Yahari Ore no Seishun Love Come wa Machigatte Iru - Volume 2 - Chapter 5

5

Hachiman Hikigaya goes back the way he came again.

Exam week was over, the weekend had passed, and it was Monday again. This was the day the exam results would be distributed. All we did in class that day was get our exams back and listen to each teacher go over the problems. At the end of each subject, Yuigahama would make her way to my desk to report her results. “Hikki! My grades in Japanese history went up! That study party really was awesome after all,” she declared, rather exhilarated.

I, however, was less enthusiastic. “That’s great.”

“Yeah! Man, this is all thanks to Yukinon! And you, too, Hikki,” Yuigahama said, but frankly, I hadn’t done anything. There was no way that single study session could have given her instant results. Studying together like that was fundamentally pointless. So if Yuigahama was getting better grades, it was probably due to her own efforts.

As for my exam results, as usual, I had fiercely defended third place in Japanese. Nine percent in math. Hey, what’s a recurrence formula? It sounds like some technobabble Zaimokuza would come up with.

Not only was that the day we were getting our exam results back, it also happened to be the day of our long-looming workplace tour. When lunch hour rolled around, all the students were sent off to visit the workplaces they’d selected.

Where we were headed was Kaihin-Makuhari Station. The area had quite the office district and, surprisingly, even some head offices. It was also the same shopping district I’d gotten to know the other evening. They didn’t call it Makuhari New City Center for nothing. You could actually call this place the capital of Chiba.

I was in a group with Totsuka and Hayama. Or rather, I was supposed to be. But when we actually got there, a bunch of people were crowding around Hayama. What was this guy, a feudal lord?

Well, I hadn’t intended to go with Hayama in the first place, anyway, so I looked around for Totsuka, figuring I’d stroll around with him and pretend we were on a date. Totsuka, though, had his own small entourage of girls. This gaggle was so intense that anyone who didn’t know what a timid guy Totsuka was would think he was being bullied.

With Hayama, there were three boys who were supposed to constitute a separate group as well as Miura’s clique. I caught sight of Yuigahama with them, too. My attempt at a sporadic headcount told me about five groups had arrived at our site.

I wasn’t really good with crowds. Sometimes when I went out on weekends, I ended up wanting to go home just because there were a lot of people around. So naturally, I ended up just trailing along at the heels of their group. Good old Hachiman, taking rear guard. If I were a general of the Warring States period, this would be deserving of a medal of honor.

We—or rather, Hayama—had picked some familiar-sounding electronics manufacturer. The location wasn’t just the office building and research facility; there was also an adjacent museum. The company even had the perfect entertainment draw: The museum had a theater with a full 360-degree movie screen. If Hayama had picked this place randomly, he either was just lucky or had been born with some amazing intuition. If he’d chosen this place deliberately, though, anticipating the throngs of hangers-on, I was impressed by his consideration.

For me, though, the mecha-style exhibits were what held the most appeal, perfect for a loner. I was like a kid pining for a trumpet on the other side of the display window. Just pressing myself up against the glass and gazing at the machines whirring about excited for me.

The phrase we are not machines was likely originally coined by people resisting authoritarian control and sentences of hard labor, but it’s still absolutely true. We are not machines. That’s why sometimes cogs like me show up: they don’t fit in with the other parts, and you’re not quite sure what to use them for. If this were a model car, I’d call Tamiya about it.

But in reality, these kinds of extraneous parts do exist in machines. It’s what’s commonly referred to as play. This is what you call stuff like an extra length of chain or excess gear ratio. These things give the machine a bit of flexibility and apparently extend its service life. One of the researchers said that today. That both machines and humans need play.

Not that I ever got invited over to play, though…

Keeping a moderate distance from the group, I went to tour the machines. Boys and girls were having fun chattering and joking around with each other in front of me. Had I turned around, though, there’d have been no one behind me. The vacant space behind me was so utterly silent it hurt.

But the hard sound of heels clicking on the floor broke that silence. “Hikigaya. So you came.” Miss Hiratsuka was, uncharacteristically, not wearing her white coat. It was probably because if she had worn it here, she’d have been indistinguishable from staff, making things confusing.

“Patrolling?”

“Yeah, something like that,” the teacher replied, but her attention wasn’t fixed on the students at all. That was wholly devoted to the mecha-esque machines. “Phew… Japanese technology is amazing, huh? I wonder if they’ll make a Gundam in my lifetime.”

She really did have the brain of a little boy. She had this enchanted look in her eyes gazing at the steel bodywork, as if she was falling in love. Come on, please get yourself a real relationship, seriously.

I started to stroll with the thought that perchance I’d just leave her in my wake, but apparently, Miss Hiratsuka had noticed the sound of my footsteps, as she strode up beside me, matching my stride. “Oh, that reminds me, Hikigaya. About that contest…”

The contest… She meant the Service Club competition Yukinoshita and I had going over who would help the greater number of people. The winner would get to order the loser to do whatever they pleased.

Even though she was the one who’d broached the subject, Miss Hiratsuka hesitated. I prompted her to continue with a glance. She steeled herself and pressed on. “There was too much interference from variable elements, and the current framework isn’t manageable. So I think I’ll change some of the specifications.” The way she put it made it made it sound like the kind of excuse a video game maker would give, but basically, it sounded like the teacher was overwhelmed and running around with too much on her plate.

“I’m fine with that.” Either way, Miss Hiratsuka was the rulebook for this contest. I could protest, but her rules would change when they changed. The standards of the competition would be arbitrary and biased, anyway. Resistance was futile. “Have you decided on anything specific?”

“No… There’s just one kid I’m having trouble dealing with,” she said, scratching her head.

Hearing trouble dealing with brought Yuigahama suddenly to mind. The Service Club had originally been just me and Yukinoshita. Yuigahama had joined after that. Her presence could be called irregular. She was unquestionably the “variable element” Miss Hiratsuka had referred to. She hadn’t been part of the original plan, and yet now she was central to the Service Club. Then I supposed the competition would now be among the three of us: Yukinoshita, Yuigahama, and me.

“Huh… It looks like Mecha Mecha Road ends here,” the teacher said.

What the heck was Mecha Mecha Road?

“Once I’ve come up with some new specifications, I’ll update you. Come on, I won’t sabotage your chances,” Miss Hiratsuka teased, grinning brightly. I’ve only ever heard that line from villains, though… Miss Hiratsuka eased back down the Mecha Mecha Road from whence she came. I watched her go and then headed toward the exit.

Miss Hiratsuka had chewed my ear a little too long. Hayama and the others were already gone, and the empty bamboo thicket swayed in the early-summer wind, rustling like a flood of whispers. As the western sky began growing orange, I looked around the empty entrance area and found a familiar bun there. Unfortunately.

She was sitting on a big green rock, her knees drawn up as she occasionally fiddled with her cell phone. For an instant, I wondered if I should really talk to her. While I vacillated, though, she noticed me. “Oh, Hikki, you’re slow! Everyone already left!”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, my robot soul got excited in there. So where did this ‘everyone’ go?”

“Saize.” High schoolers in Chiba really do like Saize, huh? They’re a little too biased to it, in my opinion, even if the family restaurant chain did originate in Chiba. It’s amazingly cheap, and the food is good, though.

“You’re not going?”

“Huh?! Oh, well, like, I was sort of waiting for you, ish. Um…it’s, like, I’d just feel sorta bad if you got left behind…” Yuigahama glanced at me, tapping her pointer fingers together in front of her chest.

Her fidgeting made me smile. “You’re a nice person, Yuigahama.”

“Huh?! Uh, what? N-no, not really.” The sun was in the west, so maybe that was why Yuigahama’s face looked red as she violently flailed her hands to signal no.

I don’t know why she was denying it. I still thought she was nice. I considered her a good person. That was why I felt like I should let her know. “Listen, you don’t have to worry about me. It was just a coincidence that I saved your dog, and even if it hadn’t been for that accident, I’d probably still be a loner in high school, anyway. There’s absolutely no need for you to feel awkward about it. I guess I’m kind of burning myself saying this, though.” I really was burning myself, but given that this was about me, I knew it better than anyone. I’d probably never have been surrounded by friends, even if I’d started my high school career normally. No, definitely never.

“H-Hikki… You…remembered?” Yuigahama opened her big eyes wide and stared at me, her face full of shock.

“No, I don’t remember. But I heard you came to our house once to say thanks. Komachi told me.”

“Oh…Komachi, huh…?” she tittered, that shallow smile on her face again as she quietly looked down.

“Sorry. I guess I’ve actually made you weirdly careful around me. Well, from now on, you don’t have to worry about it. I’m the reason I’m a loner, anyway, and the accident had nothing to do with it. There’s no need for you to feel indebted to me or feel sorry for me… If that’s why you’re being nice to me, then just stop.” I was aware that my tone had gotten a little rough. Oh, this isn’t good. What am I getting so touchy for? This kind of thing isn’t important at all. I scratched my head to conceal my irritation. An oppressive silence flowed between us. This was the first time I’d ever found silence unpleasant. “So, uh, like…” Though I’d been inclined to open my mouth, I couldn’t find the words, and nothing definite came out.

Both of us at a loss for words, Yuigahama smiled faintly. “W-well, I dunno, but…it’s not really like that, though. It’s more like…like… It’s just not like that…” Still smiling, she looked down awkwardly. With her face turned away, I couldn’t see her expression anymore. I could only hear her thin voice shaking a little. “That’s…not it… It’s not…” Yuigahama trailed off, her voice quiet.

Yui Yuigahama was always kind, and she’d probably be kind until the end.

If the truth is cruel, the surely lies are kind. That’s why kindness is a lie.

“Oh, well, you know,” I began, and Yuigahama glared at me. There were tears in her eyes, but her gaze was strong and unwavering. I was the one who looked away.

“You jerk.” Leaving that remark behind, Yuigahama ran off, but once she was a few meters away, her steps became heavier, like she was trudging along.

I watched her go, then spun away from her again.

Maybe Yuigahama was going to Saize where all her friends were waiting. But that had nothing to do with me. I hate crowds, anyway. I also hate nice girls. They follow you around everywhere, like the moon above in the night sky, but they’re always unreachable. But I can’t keep them at a distance like I should. Just a simple exchange lingers in my mind. If we e-mail each other, I feel unsettled. If one calls me, I’ll dwell on my call history and feel my face falling into a grin.

But I know…I know that they’re just being nice. People who are nice to me are nice to others, too, and I feel as if I might forget that. I’m not dense. I’m actually pretty perceptive. Sensitive, even. And that causes an allergic reaction in me.

I’ve been through this sort of situation before. An experienced loner doesn’t fall for the same trick twice. Confessions of love as part of a punishment for losing at rock-paper-scissors don’t work on me, and neither do fake love letters from a girl written by boys. I’m a hardened veteran schooled in a hundred battles. I’m the best when it comes to losing.

Always having these expectations, always getting the wrong idea, constantly hoping… I’ve given up on all that.

That’s why I’ll always hate nice girls.