Seishun Buta Yarou Series - Volume 10 - Chapter 2.4

4

“So you’re still in the throes of adolescence,” Rio said.

He’d filled her in on Uzuki, and that was her first reaction.

They’d each finished up their lessons for the day.

They were in a family restaurant, which was still 80 percent full even at ten PM.

Kaede was working today, and she’d taken their orders. But it was his old kohai Tomoe Koga who brought their food. Neither one of them was on the floor now. High school students could only work till ten. They were both in the staff room, getting ready to head home.

“I’ve retained my childish innocence.”

“And you’re weirdly sensitive for a rascal.”

“Haven’t heard that word in a while.”

Rio ignored this. “It sounds like just what you think it is,” she said.

“Meaning?”

“An idol who couldn’t read the room learned how.”

“Is that even possible?”

Uzuki’s ditziness had been just that ingrained. Not something she could just fix overnight.

“You’re hell-bent on tying this to Adolescence Syndrome, huh?”

“I mean, I’m hoping it isn’t.”

He meant this.

He’d gone a year and a half without encountering any and would happily stay that way.

But it was also true that Uzuki’s thing made a lot more sense if it was Adolescence Syndrome. That’s how uncanny her transformation was.

“Even if it was Adolescence Syndrome, she wasn’t worried about her ditziness, right?”

“Right.”

She likely had been at one point. Unable to converse with her peers or make friends, she’d found herself isolated. Uzuki herself had said she spent junior and senior high like that.

But before she met Sakuta, she’d dropped out of conventional schooling, switched to remote learning, and moved past it.

She’d obtained happiness on her own terms.

Her mom had helped her find it in her.

That side of Uzuki had been a goalpost for Kaede when she was struggling with not being like other people. She’d given Kaede courage. And that had made his sister into a lifelong fan.

“So I don’t see a reason why she’d get Adolescence Syndrome.”

“Exactly.”

Talking to Rio had brought him to the same conclusion. There was no problem. And that felt like a problem. But if there wasn’t a problem, then how could there be a problem? Was this a Zen koan?

“You don’t look satisfied.”

“Well, no. If it was just reading the room, then fine. But doesn’t it creep you out a bit that her clothing suddenly started matching everyone else’s?”

Even now, there was a group of three college girls at a nearby table, all sporting a similar look. Knee-length skirts, fancy blouses, hair gently curled around their shoulders. Makeup that made their cheeks look slightly flushed like they’d just stepped out of the bath. They were happily chitchatting, doing a postmortem on a mixer—or rather, dissing all the disappointing men they’d met there.

“I think this new cute girl you’re friends with hit the nail on the head there.”

Rio sounded a bit curt. She took a sip of her coffee. There was a hint of color on her lips. She kept it subtle, but Rio had started wearing makeup in college, too.

“She’s still just a potential friend.”

“But you don’t deny the cute part.”

“What nail on what head?”

Better to move the conversation along before she needled him any further.

“If you’re looking at the same sources, even if you don’t directly discuss it, that shared info will put you all in the same ballpark. A natural outcome of basic social skills.”

Rio acted like this didn’t affect her, but this perception was exactly what was bugging Sakuta.

“But isn’t that a lot like quantum entanglement?”

In that state, particles could instantly share information and behavior without the advent of a connective medium. Rio had told him about this.

“If you bend the results to your desired interpretation, maybe. That’s as far as I’m willing to go.”

She looked up from her coffee and surreptitiously glanced at the table in back.

“Let’s say there’s a community in a state of quantum entanglement.”

Rio’s eyes were on the girls who’d come from a mixer.

“Okay.”

“They meet up with a friend who isn’t entangled.”

This was nicely timed—a fourth girl arrived late, joining her friends. They’d come up empty at the mixer and called in other friends. But this friend alone was wearing a military-surplus jacket, and she stuck out like a sore thumb.

“So I see.”

“And if this late arrival happens to get dragged into the entanglement phenomenon, she’ll end up sharing information and syncing with the community. So I do get where you’re coming from, Azusagawa.”

The late arrival took off her jacket the moment she sat down. Beneath it, she was wearing exactly what the other three were.

It was like she’d synchronized with them, becoming one with their group.

Simply a result of everyone getting on the same wavelength.

That made it sound like no big deal, but reading the room, acting the part of a college girl, being mindful of the time and the place—would all that stuff really result in hair, makeup, and clothing choices turning out this similar? Managing it to this degree without prior consultation sure felt like some sort of superpower at play.

“In which case, this case might be the other way around.”

“Meaning?”

“If this is Adolescence Syndrome, the cause isn’t Uzuki Hirokawa, but all the other college girls. The ones who can read a room.”

Rio was dropping bombshells.

But this one made sense. Especially after using the group in back as an example—her words felt like the most logical conclusion.

“We could say this Adolescence Syndrome is unconsciously sharing information, creating a medium state of values for what counts as normal, for what everyone’s doing. Or we could say the syndrome is creating an unconscious network with quantum entanglement–like properties, and the synchronization is merely a result of that.”

“Affecting all college students?”

“Yep. Every single one.”

This really was a heck of an idea. It boggled the mind. The scale involved was far worse than he’d imagined. But it was also true that no matter which campus you went to, there were similar student groups, dressed alike, sharing values, and acting the same.

And unlike Uzuki herself, they had reasons to cause Adolescence Syndrome.

Miori had told him as much.

For years, their uniforms had shaped their identities. Classrooms had given them a place to belong.

College didn’t work like that. No uniforms, no classroom to call home. Everything that defined them was taken away, so without knowing it, without consciously trying for it, they all searched for ways to be a college student. That cluster of vague insecurities might be what Rio meant by normal or everyone.

“If that’s the nature of the Adolescence Syndrome, then I can see why it would target her.”

“’Cause Zukki gonna Zukki?”

Uzuki had aways been true to herself. As an idol, on TV, even in fashion magazines. To students at a loss to define themselves, that had been dazzling—and thus, something they’d rather not look at directly.

So they’d targeted her.

Dragged her in.

“From that point on, this is more your field, Azusagawa.”

“Is it?”

“Statistical science analyzes this stuff, right?”

“Freshmen are just doing core curriculum and foundational mathematics.”

He wasn’t taking any major-specific classes yet. It didn’t feel like he was doing statistics, science, or statistical science.

“But in this particular case, what we’re saying here may not mean much.”

“You think?”

It felt like Rio had helped change his perspective on things.

“You know what I mean,” she said grimly. “If anything’s gonna come of this…it hasn’t yet.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.”

Rio was right there with him.

“When you learn to read the room…you’ll figure a lot of things out,” she warned.

“Good or bad.”

“And you’re worried that’ll change her?”

“Well, isn’t that what fans do?”

Kaede wasn’t the only one who’d been saved by Uzuki’s way of life. Her helping Kaede out had helped Sakuta by proxy. Nodoka had been right; Uzuki had a knack for bringing a smile to everyone’s face. He didn’t want to see a cloud pass over her light.

They were friends now, so it was natural to feel that way.

But whatever Sakuta might want, things changed.

Uzuki could read the room now.

And that meant she could see things she hadn’t before.

Like what everyone around had thought of her when she couldn’t.

“Make sure you aren’t caught cheating,” Rio said. It was unclear if that was a joke or not. Her eyes were on the wall clock; they’d already been here an hour. It was 10:20.

“Kaede’s taking long enough.”

She’d said to wait for her so they could walk home together, but she’d yet to emerge from the changing room.

“I’ll poke my head in the back room. You go on home, Futaba.”

“Oh? Okay.”

Rio dropped her share of the check on the table, said, “See you at work,” and left the restaurant.

Once she was gone, Sakuta called the manager over and settled the bill.

Then he headed into the back room, searching for Kaede.

As he passed the kitchen counter, he heard voices in the staff room. Both speakers were girls he knew.

He poked his head in and found exactly what he’d expected. Kaede and Tomoe, still in their server uniforms. They were both staring at Kaede’s phone.

“Are you still not changed?”

“Oh, senpai!” Tomoe said, looking up.

“Sakuta, look! Uzuki’s being amazing.”

“Mm?”

He didn’t know what that could mean. Uzuki was certainly on his mind, but Kaede didn’t know anything about that.

“Hurry up and look!”

“I’m the one trying to get you to hurry up,” he grumbled. They couldn’t go home until she changed.

“It’s legitimately amazing!”

She shoved the phone in his face, forcing him to look.

It was the wireless headphone commercial Takumi had shown him.

A young woman singing a cappella, covering a Touko Kirishima song. The ad had generated a bunch of buzz.

And since they only showed her lips, everyone was wondering just who the singer was. Takumi had told him as much.

Hiding her face certainly made you curious.

Sakuta had wondered about it himself.

If the camera had panned just a bit higher—but that commercial had ended before it did. This one was a full thirty seconds longer.

And the song hit the last chorus.

The singer’s voice soared, transcendent.

The camera panned from her chest to her neck to her lips—and as the song ended, they could at last make out her face.

The sweat on her brow.

Cheeks flushed with passion.

A triumphant smile that Sakuta had seen before.

The one he had seen that day on campus.

That was unmistakably Uzuki.

“They just released the extended cut today! And it’s already got a million views!”

Kaede was positively giddy. It certainly seemed impressive, but Sakuta wasn’t really sure how impressive.

More than the number of views, the commercial’s direction and the beauty and strength of her voice got under his skin. There was power radiating off the screen, and not one that could be described with mere logic.

Sakuta was clearly not the only one who’d felt that way. The video was flooded with comments.

This is the ditzy girl from all those game shows, right?

I didn’t even know she sang.

This makes her look hot.

God damn.

That’s what real singing is!

Zukki’s era has arrived!

Some knew who Uzuki was; some didn’t.

But this commercial had made everyone want to know more.

And those roiling emotions had a real heat to them—the kind that made things happen.