2
We meet Meguri Shiromeguri once more.
The eyes say as much as the mouth—or so they say. But to be more precise, the eyes are way more loud and annoying than the mouth.
Class was over, and it was time for SHR, and then we’d be going home. In elementary schooler terms, this was the day-end circle. SHR as an acronym is frankly incomprehensible. When I first heard that term, I didn’t think it meant ‘short homeroom’; I thought it was like a race that went all across the North American continent or something.
I could feel people staring at me again today, and I glanced backward. Since normally nobody ever pays attention to me, I have a sixth sense for it like this. Wow, that’s a sad habit.
Upon turning around, they were there. Girls from my class. Whoa, am I suddenly popular or something? I began to think, but of course that wasn’t what was going on.
Their eyes, narrowed and curved like crescent moons, held contempt and scorn, and I looked away again. Then I heard a short, shrill laugh. The back of my neck stung with their looks of mixed hate and curiosity.
Those looks were not coming from the girls at the top, headed by Miura, but rather the clique ranked one below them. Their key figure was Minami Sagami, who had spent another day moping and sighing. I’m so hurt; I feel so awful.
Though it wasn’t enough to call this a cause for dispute, there was a slight rift between myself and Sagami. Well, there’s a rift between me and the majority of the people in the school, but this wasn’t your average lack of connection. Our rift was born from pure emotion, from spite.
And it was the biggest pain in the butt.
If we’d been perfectly ignoring and not acknowledging one another, if we just had nothing to do with each other, then we could have maintained a constant distance on both ends with no eventual point of contact.
But once feelings have changed your positions, things are different. Even if you distance yourselves, you’re bound to clash again, eventually.
If you hate someone so much that you don’t want to get involved with them, then your best bet is ignoring the hell out of them. That form of ostracism is as natural as breathing: the ideal. There’s a knack to hating someone.
Everyone started leaving their seats, ignoring the announcements coming from the homeroom teacher.
They all did their own things: Some immediately dashed out of the classroom, some started up a momentary conversation with those next to them, and some slowly got ready to go.
As for me, I stayed in the classroom, playing it cool and pretending I really did still have something to do so I could gather information about that e-mail from Miura.
Now that school was done, the place was smelling even more like teen spirit.
Of the crowd, the ones gathered at the back of the class—Hayama and Tobe, plus Miura’s clique—were playing out that very standard cliché.
“Then I’m going to my club,” said Yuigahama.
“Yeah, see ya. Oh, Yui. I’m going shopping on Saturday.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll definitely come with. See ya,” Yuigahama replied, skillfully completing Miura’s statement.
Actually, Miura’s invitation was pretty damn sucky… That’s practically something I would do. Well, she’s the queen, so that’s how it goes. So wait, doesn’t that mean I’m basically like a king? *With no clothes, though.
Yuigahama waved casually at Miura and her friends, then left the classroom. She had to be heading to the clubroom. Watching her go, Miura seemed rather content. Apparently, Miura had accepted that Yuigahama was in a club. It seemed when you spelled out your intent clearly, Miura could be understanding, too. I had completed another lesson in the study of Miura.
Once Yuigahama was gone, Miura leaned against the wall like a queen bee with Ebina at her side. Hayama’s group also had to go to their club, so that was probably why they were already packed up and ready. After some chatting, they’d probably leave.
The classroom had one door at the front and one at the back. Inevitably, Hayama’s group would be seen by anyone exiting from the back. The others in the class would exchange good-byes and maybe a few words of conversation with Hayama and Miura’s group as they passed. What is this, the daimyo paying their respects on the way out of Edo?
But that sort of thing was just for those who were friendly with their clique. The ones who weren’t particularly on close terms with them would disappear softly through the door at the front.
Yet another left the classroom. That was Kawa…saki? Yeah, it was probably Kawasaki. What, does she have another after-school job or something?
As she passed by me, Kawasaki suddenly accelerated into a brisk stride, then practically a jog. And then once she was a certain distance away, she returned to her usual languorous pace.
When she got to the door, she glanced back. Her eyes met with mine, and she made an Urk! expression as if her words were stuck in her throat, bowed her head an inch, and marched off abruptly.
Guess that was her version of a farewell. What an idiot. Just say bye when you pass me.
After Kawasaki left, I zoned out for a while. Then Sagami and her friends passed by at the front, probably using that door to avoid Miura and her friends. That fact made it obvious Sagami had a distaste for Miura.
That aversion really was rubbing Miura the wrong way. Just as it had been with Yuigahama, what pissed off Miura the most was a cagey attitude.
That observation was enough of a start. Basically, if Sagami started acting in a way that didn’t irk Miura, then the problem would be resolved. The question would be how to accomplish that.
Well, the most effective strategy would probably be to run out the clock. In other words, they just had to leave each other alone until they wouldn’t be in the same class anymore. Or so I’d say, but since Yukinoshita wanted something done quickly, I guess we can’t do that…
Anyhow, as I ruminated over the information I’d just confirmed, I decided to head to the clubroom at a lazy stroll.
It was another peaceful teatime in the clubroom that day. At this rate, we’d be starting a band soon.
When I stepped into the room, the girls were already seated and leaning together in front of the computer. They were drinking black tea as they reached out for snacks, expressions pensive as they looked at the screen.
I sat down in my usual designated seat and sort of watched as they chatted about various things.
As far as I could tell, there was no tea for me, so I slurped on the hot, hot MAX Coffee I’d bought before coming to the clubroom.
This time of year, deep in fall and heading into winter, is the season of MAX Coffee. MAX Coffee is also great when spring has just passed and summer is approaching. In fact, MAX Coffee is great year-round.
The teatime snack that day was nure-senbei, a well-known souvenir from Choshi in Chiba. The official ones from the train stations in particular are probably the most famous. Chiba is known as a rice hot spot, and the prefecture is also a well-known producer of soy sauce. Chiba rice with soy sauce. Rice and soy sauce are the dreeeeeam (dream) collaboration.
…Well, if you asked me Does it go well with MAX Coffee? I suspect I’d be compelled to reply …I love Chiba, so! with a brisk smile.
As I was licking my lips over Chiba specialties (abbreviated as licking Chiba), Yukinoshita folded her arms with a hmm. “Now then, what do we do?”
Yuigahama also sounded like she was deep in thought. “Ohhh, about this, huh?”
It seemed the aforementioned new activity—the Chiba Prefecture–Wide Advice E-mail—was causing concern for them.
Request for advice from alias Megu Megu:
I’m looking for ideas for making the sports festival more fun. Also, since this is my last year, I absolutely want my team to win!
Nibbling at my nure-senbei, I read the message and was a little surprised.
…This is the first normal e-mail request for advice we’ve gotten. And, uh, my surprise at that kinda makes you wonder what’s up with this club, huh?
“The sports festival…” Yukinoshita breathed a melancholy sigh.
“Ohhh, it’s already that time, huh?” Now that I thought about it, in our day-end homeroom, I’d been put on the red team.
Lately, it seems a lot of sports festivals and athletic days are held in spring or early summer, but at our school, the sports festival is in fall. Once it’s over, the season finally turns to winter. Though for us second-years, the school field trip is waiting right after that.
Either way, for students, the sports festival is a big event, and for those who celebrate their youth, it’s an event they look forward to. For the jocks in particular, this is the time when they can show off their skills to the girls. If I could pull off something cool, I could get a girlfriend, too… is a delusion familiar to more than one or two boys.
But it seemed that many girls—Yukinoshita specifically—were not impressed by that, and her eyebrows came together in annoyance. “…I have never liked the class vs. class relays.”
Ohhh, I remember that. They make you do that in middle school, huh? “Yeah, there’s a pressure that’s hard to describe.” The memory brought back the emotions of the experience, and I agreed immediately.
Yuigahama nodded and added, “I’m not very fast, so it was tough.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, “and you get those guys who actually get mad and start swearing when someone passes his classmate, like Nagayama from soccer club…”
“Who’s that?! Why are you naming people?!” Yuigahama’s head jerked toward me in surprise.
You don’t know Nagayama? He was in my class in middle school. Well, it’d be scary if you did know him. Geez, I hated that guy, but he probably hated me, too.
He wasn’t the only thing I hated, though. Because of the term class vs. class relay, my folder of trauma is packed with gigs and gigs of data.
“And then there’s the girls who hate taking the baton from me. Why do they go out of their way to be like Eugh, no way… in front of me? Is it a tsundere thing?” No matter which way you slice it, I’m forced to assume they say it because they want my attention. Is this that thing where you bully someone because you like them? So what you’re saying is this actually means I’m super-popular. Or not.
When I started smiling at my own misfortune, Yuigahama gave another awkward laugh. “Ta-ha-ha… No, that’s…”
Ngh, that hint of pity in her gaze hurts… Sometimes kindness and consideration can be painful.
“I think he understands, so I’ll make no comment. Just that when a girl is acting as if she hates you, odds favor the possibility that she truly does hate you.”
You know, Miss Yukinoshita—harsh realities can be hard to accept when they’re just thrown in your face. Were you aware? “You did just comment. Look up the meaning of comment. Also, if we’re talking about sports festivals, then you know…”
“He’s got more…” When I tried to continue, Yuigahama smiled a little stiffly.
You fool, of course I have plenty of memories of sports festivals. “I do. I think this is just something boys do, but when you’re doing gymnastic formations, if you’re short one, then you do it with the teacher—when you don’t even have enough to do the fan.”
I had about eighty thousand mental Hachimans in my brain agreeing with me like, Yeah, yeah, but this must not have rung a bell for either of the girls, as they were giving me blank looks. Girls don’t do gymnastics formations, so I guess they don’t get it…
“But anyway,” I continued, “for group exercises, and not just the fan, I generally got partnered with the teacher. And thanks to that, I was constantly getting people staring at me on sports days.”
“I feel sorry for your parents for seeing that…” Yukinoshita rubbed her temple with a sour look.
Thank you for being considerate of my parents, but you don’t need to worry. The sight had actually made my parents burst out laughing, and then they completely forgot about me, occupying themselves with taking pictures of Komachi. This is what it’s like, being a big brother…
I sighed at myself with a self-deprecating phew. About when all this nostalgia started to get me down, though, I heard a short, rhythmic tap, tap. It hadn’t been that forceful, but in the quiet room, it was particularly audible.
We all looked toward the door.
“Come in,” Yukinoshita called out, and a familiar girl came in.
“Pardon meee.” She had a fluffy, pleasant air about her, and with every turn of her head as she looked around the clubroom, her two braids trailed behind. Her braids were secured with hair clips, and the gleam of the sunset on her smooth, pretty forehead made me think of her bright, cheery personality shining through.
Meguri Shiromeguri. She’s a third-year, one year older than me, and the student council president at Soubu High School. Yukinoshita and I knew her from when we were on the Cultural Festival Committee.
When Meguri was done curiously gazing around the clubroom (“Ohhh!”), she gave us all a bright grin. “Um, this is the Service Club, right? I sent you an e-mail earlier asking for help with the sports festival, but I thought it would be best to ask you directly…so here I am,” she said, and our eyes all turned to the computer screen.
Megu Megu.
I get it. So the e-mail Meguri sent must have meant this. The part about the sports festival being her last also fit perfectly, too.
“So the one who sent this e-mail was…” When Yuigahama looked back and forth between the computer and the student council president, Meguri pointed to herself.
“Yep, I think that’s me,” she said, ambling up to us. “I want to make it just as exciting as the cultural festival was. Would it be possible to ask for your help, Yukinoshita, and…um…?” There, Meguri glanced over at me and got stuck, making a difficult Uhhh expression.
In an attempt to be subtle, Yuigahama muttered, “Hikigaya. It’s Hikigaya.”
When Meguri heard that, she clapped her hands. Then she threw a gentle smile at Yuigahama. “Oh, you’re Hikigaya, right. And…” Her bemused expression returned as she glanced at me.
Realizing she’d been misunderstood, Yuigahama hurriedly corrected her. “No! I-I’m Yuigahama! That’s Hikigaya.”
“Ohhh, I see.” Meguri nodded her understanding.
“Yeah… Um, if you call me, er, Hikigaya, or whatever, that’s, uh, embarrassing…” Yuigahama faced away, her voice getting quieter and quieter. You could hardly hear her at all anymore.
Yes, indeed, I’m also very embarrassed just hearing this, and I don’t know at all how to react.
“A name you don’t want to be called? Just like the emperor. As expected from Hikigaya…” Yukinoshita nodded, impressed.
Stop iiiit! No name-related teasing! And stop calling that guy Kondou “Condom”! With me, I just get called stuff like Hikki, but if you sit down and think about it, that’s pretty mean, isn’t it…?
“I’m sorry. I’m not very good at remembering names…,” Meguri said with a despondent, apologetic slouch.
Yukinoshita added kindly (and matter-of-factly), “Don’t worry. It’s just that he’s good at being forgettable.”
“It’s weird for you to say that, though? Not saying you’re wrong, but…,” I said. In fact, when people are calling for me, they most often go like Um or Hey, you, so I can’t even know for sure if they remember my name or not.
“No harm, no foul, then, wouldn’t you say? Plus, you’re good at making yourself go unnoticed, too.” Yukinoshita smiled brightly. I have no idea what she meant by then, and she even added a plus there, too. Still, I couldn’t deny facts, however regrettable they were.
“Th-that’s not true at all!”
But the denial came from an unexpected source as Yuigahama cut in between Yukinoshita and me. “He’s all alone in the classroom, so he actually sticks out like a sore thumb!”
“Was that supposed to be a defense…?” That wasn’t defending me at all. What’s the point of driving me into a corner like this? Are you fishing now?
“Ah-ha!” Meguri suddenly laughed as she watched our exchange. Then she took a step toward me, closing the distance between us. “Hikigaya.”
Hearing my name called from short range made my feet retreat a step. “Y-yes?” I replied.
Meguri nodded. “Hikigaya, huh? Okay, I’ve remembered it now. During the cultural festival, when we were short on people, you did a lot of good work for us, so I’ll be counting on you.”
When she smiled at me so innocently, her inability to remember my name felt like less of a big deal. I mean, it’s normal for people to get my name wrong anyway.
More important, I was touched, if only slightly, that she’d remembered my efforts during the cultural festival.
But it was still also embarrassing.
Though our faces were at close range, it seemed Meguri wasn’t bothered by such things, as her fluffy smile remained unchanged.
So I was the one to turn away. “Y-yeah… Well, I’ll give it a shot…”
And as my gaze shifted, it landed on someone with a bit of a pout.
“Hmurg…”
What are you, a puffer fish? Did a predator show up?
Behind the grumpy Yuigahama, I heard a terribly cold voice. “Shiromeguri, I don’t mind if you leave that be, so tell me more about your request, please.”
It’s gotten pretty chilly lately, huh…? Her tone really brought the seasonal weather inside.
At her remark, Meguri’s eyes lit up with recognition, and she clapped her hands. “Oh yes! What I wanted to talk to all of you about was ideas for exciting events for everyone at the sports festival. Something that’ll really wow the crowd, make their eyes pop!” Meguri stuck up her finger and began to explain.
“Eye-popping events…” In my head, I imagined a youkai that was just an eyeball running around yelling in a shrill voice. My hair just about stuck up to become an antenna.
These vague requests tend to give you silly fantasies like that. If I’m gonna make a comparison, it’s kinda like when you’re at your part-time job and you have nothing to do, and an older employee says, like, Talk about something interesting. But then when you do talk about something, he’ll say, Boring. Never mind, you know? And if you say you don’t have any interesting stories, then he’ll be like, You’re so boring. What do you want me to do? The guys who start those conversations are usually the boring ones.
Well, I don’t think Meguri’s that kind of person, but this discussion was a little lacking in specificity. I didn’t really understand what we were supposed to do.
It seems I wasn’t the only one thinking that, as Yuigahama raised her hand a bit, hesitantly. “What’s that?”
Beside Yuigahama, Yukinoshita gently folded her arms. “Oh yes, what did we do last year…?”
“Oh, now that you mention it, I don’t remember…” I tried digging through my memory, too, but nothing of the kind came up. I have a vague memory of spending the whole time sitting in my chair and zoning out. I think I was in some kind of competition, but I really don’t remember.
The only thing I did remember was how the guys from the sports clubs had been saying stuff to each other like It’s such a drag to have to do a sports festival, even in high school, huh? and For real, man, and then once the competition actually started, they got super into it and had a whole lot of fun. And on the way back, they’d given the girls high fives, too. Meanwhile, I’d just been staring at the girls’ high socks.
When I failed to remember anything about the all-important attention-grabbing event, Yukinoshita offered me a pitying sigh. “They do say people suppress memories that are too painful…”
“Could you not treat old sports festivals like my dark past? I mean, if I could forget about it this easily, then there isn’t any trauma there. Come on. And if you don’t remember, either, then you’re the same.”
“Sometimes forgetting it is how you move on,” she said with a smug look for some reason.
“Hey, why are you acting like that’s some philosophical discovery? You’re not saying anything wise here.”
“Ah, ah-ha-ha… B-but I don’t remember it well, either.” Yuigahama joined in with us, trying to be nice.
But in your case, it’s like—I think you just forget stuff.
Meguri’s shoulders slumped listlessly when she realized all three of us had completely forgotten the big event of the previous year. “So you don’t remember it after all… We had a “cosprace”… We raced in cosplay…”
A cosprace… That does sound familiar…, or so I thought, but was that Comp Ace?
I didn’t remember after all. But I’m sure I observed it at the time, and I’m sure I was scowling at the popular kids chattering, giggling, and squealing over each other’s cosplays. I still feel that way, even now.
Even after having the event explained to them, Yukinoshita and Yuigahama were both tilting their heads like, Huh?
Meguri smiled weakly. “I see,” she muttered, and then she pulled herself together with renewed determination. “It’s so boring every year, huh? That’s why I wanted to do something big this time.” She looked at us, eyes gentle, but also overflowing with spirit.
Yuigahama and Yukinoshita must have been overwhelmed by her enthusiasm, both taking a step back.
“O-okay…”
“I understand. In that case, when do you need our ideas…?” Yukinoshita asked.
Meguri grabbed her hands. “About that, there is a Sports Festival Committee, so wouldn’t you be able to consider it there?”
“What? Uh, I wouldn’t mind, but, um, why did you…? Could you please…let go of my hands…?” Yukinoshita was stunned by the sudden attack of personal contact. Normally, she’s all touchy-feely with Yuigahama, so I’d thought she’d be used to that, but it seemed that was not the case. I guess it’s less that she’s used to touchy-feely behavior and more that she’s just used to Yuigahama.
Despite Yukinoshita’s protests, Meguri made no move to withdraw her hands. In fact, she took another step closer. “The truth is, we still haven’t picked a chair for the Sports Festival Committee… So, Yukinoshita, could you?”
With Meguri’s intent gaze on her, Yukinoshita’s cheeks reddened, and she shrank back. But it seemed she did have just the slightest energy left to resist, as she gently withdrew her hands from Meguri’s. “I decline.”
“Oh, I thought so…” Meguri’s head slumped listlessly in disappointment, but she didn’t push any further, backing down completely.
But then her eyes flashed, and next she turned to Yuigahama. “What about you, Yuigahama?!”
“Huh?!” With the offer suddenly thrust toward her instead, Yuigahama leaped up, then waved her hands no at a super-high speed. “Huh? Huh? I—I can’t!”
“Yeah, huh… I couldn’t just bring this up out of the blue, huh…?” Meguri’s shoulders dropped, and she smiled weakly.
Yuigahama drooped a little, too, pained by her disappointment. “I’m sorry…”
“No, don’t worry about it. I was just thinking I’d be glad if you would take it on for me. Thanks for your concern,” Meguri said, gently stroking Yuigahama’s head. The sudden gesture startled Yuigahama, and she yelped a little. But Meguri ignored that and continued petting her.
But it was a pretty big problem if the committee chair wasn’t decided yet, at this stage. Wouldn’t that cause management difficulties?
It seemed Meguri, of course, also had a sense of the impending crisis. She drew her hand away from Yuigahama’s head and folded her arms with a hmm, leaning all the way over to the side as she closed her eyes. “But we can’t go without a chair, you know… Now that it’s come to this…”
Now that it’s come to this… I considered the matter, too, and that was when an idea struck me. Now that it had come to this, I mean, judging from the way this was going, wouldn’t the baton come around to me? Since Yukinoshita and Yuigahama got asked, then naturally, I’d be next, right…? If she takes my hands or pets my head, I have zero confidence that I can refuse. This is bad, this is bad…
I was trying to come up with a way to avoid this somehow, but before I could, Meguri came to her conclusion. “Now that it’s come to this, I’ve got no choice but to do my best and search for ideas,” she said with a nod-nod.
…H-huh? I’m right here! There’s someone here you haven’t asked yet! Look! Me! Me!
…What about me?
But of course, the call of my heart would not reach her. It seemed Meguri had already resolved the issue of the chair. Ngh…I wanted to have Meguri pet my head… Because, you know, I have a younger sister, but not an older one. So you just start wanting stuff like that, right…?
As I was mulling over the dregs of my desire, scattered in vain, I heard Yukinoshita mutter, “You haven’t decided on a chair…” I looked over to see she had her hand on her chin, considering. It appeared she had her own ideas about this. She jerked up her head abruptly to address Meguri. “Might anyone do that?”
The sudden question made Meguri blink. But she instantly understood what it meant, and she answered, “Huh? Well, we couldn’t have quite anyone. I was thinking it would be good to have someone reliable, someone I could entrust things to.”
That line of reasoning implies I’m not reliable or someone you could entrust things to, though…
Well, they were entrusting the role of chair. So of course it’d be best for it to be someone of character. That being the case, it made sense that she wasn’t addressing me.
But it seemed Yukinoshita’s opinion differed, and she quietly shook her head. “No, I don’t mean as an issue of character. I’m referring to their qualifications, or if there’s a limitation to the organizations they’re affiliated with.”
It seemed they weren’t quite talking about the same thing. After Yukinoshita restated the question, this time, Meguri caught what she intended. “Oh, is that what you mean? Then that’s no problem. Actually, we did solicit for candidates. But there were no volunteers at all…”
“So you were looking for people? I had no idea.” Yuigahama made a sound of casual surprise.
Meguri staggered a little with an uuurk.
Well, she was basically saying to her face that she’d heard zilch about all their efforts… The lack of malice in Yuigahama’s surprise just made it worse.
Swaying like she was about to crumble, Meguri began a postmortem meeting with herself on the matter. “She didn’t know, huh…? Of course… Maybe the problem was our method of notification… We did post bulletins, and we wrote it on the school website and distributed printouts and had the teachers tell people, and I updated my personal blog…”
Huh, I don’t know anything about your blog, though. Is she an idol or something? Is she gonna dig a hole to bury herself in?
“Ah, um, I’m sorry! Er—I…don’t look at that sort of thing at all! I don’t know where the bulletin board is—Oh, but, but I’ll be sure to look at it from now on! S-so…” Yuigahama was trying so hard to smooth things over.
But Meguri gently lifted one hand, stopping her from continuing. With a swipe at her eyes, she smiled. “It’s okay, it’s okay, Yuigahama. The problem was with how we got the word out. We’ll also be using Twitter from now on.”
“Dude, that’s not the issue here.” The remark left my mouth before I could stop it. What a way to speak to your elders! I thought, but I was kind of getting the feeling it was okay to treat her like this.
Meguri didn’t actually seem bothered, either. “Hey, we’re starting to use LINE, too!”
Uh, like I said… I do think that positivity is very nice, but, uh…
“There’s no need for that, Shiromeguri,” Yukinoshita said, slightly exasperated. Then she lightly pressed her temple and breathed a short sigh.
“What do you mean?” Meguri cocked her head.
Yukinoshita replied to her question plainly. “There’s one person suited to the job who I would recommend.”
“Huh? Who, who? Tell me about them!” Meguri was deeply interested and enthusiastic.
For her part, Yukinoshita spoke slowly, as if gathering her thoughts. “Someone has experience in a similar position, is also fairly socially ambitious, and is fixated on jobs with status—and motivated, I would say.”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s good, someone with experience and motivation,” Meguri interjected with enthusiasm, picking up on the parts that sounded good, but I couldn’t share in her blithe excitement.
Someone who fit the description from Yukinoshita’s hints rose to mind. I’m good at trivia. I’m so good that if you asked me how to spell “icup,” I’d answer perfectly and get laughed at. Seriously, what the hell is with that culture?
This excellent brain of mine led me to the answer. And it was not a very good answer.
“Hey, Yukinoshita. Wait… You’re not suggesting…?” I said to her.
She could tell that I’d figured it out, glancing over at me. Surreptitiously, she mouthed, “Correct.”
Her lips are so shiny, I thought for a wasted second, but more importantly, disappointment and resignation just barely won over inside me. Just barely?
Yuigahama and Meguri still didn’t get it. Seeing the exchange between me and Yukinoshita, they looked confused. But once they heard the answer, they’d probably react the same as I did. Just without the shiny lips part.
“Tell me, Yukinoshita,” Meguri insisted.
Yukinoshita turned back to her. “From Class 2-F, the chair of the Cultural Festival Committee, Minami Sagami.”
“What?!” Yuigahama was the one to cry out in surprise. She never saw it coming, I guess.
Meguri was also surprised, but her expression gradually chilled. “Ohhh yeah. I—I see…but I don’t know…”
While Meguri struggled to say anything at all, I decided to question Yukinoshita’s motives in her stead. “What are you playing at, Yukinoshita?”
“It’s just the same as overcoming trauma. When you lose something, the only way you can make up for it is with something of equal or greater value. Am I wrong?” she said, and that made sense to me. Yeah, she’s the type of person who would shove someone who can’t swim into the pool and call it practice.
In other words, she meant that through making Sagami the chair for this sports festival, she’d regain her confidence and possibly improve her reputation with others.
If this went well, we’d be able to fulfill Sagami’s desire for recognition, and her frustration would be no more.
And thanks to a chain reaction, the awkward atmosphere of Class 2-F would be slightly improved, too, since the main cause of said atmosphere was Sagami. Well, I can’t deny my presence had also been making things worse.
“But is it worth going that far? It’s just Class F…”
“It is,” Yukinoshita cut me off sharply. I could sense her strong will in the severe look she turned my way.
Well, if she was that determined, it’d be difficult to convince her otherwise. Difficult and a headache. Besides, it wasn’t like Yukinoshita’s explanation wasn’t convincing. She had a fair point.
But all she’d managed to convince me of was her reason for recommending Sagami—or I would say, why you’d recommend her if Sagami was your main focus. The problem was, what if you considered the role of chair to be your main focus?
And that was the area where it seemed Meguri could not agree. “Hmm, Sagami, huh…?” she muttered with a grim look.
Then Yukinoshita chimed in to reinforce her proposal. “I believe giving second chances is an important part of helping people grow.”
“That’s right, yeah. I think so, too.” In response to Yukinoshita’s opinion, Meguri closed her eyes and gave a big nod. “But it is a real job, so we’ll be in trouble if she doesn’t put her all into it.” Her eyes were saying, We can’t let her do something like last time with the cultural festival. Her attitude was gentle, yet also firm. That was different from the usual fluffy and rather absentminded vibe she usually had. She had the gravity of a student council president.
“…” Though it wasn’t enough to call intimidating, Meguri’s serious look made Yukinoshita go silent.
It was true that, as Meguri said, Sagami had a poor record. Her sabotage and abandonment of responsibility during the cultural festival was not acceptable behavior in a leader.
“I don’t agree, either,” I said.
People don’t change that easily. If they could change based on words of gratitude, kind compassion, or cheap expressions of determination, then the world would be overflowing with transforming superheroes.
Though I can’t say for certain, I doubt Sagami has grown as a person through her failure during the cultural festival. If she had, then she wouldn’t have been so hostile to me, for one thing, and she wouldn’t be forcing others to sympathize with her.
People don’t really change. But if they can, there’s only one way to go about it: to get hurt through bad experiences over and over again until wounds are indelibly carved into your heart—and then it’s just that the impossibility of escaping that pain leads to changed behavior.
Sagami has still not reached that territory. Therefore, we should not leave the position of chair to Sagami.
“I wonder about Sagamin… If things wound up like before…”
Yuigahama’s worries were well-founded. I figured we could expect a similar outcome.
“That won’t happen. I won’t let it happen,” Yukinoshita declared, full of confidence.
But from where I stood, I sensed something dangerous in Yukinoshita’s confidence. “Don’t be stupid. If we end up with another cultural festival, then there’s no point. Are you gonna work until you drop like last time?” I said.
Yukinoshita’s mouth hung open and froze there.
“…What?” I asked.
“Ah, oh, nothing… I was just a little surprised,” she muttered quietly, and then she blushed and cleared her throat with embarrassment. “Your worries are unfounded. The sports festival is a closed event, and the schedule is only one day. That makes it a smaller workload than the cultural festival, so there would be less for me to do. I think it should be manageable enough for Sagami,” Yukinoshita explained eloquently.
Yuigahama and I offered uh-huhs as we listened. But then Yuigahama froze. “But, like, that’s assuming you’ll be handling everything perfectly, Yukinon.”
Before Yuigahama’s glare, Yukinoshita was struggling to find a reply. “Yuigahama…but there is the matter of the request, and the e-mail from Miura…” The sudden introduction of these other topics kind of sounded like she was making excuses.
Yuigahama groaned a low murghhh before sighing in exasperation. “Agh…” Then she jerked her face up and smiled at Yukinoshita. “I’ll help, too. This time, be sure to rely on me, okay?”
“Yuigahama…,” Yukinoshita murmured, obviously relieved. “Thank you…”
“Hey, it’s totally fine.” Yuigahama took a step toward Yukinoshita and came up beside her. She gently took her hand, and they felt each other’s warmth. How beautiful it is to have good friends.
I was completely left out of this, gazing from a distance upon this friendship that you could mistake for something more.
Meguri, the other one watching, sighed. “If you’re going to help, Yukinoshita, then maybe it would be all right…”
She sounded relieved. But it could also be said that trust was what had given rise to the cultural festival fiasco.
“I’m not so sure about that. It’s not like she’s perfect, either, so I don’t think you should overestimate her abilities.” With that casual objection, I gave Meguri a look.
Meguri responded with a smile. “I think it’ll be okay. Yuigahama will be with her, too.”
True. If you have an encouraging motivator right in your face, of course you can worry less. Yuigahama was sure to be with Yukinoshita this time, supporting her through the whole thing, so Yukinoshita wouldn’t make herself sick again. And if Yukinoshita was in top shape, she should be able to move the sports festival along without a hitch.
“…Well, I guess so,” I answered.
Then Meguri leaned in close to my ear and added softly, like she was letting me in on a secret, “Besides, you’ll be with her, too, right?” Her voice tickled my ear. The sensation and sweet scent made me freeze up, and Meguri darted away again. With a gentle smile, she awaited my answer.
“…Well, it is my job.” Unable to look her straight in the eye, I turned my gaze out the window. But I could hear her laughing pleasantly.
“Okay! Then it’s settled!” She clapped twice, and once she’d gathered all eyes on her, she declared in a sonorous voice, “Let’s try asking Sagami about this. Maybe Yukinoshita and I should talk to her?” she suggested.
“Yes, let’s go tomorrow.” Yukinoshita nodded. But Yukinoshita doesn’t have the personality for that…
“I-I’ll go, too!” Yuigahama insisted.
Making up for that deficiency would be, well, Yuigahama’s job, I guess. Yeah, there should be no problem this way.
“Okay, I’ll see you again tomorrow. Thanks!” Meguri said, turning around. But right when she was about to leave the room, she gave a cry (“Ah!”) like she remembered something and whirled back around with a swish of her skirt. “By the way, what team are all of you? In this school, all the classes get divided in half, right? I just wanted to check—I’m on the red team.”
That reminded me that in the request e-mail from Meguri, it had also said she wanted to win, because it was her last year. That had to be why she wanted to know.
What team you were on wasn’t exactly classified information, so I answered first.
“Red,” I said, then glanced over at Yuigahama.
“Red.” Yuigahama looked at Yukinoshita.
“Red.” Yukinoshita looked at Meguri.
The chain of red team declarations was done just like roll call. Apparently satisfied, Meguri clenched an enthusiastic fist. “Same as me. Great! Then let’s all aim for victory and do our best! Whoo!”
We were all unable to keep up with her sudden and bold statement of excitement, exchanging looks with each other. Why is she so into this…?
When we failed to reply, Meguri pumped her fist again. “Let’s do our best! Whoo!”
…Ah! O-oh crap, I know what this is. It’s the same as the king in Uptaten Towers in DQV, or the lady presenter in a sentai stage show. You have to answer here, or you’ll get stuck in a never-ending loop.
It seemed Yuigahama had also felt the same vibe, as she immediately gave me a look.
“Y-yeah…” This really was a little embarrassing, so I raised a hesitant hand like a lucky cat waving in response.
This satisfied Meguri, and she finally left the clubroom.
…I dunno, man. Just, what?
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