Yahari Ore no Seishun Love Come wa Machigatte Iru - Volume 10 - Chapter 4

4

Yumiko Miura still wants to know anyway.

The school courtyard was cuttingly cold, and class was over for the day. A few days had passed since that e-mail had come, and the season was moving further toward the dead of winter.

When the sun was up, it was often sunny and warm, but after sunset, the temperature dropped all at once.

And the wind started blowing, too.

Our school is by the ocean, and there are no large buildings to break the wind, so the winter ocean breeze sweeps over everything. Plus, Chiba is the flattest prefecture in Japan. It’s a really wide-open space. Yes, we’re very open here, very comfortable. It’s also a very cozy place where young people can flourish. The hell, this is like a recruitment ad for an exploitative corporate enterprise. Now it kinda makes sense why Chiba is a commuter town full of corporate slaves who work in Tokyo!

But when you’ve been living in Chiba prefecture for seventeen years, your body will unsurprisingly adapt to the cold wind. Thanks to this, I’m also used to getting coldly blasted by society.

A particularly strong wind blew through, and I tugged the collar of my coat closer together, looking over to the distant soccer club.

I was standing on the edge of the parking lot, right in the shadow of the special-use building, and waiting for the soccer club to finish their practice.

As we had discussed in the clubroom the other day, I was planning to ask about Hayama’s course stream. I’d spent the past few days looking for the right moment but hadn’t quite been able to get alone with him, so for lack of any better options, I’d decided to ambush him on his way back from practice.

But coming straight from the warm clubroom, I was really feeling the cold.

I’d been keeping an eye on the soccer club from the window, and I only went out once they had started to clean up, but I was a little early. The guys were stretching.

As I waited for them, lightly stepping in place to shake off the cold, I felt a tug on my sleeve.

I turned around to see something like a fluffy cat plushie there, holding a can of coffee. “Here.”

I looked up farther to see Yukinoshita offering me a MAX Coffee with her cat-paw mitten. So she’s using those gloves, huh…?

“Oh, thanks.” I accepted it with gratitude, and it was as pleasingly warm as the vending machines promised. Instead of using a chemical hand warmer, I rolled the can in my hands.

Behind her, Yuigahama was rubbing her hands together, and Yukinoshita was pressing her cat-paw mittens to her cheeks, too. The two of them had followed me to watch how things went, but Hayama wasn’t coming yet.

I looked up at the sky, which was darkening as if diluted ink were sloshed over it, and opened my mouth. “…You guys can go home.”

“But making you do everything…” Yuigahama trailed off with a mgg, then glanced over at Yukinoshita, seeking agreement from her. Yukinoshita nodded, too.

But I shook my head at her. “No, I think it’ll be easier if I’m alone for this. Wouldn’t it be hard for him to talk about it with you guys there, too? Not that I know.” It was a bad idea for Yukinoshita to be approaching Hayama at a time like this, especially out here. I could easily imagine gossipy people going around spreading lies and half-truths. But I couldn’t quite bring myself to say that to Yukinoshita, and so I wound up being rather vague about it.

Yukinoshita considered it awhile, hand on her chin, but then she looked up again. “I see… Well, that’s true.”

“Hmm, it’d be best if I asked, though,” said Yuigahama.

“I’m sorry to leave it all to you, but…”

“No, it’s fine. That’s what happens when you have a job to do,” I responded to the girls as they looked at me with concern.

Then Yukinoshita smiled as well. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

Indeed. I couldn’t help but offer a mildly self-deprecating smile as I nodded.

Yuigahama seemed to reach a decision about the matter, as she heaved up her pack on her back with a hup. “Then see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you.” I waved casually to the pair as they walked to the front gates, then turned my gaze once again back toward the soccer club. They were finally leaving the field, heading for the clubroom.

Ah, crap. Oh yeah, they change in the clubroom, huh? Maybe they, like, shower or something. I’ve never been in a sports club, so I don’t really know about this stuff…

Oh well, guess I have to go over there. Bringing my MAX Coffee to my mouth for a sip, I leaned against the wall on the side of the new school building that was closest to the clubroom.

Once the sun had fallen fully under the horizon, it felt even colder. But I still kept watching, waiting impatiently for them to come back.

It’s so cold, though… Even if this is work, why do I have to wait for Hayama? Can’t I avoid asking him directly and get this done by just interviewing his guardian spirit or something?

My spirit had long since broken. My body was ice, and my legs were sticks… Nobody was coming, and I was so alone, it kind of made me think a Reality Marble had activated…

But still, I got what I was waiting for. Gradually, the soccer club guys came shuffling out.

I couldn’t find Hayama among them, though. Why isn’t he here…?

When I came away from the wall and craned my neck around, one of the guys called out to me. With that brown hair and lighthearted cheer, I could tell from a distance it was Tobe.

“Huh? If it isn’t Hikitani. What’s up?” He gave me a friendly wave.

I responded with a casually raised hand. “Where’s Hayama?”

“Hayato? …Oh, he’s kinda in the middle of something right now,” Tobe said, but his eyes were wandering around. I followed his gaze, but I couldn’t find Hayama.

“He’s not here?”

“Oh, he’s not gone. I mean, he is basically here, y’know?”

Tobe was being vague. Which is it? What a hassle…

“If he’s not here, then oh well… I’m headin’ out.”

I was a little grumpy to wind up with this when I’d waited such a long time, but if there was nothing to be gained here, then it’d be best to just go home now. The basics of gambling is to cut your losses. This also applies to the game of life. Seriously, man, my whole life is a trail of cut losses, y’know?

Saying good-bye to Tobe, I headed for the parking lot.

“…Ah!”

I got the feeling I’d heard Tobe’s voice behind me, but I ignored it and continued ahead.

And then, in the shadow of the school building, I discovered Hayama. Hey, he is here! This wasn’t the way to the front gates, and I’d taken the way that led to the back gate.

Wondering how I should call out to him, I took a few steps forward but then stopped on the spot.

I stopped because I’d discovered someone else, someone who was not Hayama, standing in a spot where the orange light of the streetlights barely reached.

I automatically hopped back to hide behind the wall of the school. As I pressed my back flat against it, the coldness seeped into my skin.

It was dark around, so I couldn’t tell who it was with Hayama. But still, I could tell from the figure’s stature that it was a girl. Snippets of their conversation, like “Sorry for calling you out so suddenly” reached me over the wind, and from the tone of it, I figured out that she was a girl from our grade.

She wore a dark-blue peacoat and a red scarf. Squeezing that scarf tightly over her chest, the girl looked up at Hayama with upturned eyes. She must have been nervous, as even from a distance, I could tell that her thin shoulders were trembling.

Ahhh, that’s what’s going on.

That was why Tobe had been so evasive.

The girl took a little breath in, and then, steeling herself, she squeezed the collar of her coat. “Um…I heard from a friend. Hayama. Is it true that you’re dating someone now?”

“No, I’m not.”

“So then, would you—?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t really consider any of that right now.”

Though their voices were quiet, I just barely managed to pick up a little of their exchange.

But I couldn’t hear them at all after that.

I’m sure both of them couldn’t say anything.

But I didn’t need to listen in further to understand.

A unique, strained sense of anxiety and a despair that was far from his usual breeziness. The atmosphere was befitting of the cold winter air in the darkness, much like what I’d felt on my skin just moments ago.

It was strikingly similar to that scene during the Christmas season: Iroha Isshiki and Hayato Hayama at Destiny Land.

Eventually, they exchanged a few words, and they probably said good-bye to each other. The girl waved weakly, then turned around and started walking.

As Hayama watched the girl leave, his shoulders dropped slightly, and he breathed out a long, long sigh, lifting his face. Then it seemed he noticed me.

He smiled. He wasn’t embarrassed or shy, and he definitely didn’t look glad—he just seemed resigned. “You sure caught me at an odd moment.”

“Oh, um, well, you know… Sorry.” When he addressed me first, it took the wind out of my sails. Thanks to that, I couldn’t find anything proper to say. Well, even if he hadn’t said anything, I wouldn’t have known how to talk to him anyway. If I’d been talking to the rejectee, I could have come up with some words of consolation, but I couldn’t think of what to say to the one who had done the rejecting.

But Hayama must have seen I was hesitating, as he cracked a little smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve already made my club mates feel awkward about it today.” By the way he was talking, it seemed this had happened more than once over the past few days.

“Rough times, huh?” Frankly, that was all I could say. I wasn’t really interested in Hayato Hayama’s romantic entanglements, and you can’t even get jealous of a guy who has as much as he’s got. Maybe it would have been kind of me to crack some jokes and tease him, but unfortunately, we weren’t that close.

Hayama’s face twisted for just a second—choking almost, as if he were resisting some kind of pain.

But then he immediately gave a light shake of his head and put on his usual smile, indicating with a jab of his chin that we go to the parking lot, and I started walking after him.

“I think Yukinoshita has it worse than I do,” he said.

“What? Yukinoshita? Why?” That name was so unexpected, I didn’t even think before I asked.

Without turning around, Hayama tossed the words back at me. “You know the types—people who get a kick out of invading others’ privacy. Maybe they’re just curious, but they cause trouble for others,” he said, his voice far sharper than usual. I couldn’t quite connect the impression I was getting now to the guy who always wore such a mild smile.

But I understood that Hayama was talking about those rumors.

The girl who had come to confess to Hayama just now surely had friends who had used those rumors as jokes to egg her on. And more of the same had probably been going on for the past few days, too.

Still walking, Hayama glanced back at me. Under the glow of the streetlights, his expression was apologetic, his eyebrows slightly lowered. “This situation might be causing trouble for Yukinoshita, too. Sorry, but could you apologize to her for me?”

“Do it yourself.”

“I want to, but if I went to talk to her now…the rumors would just grow even more. With things like this, you just have to let it lie.”

Hayama sounded like he was speaking from personal experience—just reciting from memory the truths he’d acquired from his own past experiences.

And I’m sure he wasn’t the only one who had learned those truths. She probably had, too.

When this thought hit me, I just about jerked to a stop right there. But I somehow made my legs move, taking one step forward.

“You’re used to this… Does this happen a lot?” I asked.

But Hayama gave just a moment’s shrug, then immediately brought up something entirely different. “……Anyway, didn’t you have something you wanted to talk about with me?”

That alone was enough to tell me that it was a subject he’d rather avoid.

So then this was the line I could not step past.

Respecting the indicated boundary line, I joined him in talking about something else. “Oh, it’s nothing big, but there was something I kinda wanted to ask…about your, um, course stream,” I said.

“Oh, that,” Hayama muttered softly, and then he smiled wryly. “Did someone ask you to ask me?

“Uh, well…for reference.” Of course I couldn’t tell him Miura had asked us to.

When I failed to reply, Hayama breathed a short sigh again. “…Is this just for work again?” His reply was cold with a somehow disdainful tinge to it. He was ahead of me, so I couldn’t see his expression. The only thing in my view was his tightly clenched fists. “You never change,” he spat, and I could hear his words clearly, even with the wind blowing in my face. With every gust, the sheet-iron roof of the parking lot groaned, and a rusty, abandoned bicycle rattled and creaked.

They were unpleasant sounds. My voice sharpened as I replied, “I told you before. This is just what my club does. It’s acts of service.”

“I see. So then can I make a request?” Hayama asked, then stopped, turning back to me. “Could you quit giving me all this trouble?”

There wasn’t even the slightest smile on his face. His clenched fists went slack, and there was no strength or inflection in his tone. But his voice was not lost in the wind; it quietly rang out through the night, behind the school.

There was no reply, no follow-up, and a slight stillness followed.

But just for a moment.

Hayama immediately smiled and then tried to play it off as a joke. “…If someone said that to you, I mean—then what would you do next?” he asked, teasing.

“What would I do? I mean, I’ll think about it when the time comes.”

“…I see.”

We didn’t say anything to each other after that, coming up in front of the parking lot. There, Hayama came to a stop and pointed to the back exit. “I take the train.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, meaning that to be a farewell, but Hayama was still standing there.

He was staring at the sky.

Wondering if he could see something, I was drawn to look up as well.

But there was just the school building, with its lights off, and the glow of the streetlights reflecting off the window glass. There were no moon or stars, only the reflected image of the artificial lights.

Suddenly, Hayama opened his mouth as if he’d just remembered something. “As for your earlier question—I won’t answer it, but you’re free to guess. I don’t know who asked you to do this…but they need to think over it carefully themselves, or they’re sure to regret it,” he said, then started walking off into the darkness beyond the streetlights.

I knew the way ahead of him led to the back entrance, and for a moment, I didn’t know where he was headed anymore.

His words weren’t for me.

But mysteriously, it seemed as if they weren’t really for their true recipient, either.

As I spent my days at school, sparing just the slightest bit of attention for our friend Hayato Hayama and his circumstances, I noticed something.

Put simply, Iroha Isshiki’s worries had been on the mark.

As she said in the clubroom the other day, that rumor had indeed changed the environment around Hayama somewhat.

In the hallways and in the classrooms, the rumors of Hayama and Yukinoshita spread in whispers.

Unsurprisingly, given that this was Hayama and Yukinoshita, two of the most well-known people in the school. And that interest applied to both girls and boys.

When I was zoning out in the classroom during breaks, I could tell the others were stealing looks at Hayama. Even now, I could hear the girls sitting diagonally behind me chatting.

“I wonder how much of that is true.”

“Right? I’m so curious. Maybe they really are dating. What do you think?”

“But when a girl from Class E asked, he said they weren’t.”

“I mean, he’s not going to just tell her the truth and kick her while she’s down. He’s so nice!”

“That’s not being nice! It is funny, though.”

They didn’t say explicitly who it was, but I was basically certain they were discussing the rumor about Hayama and Yukinoshita.

This was beyond smoke without fire. There wasn’t even any kindling or a camping spot. But unfortunately, there were sparks. That’s why it had caught everyone’s attention and why they were having so much fun with it.

Well, seventeen-year-old girls are chatty melons who love to talk, and if something is related to school celebrities in their lives, the subject will tend to come up.

These girls whose names I didn’t really know continued to whisper.

“Kinda surprising, right? Yukinoshita may not look the type to go after the good-looking ones, but when push comes to shooove…”

“Ohhh, I get that. I mean, they never even hung out before. It’s like it’s totally just about looks?”

“Hey, but then that means Hayama is shallow, too!”

“Isn’t he, though?”

The voices talking and giggling together were quiet. They were trying to be careful to keep Hayama and his friends from hearing, more or less.

It was really grating.

Honestly, it was pissing me off.

The noise of it was unpleasant, like a mosquito buzzing right when you’re falling asleep, or the sound the second hand makes late at night when you can’t sleep. Just listening to it made me click my tongue at them.

I had no part of this situation, and even I was getting irritated. For the subjects of the gossip, it had to be worse.

The girls I didn’t really know threw out whatever mildly envious and random speculation, conjecture, and wishes they wanted. They followed the moment and rolled the conversation in the direction most amusing to them.

I’m sure most people like that don’t have any ill will. They only do it because they’re having fun. If you get serious and try to refute it, they’d be like, It’s a joke; don’t get so serious.

Watching it happen in front of me—no, more because I’d come to know the two of them—for the first time, I understood.

Yukino Yukinoshita and Hayato Hayama have always lived in this sort of environment. They are exceptional in looks and in talents, so they’re the subject of attention and expectation. And that’s why they’ve been hit with proportionate disappointment and envy, as well.

In the surveillance society that is puberty, school is prison. The popular kids are always exposed to the eyes of the public, while the rest, the majority, begin their unsolicited observation out of good intentions and curiosity. And then, occasionally, they’ll even dole out punishments. It’s like the Stanford prison experiment being carried out day and night. Nobody had asked any of these boys and girls to do it, but they became aggressive out of this sense that they had a mission.

Behind me, the stupid chatter from those nameless prison guards still continued.

But a hard tapping sound had joined in with their voices. And then the girls stopped flat.

I looked over to the source of the noise.

There was Miura, arms folded, nails tapping in irritation on her desk. Though her face was pointed toward Yuigahama and Ebina, we could see her furious profile from this angle, too.

Even from the front, Miura’s attention-grabbing, well-groomed appearance was powerful, but from the side, combined with the nasty look in her eye, she was dominating. And, like, scary. She’s three times scarier than usual. Even though I wasn’t the one getting glared at, I couldn’t help but look away.

And Hayama, who sat in front of Miura, smiled wryly back at her.

I doubt either Hayama or Miura had heard the girls’ conversation.

But nothing could speak as eloquently as atmosphere.

Even if you didn’t hear the words, even if you didn’t hear what they were talking about, you could sense on your skin if the air was favorable toward you or cutting you out of something. Just as right this moment, Miura was communicating her hostility to the girls with a single look.

It had gotten uncomfortable for the girls to stay in the classroom, and two of them stood, passing by my side to cheerily head out. Oh, so a conference in the bathroom, then?

“That was super-freaky. I wonder if she heard us.”

“I dunno… I wonder what Miura thinks, though.”

“Who knows.”

Pretending I couldn’t hear the conversation while they were passing by, I kept my face down on my desk. If I didn’t, I’d wind up staring at Miura’s group.

Ripples spreading on the surface of water will eventually disappear, but the butterfly effect does not.

Listening closely to the sound of the wind rattling on the windows, I patiently endured the break time.

Even after the school day was done, the wind didn’t die down.

The air blowing over the Kanto Plains was cold and dry. The damp air coming out from the Sea of Japan side was blocked off by the Ou mountain range, among others, which bunched up the clouds there and only let the wind blow down toward us.

It hit the outside of the clubroom and the windows on the hallway side.

But the inside of the clubroom was filled with warmth and humidity, and the main culprit for that was the steaming tea before me.

I brought the cup to my lips, and once I was comfortable, I started talking. “So, Mr. Hayama in his wisdom totally shut me down…” Being that I’d been a little dramatic about insisting that I be the one to ask him, I couldn’t help but apologize a little.

Hearing my report, Yuigahama smiled wryly. “Yeah, I had the feeling he would. Hayato kinda seemed a little grumpy… It’s not your fault. You don’t have to worry about it.”

She’s trying to make me feel better…

Yukinoshita sighed with a little smile, too. “We weren’t expecting anything, so there’s no reason to feel bad.”

I wasn’t sure if that quite counted as an attempt at consolation, but I could sense some kindness in her tone.

But the third voice held a strong edge of disgust. “I mean, this is you we’re talking about.”

Is it me you’re talking about? You never call me by my name; I get so unsure…

“So why are you here again?” I looked over at Isshiki, who held a paper cup in her hands, and she set the cup down on her desk, adjusted her collar, and smoothed down her skirt. While she was at it, she also fiddled with her bangs a bit and straightened up in her seat.

“I came here today because I actually have something to consult about,” she said, putting on this superserious act. But with the slight bit of collarbone peeking out from her newly adjusted collar, her fluttering skirt hem, and her bangs swept to perfectly frame her eyes as she looked through her lashes at me—she didn’t come off very serious.

I’d just about gotten distracted for a second there, but I stayed strong and tore my eyes from Isshiki. I won’t fall for that…

“If it’s helping the student council, we’re not doing that anymore,” I said.

“…Oh, really?” Isshiki muttered, sounding dejected. I got the feeling I heard a slight tongue clicking after that, but that’s my imagination, right? Irohasu?

Suddenly, Yukinoshita cleared her throat to intervene. “You wouldn’t possibly have come to request help?” Even as she smiled brightly, there was a force in her voice. Her tone was soft, but it sent a shiver down my spine.

Isshiki immediately straightened her posture. “O-of course! It’s a joke! I’m doing my job!”

Seeing Isshiki’s attitude, Yukinoshita breathed an exasperated sigh and asked, “So then what do you want?”

Yuigahama decided to intervene. “I think Iroha-chan probably wanted to know about Hayato’s course stream and came to ask, right?”

“I knew you’d get it, Yui! That’s right! But that’s not aaall.”

Yukinoshita prompted her to continue with a look. So Isshiki touched her hand to her chin, and pondering, she began, “It’s like, you know, it looks like there’s kinda more girls coming to make a pass at him.”

“What do you mean?” Yuigahama asked, and Isshiki answered with indifference.

“Well, confessing and stuff, to be frank. And even if they don’t go that far, they just check with him, like getting his attention.”

Her statement reminded me of what I’d seen the day before, when heading home. Of course, I hadn’t told Yukinoshita and Yuigahama about that, so it seemed something else about what Isshiki said had stuck with them.

“What do you mean, ‘check with him’?” asked Yukinoshita.

“And that gets his attention?” Yuigahama added.

With the other two girls giving her questioning looks, Isshiki cleared her throat to test her voice and straightened up. Then she turned her whole chair around to face me.

She expelled a short but heated sigh and leveled a serious gaze at me. “Hey…are you…dating anyone right now?” Her voice was wobbly and unsure, her words hesitant, her cheeks blushing pink. Her wrists were startlingly white and thin in their overlong cuffs. Her hand clenched around the ribbon at her chest nervously, the wrinkling of her shirt communicating an earnest air.

Her wet eyes wavered delicately.

She’d caught me off guard, and I could feel my heartbeat accelerating. I swallowed in an attempt to quiet it. “No, I’m not…,” I rasped.

The clubroom went dead silent.

Of course I wasn’t saying anything, and Yukinoshita and Yuigahama weren’t, either.

In the silence, Isshiki broke into a nasty grin. “See, it’s something like that. Just like that!”

“Th-the issue here is how you say it! Right, Hikki?”

………Well, it’s not like putting on that show has no effect. Yeah. Actually, it did have quite the effect. Not bad, Iroha Isshiki.

“Hikki?”

Hearing my name, I looked over at Yuigahama and Yukinoshita to see they were giving me dull expressions.

“…Why aren’t you saying anything?” Yukinoshita smiled pleasantly.

Stop it—that smile of yours is scary. “W-well, uh, so like. I get Hayama’s situation now. Yeah, I really, really get it.” So they wanted to discover if the rumors were true or false and, if possible, to move on to a confession. And even if you didn’t go that far, you could use it as a chance to get closer? Something like that?

Maybe you could say it was like a character you thought was impossible to romance now having their route unlocked in the expansion pack… Or is it an eek-eek tee-hee scenario added via fan patch?

Regardless, I think it’s fair to blame this phenomenon on rumor’s influence.

“So then what did you want to consult about?” I asked.

Isshiki puffed out her chest smugly. “I want to know a way to set myself apart from my rivals!”

“Uh-huh…” She kinda had guts to still not give up, so I offered her a vague answer that was half-impressed, half-exasperated, and half-indifferent. That makes a total one and a half, huh?

She must have assumed I was listening from that. I wasn’t, but she went on at length anyway. “Depending on the way you look at it, we have an opportunity here. Normally, people will confess and then give up right there, right? And he’s kind of sick of having people confess to him, right? But I’m a safe person in a way, meaning I can ambush—oh wait, I mean comfort him to the fullest!”

The way she corrected herself was pretty forced… And what exactly is full comfort? Isshiki isn’t exactly full and ample… Her appeal is in her delicate aura, her youthfulness… Uh, that’s not what we were talking about! I don’t care about what happens between Hayama and Isshiki, so I kinda zoned out at some point in her explanation.

When I looked over at Yuigahama and Yukinoshita, wondering if they were actually listening, I saw they were listening quite seriously.

“A safe person…”

“Ambush…”

They both muttered, watching Isshiki like a pair of hawks. They were so serious, for a second the temperature dropped like a rock. …This doesn’t feel so good!

But Isshiki didn’t notice their looks. She was gazing out the window. She was probably watching the soccer club practicing in the courtyard.

“So I thought just super -casually hanging out with him might be a good idea to cheer him up…” Isshiki’s profile was anxious but gentle, illuminated by the light of the setting sun.

Though her manner was lighthearted, I think in her own way, she was trying to be thoughtful for Hayama.

Hey, she’s actually thinking this through. I think if she were to show that side of her, it’d catch most guys off their guard, though… “That doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.” I smiled a little as that popped out of my mouth.

Isshiki beamed. “Right! So then it’s like, where’d be a good place, huh?”

“Uh, you’re the one who’s typically good with that stuff.” You’re absolutely asking the wrong people. I’m sure Yuigahama has some information from friends, so she’s one thing, but nobody would expect me or Yukinoshita to go to hang out like that.

When I told her that, Isshiki puffed up her cheeks in a pout. “I already tried everything I thought up before! So I wanted an opposite sort of approach.”

“Oh, I see…” She’s got an incredible ability to take action. Does this mean she’s a member of Tokio after all?

While I was busy being impressed, Yuigahama put her index finger to her chin and tilted her head. “So you want a place where you can hang out casually and not make it a big deal… And we need to help you think one up?”

“Basically, yeah, something like that,” Isshiki replied, answering Yuigahama with a nod.

Yukinoshita sighed softly. “Well, why not, I suppose,” she said with a smile, looking more big sister–ish than usual.

Isshiki must have felt she could be more friendly with Yukinoshita when she was like this, as she laughed. “Ah-ha! Thanks so much! …So what do you think?” She turned to me.

“There’s not much use asking me…” I really couldn’t think of anything. Well, wouldn’t Destiny Land be a good idea? But of course, that was a little iffy for someone who had just gotten rejected there…

I didn’t really know what sort of stuff Hayama liked, but no matter what they did or where they went, he’d look like he was enjoying himself well enough. Whether he actually would be was a different question.

As I was pondering this, Yuigahama scooched up ahead, chair and all. “Wh-what do you think’d be good, Hikki? Um, like for reference…”

“I’m totally different from Hayama, so I’d be useless as a reference,” I said.

Yukinoshita giggled. “Yes, you’re at completely opposite poles.”

“Right?”

“Yes, indeed,” Yukinoshita agreed. Her tone was a bit mocking, but I wasn’t mad.

It was true enough that we were actually at opposite poles, after all. I take pride in being a man of middlingly decent caliber, but I come nowhere near Hayama… And isn’t the petty act of boasting about your own high caliber basically proof that I’m at opposite poles from Hayama?

Seriously, what is up with this petty smallness…? Well, girls are into those little accessories and knickknacks, aren’t they? So doesn’t it follow that they’d be into small and petty people?! Positivity!!

Yukinoshita quietly cleared her throat while I was in my own head. Then she turned away to add rapidly, “…But it’s because you are opposites that I think the reference would be useful. If you take the inverse of your opposite’s opinion, isn’t that essentially the correct answer? The opposite of opposition is agreement, right?”

“The inverse of the inverse isn’t necessarily the truth…” There’s something wrong with that logic. The opposite of opposition is approval? You’re not Bakabon’s dad…

Or so I was about to argue, but Yukinoshita and Yuigahama were both staring at me, waiting for an answer.

Uh, um, when you stare at me like that, I start remembering things. It’s uncomfortable, so please don’t. “…Um, I’ll think about it,” I managed to say, then sneaked my gaze out the window.

And then, from nowhere in particular, I faintly heard a slightly exasperated, dissatisfied huff or whiff of a sigh.

“Go ahead. Think about it carefully,” Isshiki said with a sweet smile.

But I’m still kinda stuck, y’know… I can barely handle myself; I don’t have any spare consideration for Isshiki—actually, I’d even like to ask her… Well, whatever. I’ll think up something later.

Anyway, the change in Isshiki’s attitude toward Hayama was probably part of the rumor’s influence. Things around him were definitely starting to change.

Well then, what about the people in the whirlpool surrounding the other relevant party?

“…That reminds me. What about you, Yukinoshita? Has anything changed for you since that rumor?” I asked her.

“Me? Hardly anyone visits my class in the first place, so…”

It’s true that the International Curriculum classroom, Class J, is at the very end of the hall, and the class is 90 percent girls. It’s pretty different from the rest, and the kids from other classes don’t go out of their way to see them there. In that sense, her situation might be somewhat preferable to Hayama’s.

But still, it seemed she wasn’t completely unaffected.

Yukinoshita breathed a short sigh. “Well, it seems there are people saying whatnot in the shadows, but there’s been some of that for some time, so I can’t quite make a judgment…”

“I get it,” Isshiki agreed. “When you stand out, people will say all sorts of stuff behind your back, huh…?”

No, I think in your situation, Isshiki, it’s a little different…

Yukinoshita smiled at Isshiki, nodding a little at her, then added quietly, “…But it’s not as bad as it used to be.”

The words as it used to be stuck with me.

She had a past I can’t know about. That she won’t talk about. And it’s connected to him.

But could I ask that? At the very least, I could tell I shouldn’t ask with other people around. Did I have the right to ask about these things when she hadn’t brought it up herself?

Still feeling hesitant, I started to open my mouth.

Then suddenly, there were two, three knocks on the door. Everyone automatically looked over there, and I missed my moment to ask.

And then, without waiting for any reply, the door was thrown open without reserve.

“…You got a minute?” the newcomer asked, her tone filled with wrath. She swept a glare over the room, her loosely spiraling golden hair swaying in displeasure. Yes, the one standing in the doorway was Yumiko Miura.

“Yumiko, what’s wrong?” Yuigahama asked.

“…I wanted to talk about something.”

“Ohhh. Well, then come in, come in,” Yuigahama said to her. Miura nodded, stepping into the clubroom. Then she gave Isshiki a suspicious look.

“Oh. I have student council work, so…,” Isshiki said, sensing that she wasn’t wanted, and scurried out of the clubroom. “See you guys!” she said in a tiny voice, then slid the door shut.

Once Yuigahama saw Isshiki was gone, she offered Miura a chair. We naturally lined up facing Miura—me, then Yuigahama, then Yukinoshita.

“You mean about that e-mail?” Yuigahama asked.

“Not that… Well, that’s part of it,” Miura said vaguely, turning away. But then she gave a big sigh, and next, she turned to Yukinoshita. “…So, like, is there something between you and Hayato?”

Her words and gaze were sharp.

There was no doubt she was talking about that rumor. The irresponsible, whispered rumors about Hayama and Yukinoshita were all over the school.

I should have realized back on the first day the club had reopened and Isshiki had come charging in—that there was a possibility other girls would come directly to Yukinoshita to confirm the facts.

Miura had to be the closest to Hayama, so there was no way she wouldn’t be thinking anything about this.

Her gaze was blazing, but Yukinoshita took it coolly.

“There isn’t anything, really. We’ve just known each other for a long time,” she answered carelessly.

But Miura’s sharp gaze did not let up. “Really?”

Yukinoshita gave an exasperated sigh. “What would I accomplish by lying? …It’s so annoying when people do this.”

“What? Why do you have to say it like that? God, you’re pissing me off. I hate how you’re always like that.”

“Yumiko!” Yuigahama’s tone was surprisingly accusatory. Miura’s shoulders twitched, startled, and she hesitantly, slowly turned her head around.

Yuigahama was pouting, almost angry. She repeated the same thing she’d said at some point in the classroom. “I explained about that before. They honestly just ran into each other—that was all—and nothing happened after.”

“…If that was all, Hayato wouldn’t be so worried about it. Something like this has never happened before,” Miura said, and she sounded somehow sulky, totally unlike her usual confident manner. Her face was tilted downward as she bit her lip slightly.

Miura was probably the one positioned closest to Hayato Hayama at this school. I don’t know how long they’ve been friends, but I think they’ve been close since second year started.

That’s why anything off with Hayama would be more apparent to her. She was sure to have a far more accurate grasp of things than someone like me.

But there were things that even Miura couldn’t know.

The only one here who was privy to that information was Yukino Yukinoshita.

Sweeping the hair off her shoulders, Yukinoshita said coldly, “He’s not actually worried about me. I think he’s concerned about something else.”

“That’s… That could just be what you think. You don’t know how Hayato feels.” Miura’s shoulders dropped, and she fiddled with her hair with a fingertip as she quietly asked Yukinoshita, “…Something…happened, didn’t it? Not like this thing now…but, like, a long time ago.”

Her words broken up by pauses.

That was something I had considered but had chosen to exclude. There’s no way.

Yukino Yukinoshita does not lie. However, she does avoid speaking the truth. She will also gloss over things by being taciturn and by using roundabout expressions. I know that.

So what about Hayato Hayama? I have no idea what he feels in his heart, his emotions, or anything. I don’t really want to know.

That’s what I’d been telling myself anyway, avoiding thinking about it, even though I was certain there had been something between the two of them.

And now, Miura was trying to touch on that.

But Yukinoshita brushed her aside with a sigh. “…If something had happened, and I gave you the details, would that change anything? Would you or others trust that?”

Yukinoshita sounded like she was cross-examining Miura, leaving her unable to reply. She tried to respond anyway, clenching the hem of her cardigan, lips trembling, but her voice never came out.

Yukinoshita breathed a shallow sigh. “It would be ultimately pointless.”

Explanations, excuses, defenses, and dialogue do not create meaning in and of themselves.

There’s a reason we call it the lowest common denominator, the bigger the group of people you make, the greater the level of their stupidity. When you get thrown into the middle of that, and no matter how exceptional you are—no, the more exceptional you are—the violence of their numbers will erase you. The mob doesn’t care about your individual will, your uniqueness, your personality, and certainly not your feelings.

This is the failure to understand that Yukino Yukinoshita has experienced.

In the society where we live, people see things the way they want to see them and only listen to what they want to hear, and yet they don’t say what they actually want to say.

But Miura was different.

“God, why are you so…?!” With fury clear in her voice, she stood.

“Hey, Yumiko?!”

Yuigahama’s startled call, an attempt to stop her, didn’t make it in time. I jumped to my feet as well, but it was like Yukinoshita was the only thing Miura could see, and she strode straight up to her.

“What the hell is with you?!” And then she swung out her arm and tried to grab at Yukinoshita.

But her hand never reached its target.

Yukinoshita smoothly rose to her feet, stopping Miura’s hand as it reached for her collar. Then she gave Miura a cold look.

“…!”

“Unfortunately, I’m used to this… You’re the first one to make it physical like this, though.”

The heated sigh and cold remark crossed paths as they glared at each other. Miura’s breathing gradually got shallower and shallower, as if she were struggling against something inside her, while Yukinoshita breathed out a deep, deep sigh.

“Is there still something you’d like to say? Or is there more?”

Contrasted with Miura, who was gradually losing momentum, Yukinoshita’s emotions were roiling up more aggressively. It was as if heat were passing through their locked gazes and grasp.

Yukinoshita had a challenging, callous smile on her face. I found myself thinking something that didn’t fit the situation at all: Damn, that look really reminds me of Haruno.

But it wasn’t a smile I wanted to look at for long.

“Let her go. Just calm down a minute and sit down.” I lightly slapped Yukinoshita’s hand, which still had a grip on Miura’s arm. I hesitated a moment, unsure if I could touch her, but when Yukinoshita was this combative, it was probably more effective than words.

For an instant, Yukinoshita glared daggers at me, but she obediently released Miura’s arm. Miura let it dangle, taking a step back.

I cut into the space that had opened between them, pushing Miura back with gestures to avoid touching her. Yuigahama handled it from there.

Miura was still glaring resentfully at Yukinoshita, so Yuigahama bopped Miura on the shoulder and sat her down where she’d been before. “Let’s just calm down a little… Okay?”

Still watching the two of them, I moved my chair into a position where I could immediately get in between Miura and Yukinoshita if I had to.

“You okay?” I asked Yukinoshita.

“Yes. I told you, didn’t I? I’m used to it.” Yukinoshita tightly clenched the hand that had caught Miura’s arm, and she gave me a slightly crooked smile. The aggressive emotion from earlier was now gone.

“Yukinon…,” Yuigahama said.

“It’s nothing to worry about now… If the people close to me understand, that’s enough for me.” Yukinoshita gave a little smile, and there was no bravado in it. She gently stroked her clenched hand, then sat back down. I sighed in relief at things finally settling down, and Yuigahama returned to her seat as well.

Miura was silent the whole time, watching the other two girls, eyes narrowed. She seemed unsure what to do with the scene she was watching.

And then she pouted her lips just a bit, quietly whispering, “…Yeah, duh… That’s why.”

“Huh?” Yuigahama asked back.

Miura jerked her gaze away. “I mean, I wanna… I wanna be like that to him. Someone close,” she added, mumbling with embarrassment, mussing at her hair. Then she turned away from us and looked out the window in a show of disinterest.

Oh, I get it.

Though I’m sure she hadn’t been trying to communicate anything clear to us, I understood it. I couldn’t help but understand it. Well, understand may not be the right word—something in me could feel and sympathize with it.

Yukinoshita wasn’t the only one who had experienced that failure of understanding.

He shared her past, so he had experienced it, too.

There was no way that just one of them had dealt with that twisted failure to understand—the other had been misunderstood as well, hadn’t he?

“Miura. What you actually want to know isn’t what happened way back when, is it…?” I think there was some surprise slipping into my voice.

When I said that, Miura gave me a sharp glare. But instead of its usual force, there was a moist shine instead.

I think what Miura actually wanted to know was not what had happened in the past, and it wasn’t even his future course, either.

What was he thinking? What was in his heart?

She just wanted to know his feelings.

She wanted to know him.

“I—I just… I mean. It’s like, I just kinda thought it’d be nice if we could be together a little longer… Um, all of us, the way we are now…,” Miura hurried to say, but the force behind her words wilted away, and her shoulders slowly dropped. “Hayato’s been…distant…lately… It kinda feels like he’s just gonna drift away,” she added in the tiniest voice, her gaze sliding to a corner of the floor.

I don’t know when exactly “lately” began. But the environment surrounding Hayato Hayama was changing, bit by bit.

Isshiki’s confession, seeing Orimoto and her friends from another school hanging out with him. And the rumors about him and Yukinoshita.

No one had ever talked about Hayato Hayama dating, before. No—to be more accurate, he’d kept himself away from any rumors on the subject. And now, that balance had crumbled.

And right when this rift had begun growing between them, the subject of class divisions had come up. It was fully clear to everyone that the current sense of unity would be lost.

Miura had keenly felt that sense of widening distance.

“I know this is weird, but…I don’t really know what else to do.” The words just spilled out.

Yuigahama stood and went to Miura, squatting down beside her to gently take her hand. “It’s not weird. It’s not weird at all. It’s a completely natural thing to want to be with someone,” she replied kindly.

Miura let out a heavy sigh, head dropping. I just barely caught the sound of a tiny gasp, like a stifled sob.

I’m sure she knew that things couldn’t stay the way they were now, and she understood that she couldn’t have what she wanted no matter how strongly she felt about the future. She knew that if she said so out loud she would break it, but she still didn’t want to lose it.

That was why she wanted to be close, at least, and stay with him. To keep the environment around Hayato Hayama the way he wanted.

That one curt, restrained e-mail was the only modest resistance she could offer. That one single line had contained earnest feelings and a wish.

Which meant there was something I couldn’t understand.

I blew a big sigh and said, “But, Miura. If Hayama won’t tell you, then doesn’t that mean he doesn’t want you knowing him that well? Maybe he just doesn’t like you.”

“Hey, Hikki!” Yuigahama snapped in an accusatory tone.

“Hikigaya…” Yukinoshita just seemed confused. Both of them were looking at me.

I didn’t need them telling me—I understood well enough myself that this was a mean thing to ask. But I wanted to ask anyway. It wasn’t that I wanted to know how emotionally ready Miura was. I actually didn’t really care about that.

But I’m still not sure if it’s the right thing to take that step toward someone who doesn’t want you getting close. You can maintain the structure of the relationship without going to the trouble of touching that stuff.

That’s exactly why I was asking.

“Do you still want to know anyway?”

Even if they hate you or avoid you or think you’re shameless, even if you wind up hurting them, is it okay to cross that line? That’s what I meant to ask.

Miura’s answer came immediately. With a teary-eyed glare at me, she clenched her fists tight.

“I want to know… I want to know anyway… Because that’s all I’ve got.”

Her eyes were wet and her voice was shaking, but she gave a firm answer.

That wish had probably been inside her this whole time—her desire to know, to understand him. And now it was spilling out of her as she swallowed a desperate, trembling breath.

If she’ll struggle anyway to know the truth, even knowing it won’t happen…

…then that’s no different from a certain someone I know.

“All right. I’ll figure something out.”

This time, it was my turn to answer without hesitation.

Yuigahama and Yukinoshita both looked a little surprised to hear me say that.

“Figure something out…?” Yuigahama said.

“I’ll get it out of him, by force if I have to. Or if not, I’ll investigate,” I said.

“Even if you do force it out of him, you have no way of knowing if it’s true, though,” said Yukinoshita.

“Yeah. So…after that…I suppose we guess.”

But that alone would probably not be enough.

I had to get an accurate grasp of the reason Hayama so stubbornly brandished his righteous argument to not tell anyone his course stream choice. I’d need to attack this from a variety of angles, but—well, that was a question for later.

Right now, the one important thing was what Miura wanted.

“Neither method will be a guarantee… But if you’re okay with that, I’ll figure it out somehow,” I repeated myself.

Yuigahama examined Miura’s face. “Are you okay with that, Yumiko?” she gently asked.

“…Yeah,” Miura replied, just like a little kid, and she sniffed and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. She was looking like a panda around the eyes.

But seeing her with her eye makeup all smeared, I thought something I’d never thought before. Yumiko Miura is a cute girl.