same day, and they’d agreed she’d drop his class and switch to Rio’s instead. But that wasn’t what Sakuta had been asking about here.

“Not that. I meant…your romantic troubles.”

“Oh, uh, well…she did say something about not letting myself get rejected by the girl I rejected her for.”

“Typical Himeji.”

“You can say that again,” Toranosuke agreed, wincing.

That was the end of Sakuta’s cram school shift, so he saw the boy out, then left himself. It was long since dark; thin clouds drifted across the night sky. Stars peeped out among the gaps every now and then.

“Still, too many people are talking about their dreams.”

It was enough to make him grumble out loud.

There wasn’t much time left in the year. Maybe once the new one arrived, everyone would have forgotten about the dreaming hashtag.

Part of him hoped they would, and part of him knew they wouldn’t.