Yahari Ore no Seishun Love Come wa Machigatte Iru - Volume 4 - Chapter 3

3

Hayato Hayama is socially adept with everyone.

The jagged contour of a far-off ridge suddenly appeared in my field of vision. “Whoa, mountains,” I muttered.

“You’re right, there they are. Mountains,” Yukinoshita parroted with a nod.

Miss Hiratsuka followed suit. “Hmm. Indeed. Mountains.”

Chiba natives live in the embrace of the vast Kanto Plains, so crags and peaks are a rare sight for us. On very clear days, you can see Mount Fuji along the coastline, but you don’t get much of a chance to see any others, especially not lush green ones like these. That’s why even a glimpse of a mountain will get us excited. You wouldn’t expect Yukinoshita to be impressed, but even she let out a sigh of wonder.

After that, it was silent in the van. Yukinoshita and I watched the vistas roll by outside the windows.

Yuigahama’s head lay on Yukinoshita’s shoulder as she breathed gently in sleep. If I twisted around farther, I could see Komachi and Totsuka in the back row, also snoozing. At the beginning of our trip, they’d been bouncing around playing cards or Uno or something, but they must have gotten bored. As for me, I’d been obliged to converse with Miss Hiratsuka the whole time… Why did we have to recount our top ten anime to each other?

The sight of everyone sleeping gave rise to a few pangs of nostalgia, though. It was like the ride home on a bus after a field trip or a school camping trip. My classmates would expend all their energy and fall quiet with exhaustion after so much fun, but I would never really have an opportunity to tire myself out, so I would just stay fully alert and stare out the window the whole time.

The line of mountains loomed authoritatively over the high barriers to either side of the highway. The dark mouths of tunnels opened wide, illuminated with vivid orange lights. As I watched the scenery flowing past my window, I was assaulted by an intense sense of déjà vu.

…Now I remembered.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “Chiba Village was the place I went for that nature program back in middle school.”

“I believe it’s a resort located in Gunma prefecture, belonging to Chiba city,” Yukinoshita added.

“Oh, you’ve been there, too?”

“I returned here in ninth grade, so I didn’t participate in the nature program,” she explained. “I only know about the program at all because of the photos in the middle school graduation album.”

“You ‘returned’? From where? Actually, why did you come back?”

“My, you sound spiteful… Not that I care.” I turned to find Yukinoshita gazing out the window. It was open a crack, and the resulting wind was mussing her hair and hiding her expression from view. “I was studying abroad. Did I not tell you before? Your memory has the storage capacity of a floppy disk.”

“That’s not much… Don’t point any magnets at me, or I’ll forget everything.”

“Do kids your age know about floppy disks?” asked Miss Hiratsuka with considerable surprise.

Well, it wasn’t that long ago that you could still find PCs equipped with floppy-disk drives. The last holdouts. “Oh, I think they still had them right around the time I was born,” I said.

“I’m impressed you remember. Your memory is on par with an MO disk.” Miss Hiratsuka joined the conversation, chuckling in gleeful pleasure at her own witticism. But her choice of MO disk as a synonym for high memory capacity only provided evidence for her age.

“Uh, most people wouldn’t know about those…,” I said.

“I know about MDs, but…” Yukinoshita trailed off.

“Ngh! I can’t believe you don’t know about MO… So this is what it means to be young…” Miss Hiratsuka raised a tragic cry.

I somewhat pitied her, so I decided to soften the blow. I’m so nice. “Well, you know. MOs were mostly used by businesses, so they weren’t in common use in households. Just because she’s not familiar with them doesn’t necessarily mean you’re old.”

“Oh, so you do know about them!” Miss Hiratsuka reached out to punch me!

“Hey, hands on the wheel! The wheel!” I cried.

“Just remember, you’ll pay for that once we’re out of the van…,” she muttered.

“Please don’t have such high expectations for my MO-level storage banks,” I retorted. An MO can hold way more than a floppy disk, though.

The car zoomed toward Chiba Village. Though it was a weekday, there were a fair number of cars on the road. We even hit a few congested stretches, about a kilometer each.

“It’s surprisingly busy out, huh?” I commented.

“There’s plenty of campgrounds around here, and it’s also a popular spot for hot springs,” Miss Hiratsuka replied. “I thought it was customary to make middle school students from Chiba city walk around the Sarugakyou springs?”

“Uh, you can’t expect me to remember the names of every place…”

“I see. I suppose that’s because it holds so many painful memories for you… It’s understandable you would forget.”

“Don’t act like some old school outing is my dark past. I may not look it, but I’m an expert at field trips.”

“So you’re the type who comes out of his shell at parties, huh?” she said. “I know many students who are more outgoing during special events.”

“Uh, no… I meant I’m good at switching off my mind to make it through…,” I replied. When I had revisited the old photos in my middle school grad album, I had been startled by my dead expression. My classmates might have been even more alarmed. You know, like… Wait, was this guy with us?

“The plan is to stay two nights, just like that nature trip. Will you be okay?” asked Miss Hiratsuka.

“Two nights? Huh? We’re staying overnight? I didn’t pack anything!”

“It’s okay,” Yukinoshita cut in. “It looks like Komachi packed for him.”

That was when it clicked. Oh, so that’s what those bags were. I guess there’s two because one’s mine and one’s Komachi’s.

“Your little sister’s character is even better than I’d imagined,” Miss Hiratsuka marveled.

“Right?” I replied. “She’s my pride and joy. She’s delicate, dainty, and darling. All three Ds.”

“Functionally, that’s only one…” Yukinoshita rolled her eyes.

After exiting the highway onto a side street, we turned off again onto a mountain road. The minivan smoothly ascended up the twists and turns of the slope.

When I stepped out of the van, I smelled the rich scent of grass. Somehow, the oxygen felt richer here. Maybe it was the lush green forest making me feel that way. A few buses were parked in a small open area: the Chiba Village parking lot. Miss Hiratsuka had stopped the van there.

“Hnnn! I feel great!” Yuigahama got out and stretched as wide as she could.

“…Yes, I’m sure you do, after using someone else’s shoulder as a pillow for your lengthy nap,” Yukinoshita sharply retorted.

Yuigahama put both her hands together and apologized. “Urk… I-I’m sorry, geez!”

“Wow…we really are in the mountains,” Totsuka commented, filled with wonder as he stepped up behind the girls. Longing for the hills as one who lives on the plains—he was indeed a Chiba native.

“I came here just last year, though!” said Komachi, but she was taking in the mountain air and enjoying herself well enough.

Well, I was no Yuigahama, but the comfortable light filtering through the trees and the cool wind blowing over the plateau were indeed pleasant. Someday, I’d like to isolate myself in a place like this and become a hermit. I’d do all my shopping online.

“Yeah, the air’s so sweet,” Miss Hiratsuka remarked, just before lighting a cigarette. How can you even tell if it’s sweet or not? “We’ll go the rest of the way on foot. Unload your things from the van,” she said, letting out a deep breath, as if the atmosphere was truly marvelous.

As instructed, we unloaded the van, and that was when another one drove up. Well, the place had a campground and stuff, too, so I shouldn’t have been surprised that there were regular visitors. It was a public facility, so it was cheap. Maybe this was one of those great destinations not many people knew about. After the van unloaded its passengers, it returned along the same road. Apparently, it had only come to drop off a group of four young boys and girls. They looked like they would be at home in something called Love Story of Four Boys and Girls, the type of people you’d see biting into midsummer fruit. They were the kind who would have a barbecue or something on the sandbar of a river, get left behind, and end up having to call for rescue. Or go hiking in regular street clothes as if it were a picnic and get themselves stranded.

As my mind wandered, one member of the quartet turned to me with a casual wave. “Hey, Hikitani.”

“…Hayama?” To my surprise, Hayama was among them. And he wasn’t the only one there. Upon closer inspection, I recognized his whole posse. There was Miura; Tobe, the blonde party type; Ebina, the intense fujoshi… Huh? Where’s assimilating virgin Ooka? “Why are you here?” I asked. “Did you come for a barbecue? If so, I recommend doing it on a river sandbar.”

“Oh, we’re not here for a barbecue.” Hayama gave a wry smile. “I wouldn’t have had my parents drive us all the way here for something like that.”

Okay, so that’s not it. Guess I should recommend hiking in street wear, I thought to myself.

Miss Hiratsuka crushed her cigarette. “Hmm. Looks like everyone’s here.”

Everyone’s here? I guess that meant Hayama’s crew was a part of the plan all along.

“Now then, do you know the reason I’ve called you all here today?” she asked.

We all exchanged glances. “I heard we were staying here two nights for a volunteer activity,” Yukinoshita offered.

Totsuka nodded. “Yes, we’re helping out, right?”

Beside them, Yuigahama responded with puzzlement. “Huh? It’s not like a cabin thing?”

“I heard that we were gonna be camping,” said Komachi.

“I never heard anything about this in the first place…,” I added. Come on, which one is the right answer? This is like a bad game of telephone.

“I heard that this would give us extra community service points for our student record…,” Hayama said with a smile that appeared rather strained.

“Huh? I came because I thought it was a free camping trip.” Miura tugged and sproinged her tightly wound curls.

“Yeah, right?” Tobe chimed in, combing up the long hair at the nape of his neck. “I mean, if it’s free, man, you gotta!”

“I heard that Hayama and Tobe would be camping, hnnnggg.” Ebina’s reason for being there was the only one that struck us as weird. And yes, she really did say that last part.

Miss Hiratsuka gave a mildly long-suffering sigh. “Hmm. Well, you’re all more or less right, so I’ll leave it at that. You’re going to be engaging in some volunteer activities over the next few days.”

“Um, what kind of volunteering…?”

“For some reason, the principal has ordered me to supervise service activities for the region…,” she said. “That’s why I’ve brought all of you here. You will be working as support staff for an elementary school camping trip, helping out the workers here at Chiba Village, the teachers, and the children. In short: You’re doing odd jobs. More frankly: You’re slaves.”

I wanna go home… Even shady companies will sugarcoat the job description at first. Well, hiding their practices is precisely the reason they’re called shady, though.

“This is also a camp for the Service Club, and as Hayama said, you may receive extra points in my unofficial scoring system depending on your performance,” Miss Hiratsuka continued. “During your free time, you may go have fun.”

Aha, I see. Everyone had basically grasped the situation, in their own ways. They had just absorbed only the parts that interested them.

“Well then, let’s get going. Once you’ve dropped off your bags in the main building, you’re going to work,” she said, taking the lead.

We all plodded after her. Still, we didn’t exactly form a unified group. Yukinoshita and I followed immediately behind, with Komachi and Totsuka behind us and Yuigahama trailing farther back. At the rear, Hayama and the others lagged after us. With Yuigahama in the middle, we somehow managed to pass for one single group.

The path from the parking lot to the main building was paved. As we trudged along a little gloomily, Yukinoshita said, “Um…may I ask why Hayama and his friends are here?”

“Hmm? Oh, are you talking to me?” Miss Hiratsuka turned around.

“Well, she’s asking so politely, so she’s got to be,” I commented. Miss Hiratsuka was probably the only person Yukinoshita would speak to with such courtesy, I thought.

Yukinoshita gave me a disturbingly sunny smile. “Oh, that’s not necessarily the case, good sir. It is my opinion that polite language can be employed not only when speaking to one’s superiors, but also to distance oneself from another. Don’t you agree, Mr. Hikigaya?”

“Oh, yes. You’re quite right, Miss Yukinoshita,” I replied, as both of us forced odd, haughty laughter.

Miss Hiratsuka cut off our exchange. “You two never change. Oh, and as for the reason I invited Hayama’s group… It was looking like we wouldn’t have enough people, so I posted a recruitment flyer on the school bulletin board. I suppose you didn’t see it. I didn’t think anyone would apply for this, though…”

“Then why did you go to the trouble of posting a flyer?” I asked.

“It was just a formality. It wouldn’t be very interesting if it looked like I was only focusing on you guys. It was for the sake of appearances. I’m no good at dealing with normal kids and all their energy. The sight of them wounds me emotionally.”

Listening to her was wounding me emotionally. Please! Someone marry this woman!

“Still, I’m a teacher. I have to treat you as impartially as possible,” she continued.

“Uh-huh. Sounds rough, being a teacher.” She can call it preferential behavior or special treatment or whatever she wants, but all she does is beat me up.

“Not just teachers. It would be more accurate to say that of all adults. Situations like this often occur out in the real world,” Miss Hiratsuka said, her expression darkening.

To become a member of an organization also means to bear the burden of its flaws. And that’s not even getting into how you’re forced to consider your far-off future when you conduct yourself for long-term employment. You bow even when you don’t want to, attend drinking parties you despise, and listen to things you’d rather not hear. You don’t just run into people you hate every single day; you have to collaborate with them. If you want to avoid that, you have no choice but to become a househusband or a NEET. Not only do you have to do your job, you have to deal with all the social crap, too. It’s like a sadistic game. Do they even properly compensate you for dealing with your coworkers? It’s weird that there’s no additional pay for that. I really have to avoid getting a job.

Miss Hiratsuka smiled gently back at me and Yukinoshita. “This is a good opportunity for you two. You need to learn the skills necessary to get along with another social circle.”

“Uh, not gonna happen. We’re not gonna be friends with them,” I said.

“That’s not what I mean, Hikigaya. You don’t have to be friends. I’m saying you should get along. You need to gain the skills necessary to deal with them smoothly, with no trouble, in a professional manner, neither antagonizing them nor ignoring them. That’s what it means to conform to society.”

“I dunno…” If I’m not allowed to ignore them, then I’ve got no tactics left.

“…” Yukinoshita’s response was silence. She did not reply or object, but neither did she acquiesce.

Miss Hiratsuka regarded us with a wry expression. “Well, you don’t have to do it right now. Just keep it in mind.” We continued walking in silence.

Getting along, huh…? It probably wouldn’t be that hard. Becoming friends is a matter of feelings, but smooth interactions are simply a matter of skill. Starting new conversations, nodding in agreement, showing you sympathize with their concerns. In so doing, you narrow down your opponent’s strike zone and indirectly reveal to them the range of your own defenses. I could probably squeak by. At first, I probably wouldn’t be very good at striking up conversation, and the back-and-forth might grind to a halt. I might make the wrong replies. But just as with other skills, I would be able to learn it through repetition and practice. After all, the entire process of “getting along” is nothing more than a cycle of deception. You’re lying to yourself and others. They acknowledge that they’re being deceived, and you acknowledge that they’re deceiving you.

It’s no big deal. In the end, it’s no different from what all those other kids learn and put into practice at school. This ability is necessary if you want to associate yourself with a group or an organization, and the only difference between how children and adults use it is scale.

In the end, it’s nothing more than falsehood, suspicion, and deceit.

We left our bags in the main building and were subsequently hustled off to somewhere called the meeting plaza. Waiting there was a group of nearly a hundred elementary school kids. I thought they were all in sixth grade, but their wide range of sizes made for a motley crowd. When you look at high school students in uniform or salarymen in business suits, there’s a uniformity that prevents even large crowds from looking disordered. But everyone in this teeming mass of kids was wearing whatever they wanted, and the brightly colored palette made for a chaotic picture.

Nearly everyone was talking at the same time, which was terribly loud. Their squawking was unbelievably obnoxious and overwhelming. Once you reach high school, you almost never see a group of elementary schoolers up close. The sheer power (to put it nicely) was startling. Is this a zoo or what?

Looking to the side, I saw Yuigahama slowly backing away, and Yukinoshita’s face had blanched a little.

A teacher was standing right in front of the kids, but there was no indication that anything was getting started. The instructor was just intently studying a watch. After a few minutes had passed, the kids seemed to notice something was going on and began settling down. There was chatter…whispers…and then silence… “All right, it just took three minutes for everyone to quiet down,” said the teacher.

Th-th-th-there it is! This was the legendary sentence that teachers always use to open a lecture during school assemblies and meetings. To think I would hear it again at my age…

As I had predicted, the teacher started with a reprimand. I guess this was the standard method for teachers to let their kids have it and quash their excitement at going on a trip. I remember the experience from my time in elementary school, too.

After the scolding, the teacher announced the plan for the day. The first activity for day one was apparently orienteering. I think you also call them stamp rallies. All the kids opened their school camping trip guidebooks as they listened to the explanation. On the cover was an anime-style illustration. Oh, that must mean a girl drew it. Probably some committee girl or one with artistic skills, like, I—I could draw it if you want… I could only pray that down the road, this would not become a skeleton in her closet.

“All right, and finally, let’s introduce the boys and girls who will be helping us out. Let’s give them a warm welcome! Hello!”

“Hello!” the students chorused. It was one of those formalities, those group chants like the drawn-out Thanks for the fooood everyone has to say before eating the school lunch. It’s like the call-and-response at school graduation ceremonies. They’re like, The field triiiip! and then we reply with Left us with so many memories! That sort of thing. I had to join the chant, too, and I was indeed left with many unpleasant recollections. It wasn’t a lie.

Suddenly, all the children’s eyes were on us. That was when Hayama took a soft step forward. “We’re going to be helping out for the next three days,” he said. “If you need anything, feel free to ask us any time. I hope this camping trip will be a wonderful experience for you all. I’m glad to meet you guys!”

The crowd broke out into applause. The elementary school girls were squeeing, and the teachers were clapping with gusto.

Whoa, Hayama’s amazing. He’s a natural at this. Not many people can make a speech appropriate for that age level without any prior planning. If it were a matter of mere skill, Yukinoshita could possibly pull it off, too, but… “You’re the captain of the Service Club,” I said to her. “Why don’t you say something?”

“I don’t really like standing in front of people.”

No surprises there. She already drew attention without even trying. That reality had caused her certain hardships… Maybe she didn’t like deliberately exposing herself like that.

“I do love standing above them, though…,” she added.

Do you, now…?

“All right, let’s begin the orienteering.” At the teacher’s signal, the students clumped into groups of five or six. They must have decided who was going with who beforehand, as the process finished quickly. They would probably be in the same groups for the whole trip.

Maybe for elementary school kids, dividing into groups isn’t often a cause for upset. Everyone looked similarly cheerful anyway. I suppose at that age, the school castes hadn’t yet become set in stone. Once they went on to middle school and high school, they would undergo a brutal and precise segregation. Their time in elementary school would be a brief and sheltered paradise. Man, elementary schoolers are the best! …Being one, I mean.

At loose ends during this process, us big kids ended up clustering together ourselves. As we surveyed the mass of children, Tobe ruffled his hair and commented, “Man, elementary school kids are so tiny! We’re, like, totally old.”

“Hey, could you not talk like that, Tobe? You’re making me sound like an old bag.” Miura shot him a threatening glare.

“Hey, I’m not being serious! That’s not what I meant!” Tobe defended himself, flustered. For an instant, I thought I felt Miss Hiratsuka’s eyes on us, but it was probably my imagination. I very much prayed that was the case.

“But when we were in elementary school, high school kids seemed so adult, huh?” Totsuka sounded nostalgic. I guess Tobe’s comment struck a chord with him.

Komachi touched her pointer finger to her chin and tilted her head. “High schoolers seem adult to me, too, you know? Not counting my brother.”

“…Hey,” I protested. “I’m super grown-up, though. I make idle complaints, tell dirty lies, and do unfair things.”

“You sound like ‘A Night at Fifteen,’ and that’s not mature at all, Bro,” Komachi retorted.

“Is that your mental image of adults, Hikki?!” Yuigahama joined in.

Giggling, Totsuka patted me on the back. “Maybe you don’t see it much at home, Komachi, but at school, Hachiman seems very adult. He’s so calm and composed. Right?”

“T-Totsuka…” I was so touched, I almost sobbed.

Suddenly, a cold voice interjected with an edge of scorn. “He only looks that way because he has no one to talk to. It would be more accurate to say that he is isolated and miserable.” When I turned around, Yukinoshita’s face was frozen in a chilly smile.

I faced her, returning her frigid expression with one of my own, and pitched my voice high as I haughtily replied, “…How would you know how I act in class? Are you stalking me? Are you aware of antiharassment laws? Would you like to have your life ruined?”

“That one was even better than last time…,” said Yuigahama with an astonished grin.

Beside her, there came the snap of a foot breaking a dead twig. “…Was that…supposed to be an impression of someone?” Even though it was summer, I could have sworn I saw a blizzard blowing around behind Yukinoshita.

Your smile keeps twitching, and it’s really freaking me out! I’m sorry!

Hayama, who had been listening to our exchange from the side, nodded as if he’d just figured something out. “Oh, I see. So that girl is your sister, Hikitani. She didn’t look enough like Totsuka to be related to him,” he said, moving to stand in front of Komachi.

Hey, not so close…

“I’m Hayato Hayama,” he said. “I’m in Hikitani’s class. It’s nice to meet you, Komachi.”

“Y-yeah, it’s nice to meet you, too. Thanks for always being so kind to my brother.” Komachi took a step back in mild alarm and then half hid behind Yuigahama to observe him from a greater distance.

“There’s no way she could be Sai-chan’s little sister, Hayato!” said Yuigahama. “She looks more like she’d be Yukinon’s sister!”

You’re just talking about her hair color…

Hayama shook his head. “No, Yukinoshita doesn’t have a younger sister.”

“Oh, reall— Wait. How do you know that, Hayato?” Yuigahama asked.

“Well, I…” Hayama glanced over in Yukinoshita’s direction.

Yukinoshita did not engage with him and kept facing the elementary school kids. “I wonder what we’re supposed to do?”

“Oh yeah,” said Hayama. “I’ll go call over Miss Hiratsuka.” He withdrew from the group, probably sensing the awkwardness in the air.

Yukinoshita really seemed to have something against Hayama. She was always severe with me, too, but with him, her snippiness was more aggressive. Her attitude toward Hayama struck me as more of an attempt to exclude. Maybe she’s allergic to normies or something. Well, actually, I’m allergic to them, too. Can you use antihistamines for this?

Once Hayama was gone, Komachi tiptoed up to me. “Oh no, Bro! What a disaster!”

“What?”

“You’ve got zero chance of winning against that hottie! That’s a red light!”

“Shut up. Leave me alone.” She came all the way over just to tell me that? What a dumb sister I have. I mean, I have no interest in competing with Hayama over anything in the first place. As long as he doesn’t do anything to me, I don’t give a damn about him.

But a follow-up attack came from an unexpected source. “She’s right,” Ebina added. “This could be rough. Your aura just screams ‘bottom,’ Hikitani, and not only that, you’re especially weak. If Hayama makes his move, you’ll go down immediately.”

“I—I see… I’ll watch out for that,” I replied. Now that I think if it, this was the first time Ebina and I had ever spoken. I wanted to earnestly pray that there would never be a second, if possible. What the heck is a bottom aura? I’m not emitting anything like that.

Meanwhile Hayama had returned with Miss Hiratsuka in tow, and she explained our role. “So what we’ll be asking you to do for this orienteering activity is to prepare the meals at the goal. You’ll set out box lunches and drinks for the kids. I’ll bring everything there first in the van.”

“Are we riding in the van, too?” I asked.

“There’s not enough room for that. Walk quickly. Oh, and be sure to get there before the kids do.”

If we were supposed to be preparing their lunches, it would indeed be bad if we didn’t reach the goal before the kids. Already a fair number of children had set off. We should probably hurry it up.

Orienteering is a sport where you pass through established checkpoints on the field of play in a fixed order, competing to reach the goal in a set amount of time. Yes, it’s apparently a sport. It’s supposed to be a fairly serious competition, rushing as fast as you can with a map and a compass. But what the elementary school kids were doing that day was not a real race. It was basically just for fun. They meandered around the mountain in small clusters, and when they reached the checkpoints on their maps, they would answer a quiz. They were scored based on the number of correct answers they had and the time it took to complete the course.

Upon reflection, I remembered doing an activity like this before, too. My group had been full of abysmal idiots, though, so our answers had been a disaster. I was the only one who knew the right answers, but the group hadn’t listened to me when I mumbled them, so in the end, we’d had a pile of wrong answers, and everyone was moaning, like, Aww maaaan…

The plateau was cool even at the height of summer, and the leaves rustled softly with each gust. We weren’t actually participating, so we headed straight for the goal. On the way, we caught sight of kids hunting around for signs, their heads all bunched together over their tiny pieces of paper as they solved the questions. Everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves, so that was good.

Every time Hayama or Miura noticed the kids, they would call out, “You can do it!” or “The goal’s waiting for you!” just like proper camp volunteer types. It was only natural that Hayama would do that, but I was a little surprised to see Miura joining in.

“Hey, hey, Hayato,” she said. “I actually kinda like these kids. Aren’t they supercute?”

…She was just saying the word cute in an attempt to make herself look cute. I thought about trying to emphasize my own lovability, but as a guy, it would only result in accusations of having a Lolita complex, so I decided against it.

Once Hayama and Miura started calling out to the kids, Tobe, Ebina, Totsuka, and Yuigahama followed suit. What friendly boys and girls. And they were all attractive people, so the children would latch on to them immediately.

We ran into several little parties, some of them more than once, apparently. I wasn’t watching all that closely, and I wasn’t really engaging them, so I didn’t remember much. Actually, I just couldn’t tell them apart. They were uniformly loud and excited and radiating boundless energy. On one path that turned off to the side, we encountered a gang of five girls. They were especially energetic, active looking, and fairly fashionably dressed. Their interactions with each other made them sound like a giggling gaggle of gossips. I got the impression that this quintet would become central figures in their grade level once they went on to middle school. They were normie eggs, so to speak.

Apparently, such girls admired high schoolers, especially in-crowd types like Hayama and Miura. They went out of their way to come talk to us, in a mostly one-on-one fashion. And that meant none were approaching me nor poor little Yukinoshita. No indeed.

They would begin the conversation with the polite formalities and then go on to chat about fashion and sports and middle school… As they walked along with us, we ended up hunting down their checkpoint with them.

“Okay, we’ll help you with just this one. But you’ve got to keep it a secret from everyone else, okay?” said Hayama. The kids cheerfully agreed.

Sharing a secret, huh? I was rather impressed. So this was another one of those techniques for greasing the wheels with people.

I would generally describe these girls as a bunch of cheerful and openhearted types, but one thing about them bothered me. Most of these little clusters had a proper sense of unity, or else they would be divided into two mini-groups with a loose connection, creating a single unit. With this group alone, you could detect an irregularity. One of the five was walking about two steps behind the others.

Her limbs were long and slender, and her straight black hair gleamed purple. Her impression was somewhat more mature than the other girls’, and her feminine attire also seemed more refined. Honestly, she was more than a bit cute. She drew considerable attention. But even so, nobody seemed concerned that she was falling behind.

Oh, they noticed. The other four girls occasionally looked back at her, conveying things only they understood with smiles and stifled giggles. There was less than one meter between the outlier and the rest. It would only be natural for an observer to group them together. But there was a screen between them that could not be seen, an invisible wall, a distinct break.

The girl had a digital camera hanging from her neck, and occasionally, she touched it as if she had nothing else to do. But she didn’t take any pictures. A camera, huh? When I was in elementary school, digital cameras were not yet mainstream, and everyone was using those disposable ones, like QuickSnap or whatever. I would go buy a new one every time, but I didn’t have any friends and I didn’t take group pictures, so I couldn’t use up all twenty-four. Instead, I’d go back home and end up finishing off the film roll with pictures of Komachi’s dog. Digital cameras are nice because you can take—or not take—as many photos as you want.

At the very back of the group, the girl’s eyes wandered toward things the rest of her party ignored. Just as Stand users are drawn to one another, loners also apparently excel at discovering their kind.

“…”

Yukinoshita let out a small sigh. Apparently, she had also noticed the uniqueness of this girl. Well, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. There comes a time or two in life when you should face isolation. No, you have to. Constantly being accompanied, having someone by your side always and forever—that is far more abnormal and creepy. I’m positive you can only learn and feel certain things when you’re alone. If there are lessons to gain from having friends, then so also are there lessons from not having friends. These two things are two sides of the same coin and should be treated as equally valuable. So this moment, too, will also have worth for that girl.

With that conviction in my heart, I decided to pretend that I hadn’t noticed. Leave it, leave it. But, well, there are many people in this world who wouldn’t agree.

“Have you found the checkpoint?” Hayama called out to the girl.

“…No,” she replied, giving him an uncomfortable smile.

Hayama grinned back at her. “Okay. Then let’s all look for it together. What’s your name?”

“Rumi…Tsurumi.”

“I’m Hayato Hayama. Nice to meet you. Don’t you think it might be hidden over there?” he said, guiding Rumi with a hand to her back.

…OMG, Hayama!!

“Did you see that just now?” I said to Yukinoshita. “He was super-natural about inviting her to join in, and he casually asked her name.”

“I saw it. It was a feat you’d never manage, even if you spent your whole life trying,” she said with a disparaging sniff. Then, her expression immediately hardened. “But I can’t say that’s a very good way to go about it.”

Hayama escorted Rumi right into the middle of the group. But she didn’t look particularly happy about it. Just as before, she was looking away from the other girls, focusing on the gaps between the trees or the pebbles on the path.

Rumi wasn’t the only one who wasn’t enjoying herself. As she joined her companions, a flash of tension quieted their chatter for a moment. It didn’t go so far as hate, but you could sense her presence was an intrusion. They didn’t openly avoid her. They didn’t reveal their feelings by clicking their tongues or kicking the ground in frustration. They didn’t attack her. They communicated via atmosphere alone. Without even raising their voices, their accusation was clear. Their violence was nonverbal, nonphysical, and nonactive: just coercive.

Yukinoshita sighed as if to say this was just what she expected. “Of course…”

“So it even happens with elementary schoolers, huh?” I commented.

Yukinoshita looked at me. “There’s no difference between children in elementary school or children in high school. They’re all human.”

Though Rumi was briefly allowed into the center of the group, before you knew it, she was ejected once again. She hadn’t spoken to anyone or vice versa, so her exclusion was obviously a matter of course. From a distance, I saw her fingers brush her digital camera again.

The map said there was a signpost nearby that would be the checkpoint. With so many people looking for it, we’d find it soon enough.

Before long, we discovered the somewhat grimy signboard planted in the shade of the trees. It had probably been white originally, but wind and rain had turned it a brownish color. There was a sheet tacked to it, so now the kids just had to solve the problems on the paper.

“Thank you very much!” they chirped, and we parted ways. They were most likely going to go on to search for the next checkpoint, and we headed off to get to the end of the race before they did.

I looked back just in time to see Rumi, exactly one step behind the others, disappear into the shade of the trees.

We marched through the trees and emerged out into an open area. This point, situated halfway up the mountain, seemed to be the goal. I figured this was another plaza. Now it was time to make preparations to welcome the students at the finish line.

“Oh, you’re late,” said Miss Hiratsuka as she stepped out of the van. “We don’t have time to chat, so can I ask you to unload this and set everything out?” There must have been another mountain road up here that didn’t follow the orienteering course.

Miss Hiratsuka opened up the trunk of the van to reveal a pile of lunch boxes and assorted drinks in foldout containers. I was a little sweaty, so the cool air wafting out of the interior was pleasant. The boys did the manual labor and carried out the containers. “We’ve also chilled some pears for dessert,” she said, jerking a thumb at something behind her.

I could hear the trickling burbles of a brook, so the fruit must have been soaking in the running water.

“I have some knives here, so get those peeled and cut, too.” Miss Hiratsuka patted a basket. It was packed with fruit knives and mini cutting boards, as well as serving implements such as paper plates and toothpicks.

But peeling enough pears for all those kids would be a ton of work. Plus, we also had to set out the box lunches.

“It looks like it would be best to divide up the labor,” Hayama said, considering the intimidating amount of work before us.

Studying her fake nails, Miura said, “I’m not gonna be slicing any fruit.”

“Yeah, I can’t cook,” added Tobe.

“I guess I’d be fine doing either,” said Ebina.

Hayama thought for a moment. “Hmm… How should we do it, then? I doubt it’ll take many people to set out the lunches, so… Okay, why don’t the four of us take care of that, then?”

“Okay, then we’ll do the pears,” replied Yuigahama, and we split into two groups.

“…Are you okay not doing setup?” I asked her as we went down to retrieve the fruit from the brook.

“Huh? Why wouldn’t I be? …Oh, I get it. You’re saying that ’cause I’m bad at cooking, aren’t you? I can peel pears, at least!”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” I meant that she was friends with Miura’s clique, so wouldn’t it bother her to be over here with us instead? But whatever. We took the pears back to the plaza, got out the knives and other utensils, and went straight to work. Yukinoshita and Yuigahama handled the peeling, and me, Totsuka, and Komachi laid the slices out on the plates and stuck toothpicks in them.

Yukinoshita began skillfully slicing off the skin. Beside her, Yuigahama was rolling up her sleeves, bursting with confidence. Although she was already wearing short sleeves. “Heh. I’ve gotten a lot better, you know,” she said.

“Oh? I look forward to seeing your results. I suppose this is where I ask you to show me what you’ve got.” Yukinoshita chuckled, but…her expression gradually clouded.

The pear that Yuigahama had peeled had developed an hourglass figure: voluptuous, sexy, and curvy. Is this supposed to be some kind of hand-carved Buddha figure or what? Why is it so lumpy…? She’s got unbelievable antiskill when it comes to cooking.

“Wh-why?!” she cried. “But I watched my mom do it so many times!”

“Just watched, huh…?” I commented.

An aura of despair hung over us. Yukinoshita sighed and plucked the knife and pear from Yuigahama with an expression of determination. Her knife smoothly slid along the fruit with a satisfying schloop. “Yuigahama, you hold the knife steady and turn the pear.”

“L-like this?”

“No. You cut level with the skin. If the angle of the blade is too deep, you’ll shave off the flesh,” she said. “You’re too slow… No. If you don’t do it quickly, your hands will warm up the pear, and it won’t be chilled.”

“Are you my mother-in-law?! Yukinon, you’re scary when you’ve got a knife in your hands!”

“Sorry, but we don’t have much time,” I said. “Leave the cooking lesson for later.” I took the pear and tossed it to Komachi. “Komachi.”

“Gotcha!” She caught the pear and began effortlessly peeling it with a leftover paring knife.

“You can do the toothpicks instead,” I said to Yuigahama.

“Aww…,” Yuigahama groaned, not at all pleased, but she reluctantly relinquished the knife to me.

Now that we’d switched places, it wouldn’t do for me to look incompetent, too, so I did my best to be even more careful than usual. As I rotated the pear, I stripped off the peel to expose the juicy, ripe flesh within, like an old movie villain pulling the obi off a naive girl as she spun around and around. Come on, little miss, come on, I mentally prodded it. All right, all right, it seems I’ve still got the touch. When I say I aspire to be a househusband, I’m not joking around. I’ll spare no effort if it means not having to get a job.

Totsuka peeked at the pear in my hands, his eyes sparkling. “Wow, Hachiman. You’re really good at this.”

“Ugh! It’s true! You’re stupidly good,” agreed Yuigahama. “It’s creepy.”

“‘Ugh’? What’s that supposed to mean? …Wait, huh? It’s creepy?” Privately, I was shocked.

“…It’s true—you’re quite good at it for a boy.” A rare compliment from Yukinoshita.

Wait, wasn’t this actually the first time? Reflexively, I turned to look at her.

“…However.” Before her was a warren of pear rabbits. “You still have a long way to go.” The triumphant smile on her face was stunning. She had made so many decorative slices in such a short period of time just to show off how much better she was… This girl was way too competitive…

“Pear skins are tough, so wouldn’t it be easier to eat with no peel…? I get it; I lost, geez.” I acknowledged my defeat.

“Oh dear, I wasn’t intending to make it a competition, though,” Yukinoshita replied. But she was clearly pleased…

I was a little annoyed, but Yukinoshita in high spirits meant that we could get the work done quickly, so I left it at that.

Apparently, Yukinoshita was cheerful enough to be talkative, as she struck up a conversation with Komachi beside her. “You’re studying for exams right now, aren’t you? Here’s a question for you. Which prefecture produces the most pears?”

“Yamanashi, right?” Komachi replied.

“Hey, don’t answer instantly when you actually have no idea,” I said. “At least take a little time to think.” Komachi’s response made me sad. Was she actually studying for her exams? It might be a good idea to supervise her study quite closely once we got home.

Yukinoshita gave Komachi a vaguely strained smile. “Well, you can start learning about that now, and there’s still time before your exams…” Next, she turned to Yuigahama. “Now then, Yuigahama, what’s the correct answer?”

I suppose Yuigahama had been expecting this question, as she replied with full confidence. “Heh…it’s Tottori!”

“Wrong. You need to repeat middle school,” said Yukinoshita.

“You’re being way meaner to me than you were with Komachi!”

Because you’re older… Of course Yukinoshita would have different expectations. Tottori was actually close, though. About ten years ago, it would have been in first. Now it was around third.

Komachi listened to Yuigahama’s response and suddenly burst into an ominous cackle. “…Heh-heh-heh. Now I know the answer. If Tottori is wrong, that means…the right answer is Shimane!”

“No, it is not. And I’m unclear as to how your first statement entails the next…”

“Well, Tottori and Shimane do kinda feel the same…” Chiba people are bad at geography when it comes to anywhere far away. And speaking of geography, all I care about is Chiba’s ranking within our region. Tokyo and Kanagawa are obviously at the top, but I’ve got my hands full fiercely battling Saitama for third.

“So, what is it, Yukinoshita?” asked Totsuka.

“The correct answer is Chiba prefecture,” she announced.

“I’d expect nothing less of the great Yukipedia,” I said. “Can we just call you Chibapedia now?”

“That doesn’t even have my name in it anymore…,” Yukinoshita said, exasperated.

Odd. In my books, that title is the highest compliment.

“Wow, so Chiba’s number one,” Totsuka said, sounding impressed. “Are Chiba pears pretty famous?” Even Chiba natives vary widely in their knowledge of their home.

“In Chiba city, not really, but outside the city they’re a big deal,” I told him. “They’re famous enough that at some schools, you’ll get suspended if you take someone’s pear. And if you eat it, you get expelled.”

“Your Chiba knowledge is the kind that would never show up on entrance exams…,” Yukinoshita commented. Apparently, not even the great Chibapedia was aware of that factoid. I guess that settled my victory in the Undisputed Championship Match of Chiba Trivia.

Despite all our chatting, we had been working briskly, and the job was soon done. When I looked up, I saw a stream of kids arriving.

After that, the task of handing out the lunch boxes and pears to the starving elementary schoolers commanded our full attention.