Seishun Buta Yarou Series - Volume 11 - Chapter 3.5

5

Sakuta rang the intercom on his parents’ place. There was a five-second delay, and then his father answered.

“It’s me,” Sakuta said, putting his face near the little lens.

“Oh. Be right there.”

The interphone cut out, and he heard footsteps coming. The lock turned, and the door swung open.

There stood his father, a sandal on one foot. It was Saturday, but he was still in slacks and a collared shirt.

“What brings you here?”

“A son can’t come home without a reason?”

Sakuta was the family’s kid.

“Of course you can, but…”

“Hello,” Mai said, stepping into view before he could say more. “Nice to be here.”

“Oh, hi. Hello, Mai. You came, too?”

She hadn’t been on the interphone’s camera, and his father was clearly rattled.

“Sakuta, you should warn…,” he began, but then he caught Mai’s look and let it drop. Not an argument to have in front of your son’s girlfriend. “Come on in.”

He held the door open, waving them both through.

“Dear, it’s Sakuta and Mai!” he called.

The apartment had a standard two-bedroom layout.

“Really? How nice to see you!”

Sakuta’s mother was sitting at the dining table just inside the entrance.

“Sorry to drop by unannounced,” Mai said, bowing her head.

“Don’t worry about it. Welcome home, Sakuta.”

“Nice to be back. We brought presents.”

They’d bought pudding in the Yokohama Station department store basement, and he set it down on the table.

“Thanks. We’ll have to eat that later.”

She smiled at his father and put the pudding in the fridge. Meanwhile, his father ushered them into the living room.

Once they were settled on the couch, Sakuta’s mother asked, “Are you staying for dinner? I’ll have to add a dish or two and reprep the rice cooker.”

“No…”

But before Sakuta could insist they weren’t staying long, Mai got to her feet.

“I’ll help,” she said, joining his mother in the kitchen.

“Oh? You don’t mind?” She seemed unsure she should really let the famous actress help.

“I wanna learn the secrets to ‘Mom’s cooking,’” Mai insisted.

“Golly, it’s like you two are newlyweds already!”

His mother looked pretty pleased and got an apron out for Mai. They started peeling potatoes together, talking about Sakuta as they worked. Mai always acted a tad more formal around his parents, which was a strange feeling.

But he was glad to see her building a good relationship with them.

He’d first introduced her to his mother in March this year. He’d come over to tell them he’d passed his exams and gotten into college, and he’d brought Mai with him.

With Kaede doing better, their mother had stabilized, and he’d hoped it would be safe to start pushing the boundaries.

But it still came as quite a surprise. Mai Sakurajima was a household name. And his mother had been watching her act since she was a tiny child. Having someone like that show up as your son’s girlfriend made it hard to act normal.

Sakuta’s father had told her about Mai, of course, and that likely helped her keep it together.

But she’d definitely spent several minutes dreamily going, “It’s really true! It really is. You’re really…just as beautiful.”

And since then, they’d come over to visit on several other occasions.

“Coming from school?” his father asked, lowering the volume on the news. He was trying his best to be hospitable.

“Basically.”

The screen was already showing early Christmas illumination news.

“Don’t suppose you two remember the Akagis at all?” Sakuta asked.

Mai’s eyes snapped to him. She was probably wondering if this was safe to bring up around his mother.

She’d been unable to find a way to help Kaede with her bullies, felt like she was a failure of a mother, and had a breakdown. It had been bad enough she couldn’t live a normal life afterward.

But that was no longer the case. Kaede, Sakuta, their mom, and their dad had all gotten through the hard times and were able to spend time together as a family again.

And seeing how much Kaede was enjoying life gave their mother mental fortitude.

Knowing Sakuta was having fun with his amazing girlfriend gave her confidence.

She’d happily said as much herself.

So he was pretty sure she could handle this much.

And he was right.

Neither of his parents batted an eye.

“The Akagis? Yes, I remember them. They had a daughter, right?”

“Mm.”

“I believe her mother was a lawyer.”

That was news to him. Maybe Ikumi’s serious/righteous thing came from her mother’s legal experience.

“And I’m pretty sure she was on the PTA,” his dad added.

“That’s right! Managing that alongside work is something else.”

It sounded like her mother also never took time off. In high school, Akagi had been class president and volunteered; now she was going to nursing school and playing hero.

“But what brought that on?” his mother asked, eyes on her cooking.

“Akagi goes to our college. Different major, but I bumped into her recently. I didn’t remember her at all, so I was just wondering what she was like.”

“Then I’ve got just the thing.”

“Mm?”

His father stood up, opened the sliding door, and vanished into a bedroom. He came back with an album in a crisp paper case.

“……”

He held it out to Sakuta.

It was quite heavy.

“Is this…?”

He didn’t really have to ask.

The term had already floated into his mind.

His graduation album.

“Found it with the winter things.”

He took it out of the case.

The cover bore the name of his junior high.

Not exactly a trip down memory lane.

He’d never even seen the graduation album before.

He didn’t even remember opening it once. Had likely never taken it out of the case it came in.

Brand-new, consigned to the junk drawer.

But somehow, it had ended up back in his hands.

“The moving men spotted it and double-checked if we really wanted to throw it out.”

“……”

“I assumed you might not want it now, but at some point in the future, you might change your mind.”

“Maybe…,” Sakuta said. He opened to the first page.

Left fallow for years, the album was stiff, the pages plastered to each other. Each page he turned made tearing noises.

He stopped at the page for Class 3-1.

Sakuta’s glum face was at the front of the class.

Azusagawa, always the first in line.

Ikumi was at the front of the girls’ side, looking collected.

Akagi was also always first.

That jogged a few memories.

Sakuta and Ikumi had sat next to each other at the start of their third year. Each first in their row.

He turned another page. The smell of ink and paper wafted off the album and down his nostrils. It felt like a trip down memory lane, even if these weren’t the memories he wanted. His body reacted instinctively, like this was stamped into his DNA.

Past the sections on each class, he found a collage of school activity photos. All the students looked fresh-faced at the entrance ceremony. Hyped up at a sports festival. Excitedly showing off culture festival costumes. There were pictures of sporting leagues and field trips.

Everyone was having fun. Like the three years they spent together had been a blast.

There wasn’t a single glimpse of the gray misery he’d lived through. It was all vivid colors. This album was a lie.

He turned more pages, and the pictures gave way to black-and-white text.

Two essays per page, one from a boy, one from a girl. Class 3-1’s first page had Sakuta Azusagawa’s and Ikumi Akagi’s names side by side at the top.

Living Up to My Ideals

Ikumi Akagi, Class 3-1

For my elementary school graduation essay, I wrote that I wanted to grow up to be someone who helps others. At the time, I thought junior high school students were grown-ups, but now that I’m graduating, I know I’ve fallen far short of my goals.

I was class president my first year and did my part to help prep and manage the sports and culture festivals. The latter especially—I stayed so late the teachers brought us food, and I know that was worth it. They’re fond memories now.

My second year was all about the student council. I was appointed secretary, and every task that came my way was a new experience. I was in contact with every club and every student government position. I made a ton of friends outside my class and outside my year. I cannot begin to express how grateful I am for the time we spent together.

But in my third year, I failed to do anything.

In high school, I hope this time I really will grow up and really will become someone who helps others.

This was a very formulaic essay.

An expression of her earnest, dedicated personality.

And that’s exactly why the one line devoted to her last year highlighted how intense her regrets were.

She’d likely had more to say.

Maybe she’d even written it.

Perhaps her teacher had edited it down to that line after submission.

The simple phrasing that survived stuck with him.

Maybe he was overthinking it, but Sakuta doubted that very much.

 I failed to do anything.

Anyone who was in that class would know exactly what she was talking about and when.

He’d been right. She did regret it.

Regretted not helping him.

And she was still carrying that. The fact that she remembered what she’d written in her graduation essay proved it.

Perhaps in her mind, she’d made a point of writing that line down in her album as a form of self-reproach.

Most people would soon forget what they’d written. Sakuta sure had.

 I’d like to reach a place of kindness.

At the campus festival, Ikumi had thrown that line back at him, and it hadn’t rung a bell. Had he really written that? He still wasn’t sure.

Sakuta’s own essay was right here, at the top of the page.

Maybe that would jog his memory. With that in mind, he struggled to make out his terrible junior high handwriting.

The contents were as messy as his penmanship. It was clear he’d been told to write something and had forced the words out.

As empty as the essay might be, it was worth struggling through.

No matter how many times he reread it, the line wasn’t there. He hadn’t written that. Hadn’t written I’d like to reach a place of kindness.

A tremor ran through him. He felt downright dizzy.

Sakuta hadn’t written those words.

But they reminded him of something.

A treasured concept taught to him by his first love.

How had Ikumi known about it?

His swirling thoughts began to gather, coalescing into an answer.

“If she…”

And the very idea sent a chill through him.

It was probably dead on.

He felt sure of it.

Yet that didn’t bring him any comfort. Quite the opposite.

Sakuta had finally found the answer he was looking for, but he was just as lost as before.