6
Unusually, Yui Yuigahama is indignant.
What never gets easier, no matter how much work is put into it?
My life.
It’s so bad, even the famously overworked poet Takuboku Ishikawa would have to admit it. I bet it’s even worse for a pleb like me. My hands paused in their task, without my telling them to. I gave them a nasty glare. That made them stop again as the whole situation became more and more agonizing. What is with this downward spiral?
To solve the mystery of why the hell I was so busy, I looked around. First of all, we were shorthanded.
The executives were being hounded left and right in a chaotic mess, and their helper Haruno had not come that day. Hayama was working with us, having single-handedly undertaken the volunteer-related tasks, but even he could get tired, it seemed. His usual smile was a little strained.
Not so long ago, we’d kept on top of the work, even with a smaller group. The difference this time was that Yukinoshita wasn’t there: Yukinoshita, who would normally come to the conference room earliest and stay the latest. That day, she was nowhere to be seen.
“What’s happened to Yukinoshita today?” Meguri asked.
I had no answer. “Dunno…” And I wasn’t the only one without answers—I doubt anyone on the committee had any, either.
The door to the conference room creaked open. Forgetting to knock was a bad habit of Miss Hiratsuka’s. “Hikigaya.”
“Yes?” I replied.
She walked up to me, her expression very gentle. “About Yukinoshita—she isn’t feeling well today, so she’s taking the day off. She’s contacted the school, but I figured the cultural committee hadn’t been notified.” Evidently, we hadn’t. No one here would have been able to receive a message from her in the first place.
But still, she was sick? I knew she didn’t have much in the way of endurance, but I thought she could take care of her health better than that. Well, she had seemed busy lately, and she’d also made that little slipup the other day. She must have been exhausted.
Is she okay? She lives alone, too, I thought.
Hayama lifted his head, as if the same thought had just hit him as well. “Yukinoshita lives by herself, so someone should go check on her.”
“Oh, really? Well, will one of you go check and see how she’s doing, then? I can handle things here,” Meguri said to the two of us.
“Will you all be okay without the help?” Hayama asked her.
Meguri made a rather complicated expression, but then it changed to her usual bubbly, pleasant smile. “Hmm… Yeah. I think anything I can understand, we should be able to manage.” Her tone indicated she was a little unsure, but her smile was trustworthy.
Then it would probably be best to leave the work to them while we took care of visiting Yukinoshita. It would be much better for the student council president to stay than someone from Records and Miscellaneous or the volunteer manager. Meguri was the only one with an eye on the whole picture. “Thanks,” she said to us, starting to go back to work.
“President!” The door to the conference room banged open, and someone from the student council marched in.
“What’s wrong?!” asked Meguri.
“Actually, there’s been an inquiry about the slogan…”
“Ack! Now?!” Sounded like a major problem had surfaced immediately. Meguri rushed out of the conference room to go handle it. Unable to call after her to ask what had gotten her into such a flurry, we were left behind.
“All right…so what do we do?” Hayama asked me. “I don’t mind going myself.” The confrontational phrasing bothered me.
I… No, even if I did go, it wasn’t like there was anything I could have said to her. If Hayama went to see her, then I would stick around. Conversely, if he didn’t go, then I probably would instead. “Well…shouldn’t you be the one to go? It’d be best for her to get the considerate and useful one,” I said.
Hayama blinked. “…Didn’t expect to hear that from you.”
“You’re doing all this work for us. That’s worth a compliment.”
Hayama smiled wryly and turned back to me. “I see. But if that’s your rationale, then shouldn’t the considerate and useful one stay here?”
That was true. Since we didn’t have enough people, the standard tactic would be to leave behind someone who could handle the situation well. When your party was down a few players, it was best to rely on a high-level hero. “Oh… Well, if you put it that way, I guess so,” I replied, scratching my head roughly.
Hayama looked me straight in the eye. “Just so you know, I don’t think you’re incompetent. You’ve been doing the jobs of the entire miscellaneous section. Nobody can call you useless.”
…Now you’re the one surprising me. I never thought you’d say something like that.
“So what are you going to do?” Hayama asked again.
Hachiman Hikigaya could not beat Hayato Hayama. Anyone would say so. And I think they’d be right, too. I doubt I could beat him in any arena.
But it’s funny. The more talented and kind someone is, the more constrained they are in life. Someone’s always relying on them, they have to live up to those expectations, and before long, the whole dynamic gets normalized. Not only that, guys like him will even reach out a hand to guys out on the fringes, like yours truly.
“…I’ll go,” I said. “Anyone would say you’re the superior one here. Everyone needs you.”
“I don’t mind hearing that…if you actually mean it.” Hayama’s smile held a trace of melancholy. He was a good guy, but his kindness meant he couldn’t prioritize anyone or anything over anything else. Everything was important to him. That suddenly seemed to me like a terribly cruel thing.
“All right…so then, I’m stepping out for a bit,” I said to Miss Hiratsuka.
She smiled. “Okay. Go ahead. I can’t give you another student’s address, though…”
“Oh, that’s fine.” I didn’t know Yukinoshita’s address, but I did know someone who knew. Someone who would probably rush out in a second if I told her about this.
I quickly gathered my things, and when I stood up, my eyes met with Hayama’s. They glinted sharply as they narrowed suddenly. “I’ll let you handle that, then,” he said. “And I’ll tell Haruno, just in case, too.”
“Oh…that’ll be a help. Thanks.” I gave him a brief show of gratitude, adjusted my bag on my shoulder, and left the conference room.
As I walked to the front door, I pulled out my phone and made a call. One ring, two rings, three rings… After a full seven rings, right when I was about to hang up, she answered. “Wh-what is it? This is so random…”
“Did you know that Yukinoshita didn’t come to school today?” I asked.
“…Huh? I…didn’t know.”
“I heard she’s sick.”
I could hear Yuigahama gulping on the other end. It’s not like a little illness is anything serious. But considering how busy Yukinoshita had been lately, plus the fact that she lived on her own, Yuigahama had to be uneasy.
Yuigahama took a determined little breath. “I’m gonna go check up on her real quick now.”
I’d figured she’d say that. “I’m going, too. Wanna meet in front of the school gates?”
“Yeah.”
We ended the brief call, and I stuffed my cell phone into my pocket.
It was still bright outside, but the sun was beginning to sink. We’d probably reach Yukinoshita’s place at just about sunset.
Neither I nor Yuigahama talked much on the way.
The moment she’d first seen me, she’d launched into question after question about Yukinoshita, but I hadn’t had many answers for her.
Yukinoshita lived in an apartment tower that was known in the area for being very fancy, and with that classy status came high security. You couldn’t get in so easily.
We rang Yukinoshita’s room from the entrance. Yuigahama pushed the buzzer. She had already called and texted Yukinoshita beforehand, but she had gotten no response. I’d wondered if we wouldn’t even manage to get in touch with her in person. But Yuigahama rang the bell two, three times anyway.
Not coming out, huh…? “Pretending she’s not home?” I suggested.
“That would be fine, then, but if she’s actually so sick that she can’t answer the bell…” The idea seemed a little extreme to me, but I couldn’t bring myself to laugh her off.
Yuigahama paused, then rang the bell one more time.
Then static crackled through the speaker. “…Hello?” a voice responded, vanishingly quiet.
Yuigahama practically jumped on the sound as she replied, “Yukinon?! This is Yui. Are you okay?”
“…Yes, I’m all right, so.”
So. So what? Did she mean to say, So leave? “Just open the door,” I said.
“…Why are you here?” She must have assumed Yuigahama had come alone. She seemed a bit startled to hear my voice out of the blue.
“I came to talk.”
“…Could you wait for just ten minutes?”
“Fine,” I replied.
As requested, we waited for ten minutes, on the sofa by the entrance. I guess nice apartment buildings have sofas at the entrance…
Yuigahama was glaring at her cell phone the entire time. Her fingers didn’t even so much as twitch. She must have been just staring at the clock, frozen.
I was zoning out when Yuigahama stood up from beside me and buzzed Yukinoshita again.
“Yes…”
“It’s been ten minutes.”
“…Come in,” Yukinoshita told us, and the automatic door opened.
Yuigahama marched in with sure footsteps. I followed after her, and when we reached the elevator, Yuigahama pushed the fifteenth-floor button. The elevator rose faster than I’d imagined it would. The floor numbers on the display flashed by, and before long, it said 15.
Once we were off the elevator, Yuigahama and I walked down to one of the many doors along the hall, an apartment with no nameplate. Yuigahama clenched her fists for a moment to steady herself, then reached out a finger, ready to push the doorbell.
I don’t know if it was just high quality or what, but it didn’t make a mechanical bell sound. It sounded kind of like a fine musical instrument. Yuigahama rang the bell once and then waited for a while. The walls here seemed to be nice and soundproof, as we couldn’t hear anything from within. But after waiting for a few seconds, there was a sudden hard rattling sound of the locks being undone, and it was a few more seconds before all the multiple locks were open.
We waited in front of the door until it opened smoothly and soundlessly. Yukinoshita poked only her face out of the crack. “Come in.”
Entering her apartment, there was a faint waft of soap smell.
Yukinoshita seemed different from usual. She wore a finely textured knit sweater a little big for her thin stature. Her hands were entirely lost in the sleeves, and her collarbone was peeking out of the neck. Her black hair was tied into a ponytail that hung over her chest to hide the deep neckline. Her long skirt went down to her feet.
From the entrance, I could see a number of doors—three of them clearly led to bedrooms. Aside from those, there were doors on the side of the hallway that most likely led to the bath and toilet. Down at the end, the living-dining room was indirectly illuminated. I’d only heard of apartments this big in rumors.
Yukinoshita was living alone in this enormous apartment.
She guided us down the hallway and through to the living room, where I could see a balcony. Beyond the window was a completely dark sky and the nightscape of the new downtown core. The afterglow of the western sky seemed terribly forlorn.
On top of a small glass table was a closed laptop, and beside it were documents in file folders. Yukinoshita must have been working that night, too.
She must not usually have visitors, judging from the Spartan living room. It was minimally furnished like a business hotel, with functional and simple furniture. The only source of warmth to it was the upholstered, cream-colored sofa.
In front of the sofa was a tiny chest. It was a little surprising to see a big TV in the room, too, but the shelf underneath it was full of Destiny movies like Ginnie the Grue. She didn’t buy that sweet TV just for those, did she…?
“Take a seat over there.” Yukinoshita offered us the two-seater couch, and Yuigahama and I obediently sat down.
I wondered what Yukinoshita would do, but she just leaned against the wall.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Yuigahama said, but Yukinoshita quietly shook her head.
“So what was it you wanted to talk about?” Yukinoshita was turned our way, but her gaze was fixed on a point below our faces. The normally overwhelming light in her eyes was muted, calm like the surface of a lake.
When I failed to reply to the question, Yuigahama searched for a response instead. “Uh, um… We heard you were missing school today, so we were wondering if you were okay.”
“I’m fine. This is too much fuss over one day off. And I did call in.”
“You live on your own,” I replied. “People are going to worry about you.”
“Besides, aren’t you really tired? You’re still pale,” added Yuigahama.
Yukinoshita quietly lowered her head, as if to hide her complexion. “I was a little tired, but that was all. It’s not a problem.”
“…Isn’t that the problem here?” said Yuigahama.
Yukinoshita fell silent. Oh, that had hit her where it hurt. If everything was hunky-dory, she wouldn’t have been away from school in the first place.
Yukinoshita’s gloom made her seem especially frail.
“You don’t have to manage this stuff all alone, Yukinon. There were other people there.”
“I understand that. That’s why I made sure to divide the work up properly to reduce the burden—”
“But it’s not reduced!” Yuigahama cut her off. Yuigahama was quiet and calm, but her voice still betrayed her fervent anxiety. The words hung in the air even after the sound had faded. “I’m kinda mad about this, you know.”
Yukinoshita’s shoulders twitched in response. I understood Yuigahama’s anger, too. Yukinoshita’s refusal to accept help and determination to handle everything herself had resulted in her exhaustion.
I breathed a small sigh, and Yuigahama’s gaze jumped over to me. “I’m mad at you, too, Hikki. I said to help her out if she was in trouble…”
So that was why she was silent the whole way there. Well, I had no excuse for that. I’d been quite admittedly useless. My shoulders sank apologetically.
“…I never expected anything from him beyond his role with Records and Miscellaneous,” said Yukinoshita. “He’s fulfilled that role just fine, and that’s enough.”
“But—”
“It’s all right. We still have time, and I’ve been getting work done at home as well, so we won’t get significantly behind. You don’t need to worry about anything, Yuigahama.”
“That’s not right!”
“Oh…isn’t it?” Yukinoshita’s eyes were still riveted to the flooring. “…What do you think?” It took me a little while to realize her question was for me. The wall Yukinoshita leaned against led to the kitchen, and with the lights off, I couldn’t read her expression.
I should tell her that the way she’s going about this is wrong.
I couldn’t make a moral argument like Hayama. I couldn’t say the things he does.
And this wasn’t out of kindness, like Yuigahama. I don’t have any of that stuff.
But I know when she’s screwing up.
“Generally speaking, talking about leaning on someone, how everyone’ll help and support each other—that’s the right thing to do. That’s the standard answer.”
“Oh…” Her reply was dry and disinterested. But her arms fell limply from their folded position.
“But that’s just an ideal. That’s not what makes the world go round. Someone always draws the short straw, and some people get stuck with the job. Someone’s always going to pick up the slack. That’s reality. So I’m not into saying you should rely on others and cooperate with everyone or anything.”
I could hear Yukinoshita gently exhaling. I couldn’t tell if it was like a sigh or not.
“But you’re going about this the wrong way,” I said.
“…Then…do you know the right way?” Her voice was shaking.
“No. But the way you’ve been doing it is wrong.”
“…”
Thus far, Yukinoshita had always had a consistent style. When someone asked her for help, she wouldn’t assist them thoughtlessly. Though she would lend a hand, in the end, she would always leave things up to the person in question.
But this time, it was different. Yukinoshita was handling everything from A to Z, and most likely, as she’d just said, she would somehow muddle through. This was bound to end up a fairly legitimate cultural festival—even if it wouldn’t necessarily leave everyone happy.
But that wasn’t the ideal Yukinoshita had always touted.
Yukinoshita didn’t reply.
Silence fell.
“…”
“…”
The room was cold. The thermometer was probably reading a temperature much higher than what we were feeling.
Choo! Yuigahama sneezed. The way she sniffled almost sounded like she was crying.
Yukinoshita must have noticed the rising chill in the room, as she softly stood up from the wall. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even get you tea…”
“Th-that’s fine!” Yuigahama stuttered. “You don’t need to do that… I—I can handle it.”
“Don’t worry yourself over my health. I feel much better after resting a day.”
“About your health, huh?” I muttered. Her throwaway remark stuck with me.
Yuigahama opened her mouth with an “Um…” as if she was struggling to say something. But even after a pause for breath, she said nothing. Eventually, she slowly began talking. “Listen… I’ve done…a little thinking. Yukinon, you should rely on me and Hikki. Not ‘someone’ or ‘everyone’… Just let us help, okay? I, um… It’s not like I can really do anything. But…Hikki—”
“…Are you fine with black tea?” Yukinoshita turned away and disappeared into the kitchen without listening to the rest of what Yuigahama had to say. Yuigahama’s voice no longer reached into the gloom.
They were constantly talking past each other. This lofty high-rise was the Tower of Babel, and neither of them could reach the other with words.
Yukinoshita brought in a set of cups and a pot of black tea. No conversation accompanied our teatime.
Holding her cup in both hands, Yuigahama blew on her drink to cool it. Still standing, Yukinoshita cradled hers as she gazed outside. Without a word, I put mine to my lips, and it was soon gone.
There was nothing more to talk about.
I put my cup down and stood up. “I’ll get going, then.”
“Huh? Th-then I’ll go, too…” Yuigahama stood up after me and headed for the door. Yukinoshita didn’t stop her.
But still, Yukinoshita did see us off, wobbling a little as she came to the front door. She gently touched Yuigahama’s neck as she was putting on her shoes. “Yuigahama.”
“Y-yes?!” The sudden touch on her neck made Yuigahama yelp in surprise. She was about to turn around when Yukinoshita gently held her in check. “Um…it’s a little difficult to…right away. But I’m sure eventually, I’ll come to rely on you. So…thank you…”
“Yukinon…”
The smile Yukinoshita gave her was fragile; still, there was a faint blush in her cheeks. “But I want to think a little longer…”
“Yeah…” Without looking back, Yuigahama gently rested her own hand on top of the hand on her neck.
“I’ll leave this to you, Yuigahama,” I said.
“Huh? Wait—”
I cut her off, quietly closing the door. Sorry, but the rest is up to you.
Yuigahama did what had to be done in the way that only she could. But it wouldn’t resolve this.
I’d handle that problem.
It’s not true that time solves everything. It just shoves it all away into distant oblivion, erasing any significance or meaning it might have had, bleaching away the problem itself.
It’s also a lie that the world changes when you do. It’s bunk. The world is always eroding you, pigeonholing you and sanding down all the parts that stick out. It’s just that eventually, you stop thinking about it. The world and your environment force you into believing it. You’re brainwashed. Neither emotional arguments, nor the belief that “you can just do it if you try!” nor idealism will change the world, your environment, or the group.
I’ll show you what changing the world really is.
There was a quibble over the cultural festival slogan. I did seem to recall hearing something about this.
Fun! So fun! Listening to the sound of the sea breeze at the Soubu High School cultural festival~!
…That was no good. I mean, it was basically the Juumangoku Manjuu slogan, and that’s Saitama. It was a little hard to accept for a Chiba event.
Well, leaving aside any prefectural disparities, we ended up discussing whether we should appropriate someone else’s slogan wholesale, and ultimately, we came to the decision that it wasn’t a good idea. We then hastily convened a meeting to resolve this issue.
Haruno and Hayama, who had lately been coming in to observe often, were also in attendance. This in and of itself was the most significant piece of evidence that the cultural committee was falling apart.
The executives (mainly the student council and Yukinoshita) were entirely exhausted. Since they’d barely been managing the declining attendance so far, this new crisis was like hitting them while they were down. It could even be the finishing blow.
At this rate, it was doubtful the meeting would ever start. Murmurs and chatter were rippling across the whole conference room, and Sagami, the one who should have been in charge, was hanging out in front of the whiteboard and chatting with the friend she’d designated as clerk.
Unable to just stand by and watch, Meguri got her attention. “Sagami, Yukinoshita. Everyone is here,” she said.
Sagami cut off her chat and looked toward Yukinoshita. All eyes gathered on the vice-chair. But her eyes were glazed over, staring at the record of proceedings.
“Yukinoshita?” Sagami said to her, and Yukinoshita’s head jerked up.
“Huh?” She paused for the briefest moment, but then immediately grasped the situation. “Now then, let’s begin the meeting. Just as President Shiromeguri has informed you, on the agenda for today is the cultural festival slogan.” Once she’d pulled herself together, Yukinoshita began to direct the meeting in an orderly fashion.
First, she solicited ideas, but the group’s passivity made that difficult. Nobody was motivated. To them, even a serious meeting was just another topic for casual conversation later.
Hayama, sitting beside me, couldn’t take it anymore and raised his hand. “I’m sure it’s difficult for us to present a slogan to the group so suddenly. Why don’t we have people write their ideas down? Then we can have everyone explain their suggestions afterward.”
“All right… Then we’ll take a little time for that,” said Yukinoshita.
Blank sheets were handed out. Though everyone had gotten one, only a handful of people were actually writing on them. Most of the room was just giggling and gleefully showing each other jokes. What’s more, when the time came to submit, they didn’t hand those ideas in.
Even in a group of slackers, there was always a certain number of diligent types—those who would actually do the work but didn’t want to make a show of it. If you just removed the barrier created by presenting to an audience, some people would actually participate. The support of such people had gotten us this far, and it seemed those people would be carrying us again.
Once the papers had been collected, the slogans on them were copied onto the whiteboard.
Friendship / Effort / Victory
Yeah, they were all basically along those lines. The really random one was Hakkou Ichiu. Eugh, I think I have an idea of who would write this…
One other slogan, written in English, caught everyone’s attention: ONE FOR ALL.
When that one appeared on the board, Hayama made a quiet ohhh. “I kinda like that sort of thing.” Apparently, that one was to his taste.
Yeah, I get the feeling you’d be into that. I mean, it was English. I replied with a snort that said, Oh, really?
At that, Hayama shrugged. “One person working for everyone’s sake. I like that idea a lot.”
“Oh, is that all? That’s simple stuff.”
“Huh?”
Ha! It seems that even the great Hayama hasn’t quite grasped the concept here. So be it, good sir; then I shall humbly explain this for thee.
“Injure one person and shun them. One for all. Happens all the time.”
—Like what you guys are doing, right this minute.
“Hikigaya…hey…” Hayama reacted like he’d been struck, then gradually bristled. He turned his whole body toward me, squaring off. Anyone who saw us must have figured we were glaring at each other.
Instantly, the chatter around us stopped.
We’d been talking pretty quietly, so maybe that was why the others were only whispering about us. The silent standoff between me and Hayama ended after only a few seconds—because I looked away first. Oh, it’s not like I was scared. It was because everyone’s attention had shifted up to the front of the room.
Sagami consulted with her clerk friend and then stood up. “Right then, last one. We’re suggesting Bonds: helping one another in our cultural festival.” Sagami announced the slogan they’d come up with and began writing it on the board.
“Eugh…” The noise slipped out of me as soon as the suggestion left her mouth. What’s it like inside her head? Is it a farm with fields of flowers? Is she making caramel sweets in there?
My reaction set off a wave of murmurs. The scornful timbre of the commotion rubbed Sagami the wrong way. And since I had both caused this commotion and occupied a weak social position, it was no surprise that the brunt of her ire would fall on me.
“…What? Something weird about that?” Sagami was managing to keep up appearances with a smile, but her cheeks were twitching. She still looked pretty upset.
“Oh, it’s nothing, really…,” I began, and then I left it there, indicating I actually did have a complaint. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this response would piss her off the most. Take it from me, someone who has done it unconsciously and lost friends tons of times.
What I’d done was communicate something you can’t say with words. I know how to get my intentions across when words aren’t enough—because I barely ever actually use them. Like when I pretend to sleep during breaks, or adopt a reluctant expression when I’m asked to do something, or sigh when I’m working. I’ve always expressed myself extralinguistically.
I know how to communicate this stuff. Well…I’m only good at using the skill for nefarious purposes, though.
“Don’t you have something to say?” Sagami demanded.
“Oh, no. Not really.”
She gave me a mildly displeased glare and said, “Hmph. All right. If you don’t like it, you make a suggestion.”
So then I was like: “How about People: Take a good look, and you’ll find some of them are enjoying this cultural festival or something?”
Boom!
…I thought maybe the world had stopped.
Nobody said anything. Sagami, Meguri, and Hayama were all overcome with surprise. I guess this was what it meant to be truly dumbfounded.
The committee went dead silent. Even Yukinoshita’s mouth was hanging open.
Then laughter broke the silence. “Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! We’ve got an idiot here! Right over there! That’s just great! Hee, ee-hee! Ahhh, I can’t, my stomach hurts!” Haruno roared with laughter, while Miss Hiratsuka shot me a sour look. I was scared. Double scared.
Miss Hiratsuka jabbed Haruno with her elbow. “…Haruno, you’re laughing too hard.”
“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha, ha… Hmm, ahem.” Haruno must have noticed the icy atmosphere as she cleared her throat quietly and smothered her laughter. “Oh, I do like that one. Anything funny sounds good to me.”
“Hikigaya…explain yourself.” Half-exasperated, Miss Hiratsuka demanded an explanation from me.
“Well, they say the character for ‘person’ is two people leaning on each other,” I said, “but one side is leaning harder than the other, right? I think the idea behind ‘people’ is accepting that someone is going to be the sacrifice. So I think the idea might be appropriate for this cultural festival and this committee.”
“What do you mean by sacrifice, exactly?” The exasperation had disappeared from Miss Hiratsuka’s expression.
“Like me? I’m totally getting the short end of the stick here. I’ve got tons of work, or rather, other people are pushing their work onto me. Wait, is this the ‘cooperation’ the committee chair was referring to? I haven’t benefited from any of that, so I wouldn’t really know.”
All eyes gathered on Sagami.
She was trembling like a leaf. Everyone looked at the person next to them.
A buzz of whispers ran around the room, from one neighbor to the next. They washed up close to me and then back to the center of the room, like the tide rolling in and receding. And there, they ended.
Sitting in the center of the room were the executives of the Cultural Festival Committee and its vice-chair: Yukino Yukinoshita. Not a single person said a word. The expectant gazes gathered on Yukinoshita, the ice queen who had thus far mercilessly and unapologetically persisted in her autocratic rule. How would she punish this prank?
The meeting agenda in Yukinoshita’s hands rustled as she lifted it up to hide her face. Her shoulders were trembling. Her face descended to the table, and her hunched back shook.
All I could do was watch the strange reaction. The painful silence went on for some time.
After a while, Yukinoshita gave a short puff of a sigh and lifted her head. “Hikigaya.” She looked me straight in the eye. I got the feeling it had been a long time since I’d heard my name in her voice or seen her clear, blue-tinged eyes.
Her cheeks were faintly flushed.
Her mouth was split in a broad smile.
Her pink, full lips moved gently.
And then, quite cheerfully, with a smile like a warm flower in full bloom, she told me, “Your suggestion is declined.” Her serious expression returned, and then she gently straightened up and cleared her throat. “Sagami, let’s end it here for today. I doubt we’ll get any decent suggestions anyway.”
“Huh? But…”
“It would be foolish to waste the whole day over this. Everyone, consider it on your own time, and we’ll make the decision tomorrow. And regarding our upcoming tasks, if all of us participate every day, then we’ll be able to regain lost ground,” Yukinoshita said. She surveyed the conference room quietly, but nobody would dare argue with her now. “No objections?” She was so intense, complaining was out of the question. In just one moment, they’d all been compelled into attending starting the next day.
Even Sagami was no exception. “All…right, then. Then we’ll be counting on you again tomorrow. Thank you for your hard work.” After that dismissal, everyone left their seats on their own time in groups of threes and fours.
Hayama stood without looking at me and marched straight out of the conference room. As everyone shuffled after him, their piercing looks stung. Some people were even blatantly whispering as they went. “What’s with him?”
Yeah, what’s with that guy? Oh. They mean me.
Once most of the cultural committee had left, the only ones remaining were the executives, who always stayed behind. The atmosphere was relaxed, and just one person in the room had a long face. It was Meguri.
She quietly stood from her seat. When she came up to me, she didn’t have her usual pleasant, reassuring smile on her face.
“It’s too bad… I thought you were more serious than that…”
“…”
She sounded sad, but I had nothing to say in reply.
I mean, I didn’t want to work. If people got these expectations that I would give it my all and do everything right, then they were bound to catch me tripping soon enough, and in the end, I’d just let them down. I washed away my regret with a sigh.
With a hup of effort, I stood up.
Right when I was about to leave the conference room, I found Yukinoshita in front of the door. “You’re all right with this?” she asked.
“With what?” I asked back at her, but she didn’t reply.
“I think it would be best if you corrected the misunderstanding.”
“That’s not gonna happen. Everyone’s already got their answers, so the issue’s over and done. There’s nothing more to resolve.” Whether it was right or wrong, it was the final answer. You can’t take back mistakes. Once a brand has been seared into you, it can’t be erased.
Yukinoshita narrowed her eyes in a brief glare. “…You always make excuses when it doesn’t matter, but when it’s important, you don’t. I think that’s a little unfair. Then no one else can make excuses, either.”
“There’s no point. The more important something is, the more selfish people are with their decisions.”
“…Yes, maybe that’s true. Excuses are meaningless,” Yukinoshita mused.
Once you’ve come up with an answer, there’s no reversing it. What’s done is done. A broken egg can’t be unbroken. Even with all the king’s horses and all the king’s men, you can’t put it back together again. No matter what you say, you can’t scrub out a bad impression.
Even though the reverse is so simple. A single word from someone can ruin your perception of them, and a single act from you can create a bad impression.
That’s why excuses are meaningless. Even the excuse will damage your image.
Yukinoshita was standing there, her arms wrapped around herself. But she didn’t lean on the wall. Just like always, she straightened her posture and slowly raised her head.
“So then…there’s nothing for it but to ask the question again.”
An almost combative force of will was shining powerfully in her eyes, beautiful like blazing stars.
I got the feeling they were telling me something: I won’t make excuses. So watch me. Then that determination melted into something just a bit warmer. “Anyway, what was that just now?” she asked.
“What?”
“That hopeless slogan. It was entirely tasteless.”
“It was better than yours. Come on, are you a thesaurus?” I said.
Yukinoshita breathed a long, deliberate-sounding sigh. “You never change… It’s exasperating.”
“People don’t really change.”
“And you were especially weird to begin with.”
“Hey, that was unnecessary.”
Yukinoshita chuckled. “When I look at you, forcing you to change starts to seem foolish.” Before she even finished her remark, she was spinning away from me. She trotted over to grab her bag from the table and gently pointed outside. Apparently, that was the signal to leave.
The two of us left the conference room, and she locked up. “All right, I’m going to go return this key.”
“Yeah, see you.”
“Yes, good-bye.”
Though we’d said our farewells, Yukinoshita put her hand to her chin in thought and hesitated just slightly. Then she added, “…See you tomorrow.” Her hand moved down in front of her chest, hovering uncertainly, and gave a little half-open wave.
“…See you tomorrow.”
We both turned away from each other and began home. After a few steps, I got the urge to look back at her, but I didn’t get the sense that she would stop. So I didn’t have to, either.
Would I be able to keep myself from looking back?
Would I be able to ask that question one more time?
There are no take-backs in life. When you get the wrong answer, you’re bound to be stuck with it. If you’re going to turn it around, you have to come up with a new answer.
So I’d ask the question one more time.
I would learn the right answers.
At the committee meeting the next day, we decided on a slogan. Revitalized, the committee went from heated discussion to heated discussion, and after a long period of debate, we somehow managed to come together on a single idea. The slogan for that year’s cultural festival would be this:
Chiba’s famous for dancing and festivals! So if you’re an idiot like me, then you’ve got to dance! Sing a song!
Was that really the best idea?
I did feel a little uneasy about it, but this was the conclusion we’d agreed on. Well, I didn’t hate it, though. “Chiba Ondo” is a famous song after all.
The meeting had yet to cool down, and the committee was still in discussion. Seizing the chance to channel that motivation into work, Yukinoshita whispered quietly into Sagami’s ear. “Sagami, we should focus on slogan replacement next.”
“Oh yeah… Then please replace all instances of the old slogan with the new one,” Sagami instructed. The committee resumed action, more or less under her direction.
Deciding on a slogan must have served to unify the group, as everyone was brimming with enthusiasm.
“You! Remake the posters!” howled Publicity and Advertisement.
“Hold on a minute! We haven’t come up with a budget estimate yet!” the accounting section snarled back at them.
“You moron! Fiddle with your abaci later! My time is now!”
“More importantly, if you’re replacing the posters, be sure to bring back the thumbtacks! We’re counting those, too!” Man, even Equipment Management started butting in. Every section was actively exchanging opinions. It didn’t even seem like the same committee anymore.
As for me, people were saying all sorts of nasty stuff behind my back. I was being ignored, avoided, and ostracized. But it wasn’t bullying. There’s no bullying at our school.
Even when they gave me work to do, they didn’t talk to me. They just stacked it in front of me silently. Even in this situation, they were still trying to make me work. Managers sure are impressive.
I was buckling down to write up a record of the day’s meeting in Word when a good-humored voice descended upon me from on high. “Yo, yo! Working hard, I hope?” Haruno had come down to the conference room during a break in her practice. She probably had nothing else to do now that the committee members were actually doing their jobs, as she took the time to come all the way over and pat me on the head.
“…Just look at me,” I replied.
She popped in from behind to sneak a peek at my PC. Um, that’s a little close. What is that, perfume? It smells kinda nice, though, so please stop…
“Oh…looks like you’re not really working hard.”
Why? I’ve got my nose to the grindstone here. I shot her a rotten glare.
Haruno feigned shock. “Oh my, so grumpy! But I mean, your accomplishments aren’t in the meeting records, are they?”
“…” I fell silent, and Haruno gave me a broad smirk.
“Pop quiz, Hikigaya. Who is it that most unifies a group?”
“A ruthless mentor?”
“Oh, you! But I know you really do know the right answer. Although I kinda like yours, too.” She still smiled, but her expression cooled. “The correct answer…is the presence of a clear enemy.” I understood the implication of that chilly smile.
Long ago, someone once said, “The greatest leader to bring together the masses is the enemy.” Well, everyone’s not going to change all at once just because they have someone to hate. But once you get four or five together, they multiply like bunnies. The greater numbers you have, the faster the idea gains traction.
They say humans are empathetic by nature. It’s like how when you see someone yawning, you catch the yawn, too. Enthusiasm, fanaticism, and hatred are especially contagious. It’s the foundation of solicitations for pyramid schemes or religion. Everyone wants to be a part of something. You just have to propagate the shared perception that it’s cool to work your ass off, just like any dogma or sermon.
Social pressure is a numbers game.
Popularity is a numbers game.
War is a numbers game.
If you can create a mood that herds those numbers onto the bandwagon, you’ve basically won. These days, it’s fads that make the world go round. Victory or defeat is not determined by the charismatic dictator but by the absolute majority—or the promise that will win that majority.
So the rest is easy.
If you’ve got your absolute loser hikitanikun@not-trying, then public opinion will naturally trend in the opposite direction. The people working hard are the cool ones. Hikitani’s the one slacking off. As long as you’ve got those labels, everyone will buckle down, even if that’s not what they want.
Haruno chuckled and looked down at me. “Well, their enemy is a bit of a small fry, though.”
Leave me alone.
“But they’re showing some excitement for the festival now.”
“That’s just making more work for me, though.” The unspoken meaning was So I’d rather you not interfere, but she playfully ignored my drift.
“That’s fine. A villain like you actually working will make them want to challenge you. Besides, you’ll never grow without a proper enemy. Conflict just stimulates growth!” Haruno closed her eyes and swung her finger around as she began her commentary. Eugh. It was mildly obnoxious.
But halfway through her playful gesture, her eyes opened and her gaze slid toward Yukinoshita.
A groundless, ridiculous idea occurred to me at that. “Um, so does that mean…?”
Her soft fingertip kept the words from passing my lips. “I hate perceptive kids, you know?”
If the fastest way for a person to grow was for them to have an enemy… Then maybe Haruno is acting like this so she can stay her enemy, I thought, although I had no proof at all of that.
Her finger still gently pressed to my lips, Haruno smiled. “Just kidding.” Her smile was perfect and flawless. For a moment there, I almost fell for it.
I was frozen speechless when behind me someone snapped, “Miscellaneous, stay on task.” Thump, thump, thump, and now there were stacks of documents in front of me. When I raised my head, I saw Yukinoshita and an icy glare. “Dispose of these. They’re all related to the slogan revision. And the meeting records…you’re working on now, I see…” Yukinoshita brought a hand to her mouth and raised her head. “Then…send an e-mail notifying all parties about the slogan change.”
“Hey, hold on, you clearly just came up with that.” She totally just said, “Then…” What else could that mean? Was she about to say “thenceforth” instead?
“I do sometimes get spur-of-the-moment ideas. The ability to make organic connections is the foundation of intelligence after all. Oh, and while you’re at it, integrate the plan application documents and upload them to the server.”
Hey, that didn’t really make sense. What a crappy excuse. And wait, she just tossed more on my pile, didn’t she? Doesn’t “while you’re at it” indicate the new task is related to what you’re already doing? Am I crazy?
I shot her a dubious look, but her glare won. “Anyway, please do that by the end of the day.”
“There’s no way…”
Dealing with Yukinoshita now made me suspect that my previous work environment point had been on the mild side. In fact, if this were a part-time job, this would be about the time I’d flake out. I’d turn off my cell phone and tell my mom we could afford to leave the landline unplugged for a while.
But it was school, so I couldn’t quit…
As I was busy despairing, Haruno raised a hand and waved broadly for her sister’s attention. “Should I work on that, too?”
“You can leave and get out of our way.”
The point-blank barb made Haruno’s eyes water. “Ouch! That’s so mean, Yukino-chan! …Well, I have the time, so I’ll do it anyway. Give me half, Hikigaya.” Haruno reached out for a stack of paper.
Yukinoshita put her hand to her temple and breathed a deep sigh. “…Agh. I’m going to review the budget, so if you absolutely must do something, then make that your task.”
“Hmm? Heh-heh… Okay! ” Just for an instant, Haruno smiled an ominous smile, but she immediately turned on the energy again, prodding Yukinoshita’s back. They must have been going to start up the budget meeting.
Haruno was flitting from task to task, too. Doubtless, she was busy with all sorts of things, but she would show up fairly frequently, and I suspected it was for more than practice with her group. I highly doubted she had that much free time. Though I didn’t even have to wonder about her ulterior motive. Rather, it was more constructive to think about tackling the work in front of me.
Heh-heh. They’re called corporate slaves because they don’t disobey…
With every day closer to the cultural festival, Soubu High school was heating up despite the falling temperature. Class 2-F was abuzz straight from morning. The festival was tomorrow, and we’d spent the whole day preparing.
We’d put the desks together in rows to make a stage. Under the direction of the class rep, Oda or Tahara or somebody put together the plywood-and-cardboard set. Then the trio of Tobe, Yamato, and Ooka the Virgin heaved and hoed and hauled in an airplane set piece constructed with a hell of a lot of heart and soul.
Headphones on, Kawasaki poked the costumes here and there to adjust them, while Miura and Yuigahama decorated with red artificial flowers, chatting all the while. As they started running low, the girls began making more. You know what I’m talking about—the ones you make by folding up five sheets of tissue paper in layers, then tying them off with a rubber band and peeling out the petals one by one. Those things. They always have them at cultural festivals.
Totsuka and Hayama were practicing their lines together.
As for me, I had nothing in particular to do, so I was sitting at the corner of the stage in an empty daze.
“Tonight…you can’t come,” said the delicate Prince.
The Narrator encouraged him, revealing his true emotions. “We’ll always be together.”
Even though I knew it was just a play, my teeth were grating and grinding… Damn it, if I’d known I’d feel like this, I would’ve starred in that play. Ngh, I couldn’t stand to look straight at them…
I tore my eyes away and found Ebina, the super-producer. The smile on her face was frighteningly greasy. “Get on out there, you!”
Are you from a certain Somebody & Associates? Please don’t create an Ebina & Associates… “Uh, I have the festival committee, so…,” I replied.
Ebina bopped me on the shoulder with a rolled-up script. “Oh, that’s too bad. I think you as the Narrator and Hayato as the Prince would’ve made a good ship, though. Watching their practice just now from the wings has stoked your flames of jealousy… Ah! Are you going to swoop in and steal him away?! Hnghhlerk!” Blood shot out of her nose then in a disgusting arc.
You’re scaring me, seriously.
“Aw, she’s started up again. Come on, Ebina, blow. Blow your nose.” Miura noticed the outburst and came over with some of the tissue paper for the fake flowers, holding it up to Ebina’s face. I’ve heard you shouldn’t do that when you have a nosebleed, though.
I observed the class for a while, then stood up and left.
All the classrooms along my way were filled with activity.
It would no doubt be less than comfortable for a loner. If the school day were over, nobody would have noticed if I slipped away—or at least they would have pretended so. But since we’d started up first thing in the morning, I wouldn’t be able to just vanish.
I could either inconspicuously wait for instructions or just stare off into space. Usually, I would have done exactly that, but this year, I was on the Cultural Festival Committee.
I descended the staircase, turned the hallway, and continued down the already familiar route.
The classrooms weren’t the only sources of building energy. It was the same with the cultural committee. When I arrived at the conference room, it was a hive of activity, too, and everyone seemed to be in a hurry. The door was usually kept shut, but that day, it seemed to be open the whole time.
Inside was Yukinoshita, briskly managing one thing or another. Sagami was beside her, too, sitting like a doll. Haruno was spinning around in a chair during a discussion with Meguri. Haruno really had too much time on her hands. Not that I cared.
I went into the conference room to check the shift schedule for my sector for the next two days as an endless stream of people burst in.
“Vice-chair. The test upload on the website is complete.”
“Understood. Sagami, your approval,” Yukinoshita said, but even as she did, she was checking it herself.
“Yeah, it’s okay,” said Sagami.
“All right, then please upload it onto the live server.” With each item checked off the list, another was added.
“Yukinoshita, there isn’t enough equipment for the volunteers!”
“Volunteer Management, negotiate with the volunteer representative. Please defer to the judgment of the equipment managers for the loans and just send the report back to me,” Yukinoshita instructed immediately, before remembering the girl sitting beside her. “Sagami, if there are no particular issues, I think we can move this along.”
“Oh yeah. I think that’s fine.”
Some things proceeded smoothly, while others hit a few bumps in the road. But Yukinoshita fielded each and every matter regardless, and the gears of the Cultural Festival Committee were spinning smoothly. Largely due to her.
“The volunteers’ rehearsals are running late, so we’ll be shifting their rehearsal time until after the opening ceremony. Keep that in mind.” She took a pause for breath after giving the instructions.
Haruno had crept up behind her and swept her up in a tight hug. “That’s my Yukino-chan!”
“Get off me, get away from me, and get out.” Yukinoshita brushed her off and turned to her computer.
Haruno pulled away from Yukinoshita and gently put a hand on her shoulder. “You really are doing so well, Yuki. It’s just like back when I was committee chair.”
“Yes, it really is. It’s thanks to you, Yukinoshita,” Meguri said, singing her praises, too.
“I’m really not doing all that much…” Yukinoshita began typing louder, perhaps to hide her embarrassment.
“That’s not true. Your presence here has been such a big help,” said Meguri, and every one of the executives there nodded in agreement. When times had gotten toughest, they’d all been the ones pulling this event together. They must have felt the impact of Yukinoshita’s work particularly keenly.
But one of the administrators seemed a little tense. Sagami was unable to speak, and her smile was a mask.
“This really is what a cultural committee should be! Man, I hope you guys feel accomplished!” said Haruno, and everyone nodded. They were filled with satisfaction, aware that they were living up to their duty as members of the Cultural Festival Committee.
That was why nobody sensed the additional implications. She was repudiating what the cultural committee had been until recently, as well as criticizing Sagami as a leader. Most likely, the only people to notice would be the mean-spirited types and those who felt guilty.
Sagami crumpled a printout on the table into a ball.
Beside her, Haruno was smiling. “Looking forward to tomorrow! …Right?” For just an instant, Haruno’s gaze flicked toward me. I still couldn’t divine what future those dark eyes saw.
It wouldn’t be long before the curtain rose on the carnival of unbridled enthusiasm, youth, lies, and pretense. Finally, the cultural festival was about to arrive.
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