7
Sometimes, the gods of romantic comedy are kind.
Days of this and that passed, and our tennis program plunged into phase two. I made it sound cool right there, but essentially, we just finished doing basic workouts and finally started practicing with a ball and racket.
I say we, but actually, the only one practicing was Totsuka. He was on his own as he desperately pitted himself against a wall under the instruction of the drill sergeant from hell—er, Yukinoshita.
Well, the rest of us didn’t have to do this tennis club practice or whatever, so each of us just passed the time however we wanted. Yukinoshita was reading a book in the shade while occasionally glancing over to see how Totsuka was doing and yelling at him to snap to it, as if just remembering why she was actually there. Yuigahama had started out practicing with Totsuka but had gotten sick of it almost immediately and was spending most of her time napping near Yukinoshita. She was like a dog taken on a walk to the park only to get tired and flop down by the water fountain.
Then there was Zaimokuza, fully intent on developing his magic strike. Agh, geez, don’t throw acorns. And don’t dig up the clay court with your racket, either.
Gathering together a bunch of failures only results in a greater fail after all.
Me? I was zoning out in a corner of the court while observing some ants. Fun times.
No, really, it’s fun. I don’t know what those little things are thinking as they scurry around, but they live a pretty harried lifestyle. I dunno. Maybe looking down from a tall office building in Tokyo would elicit the same feeling. The shapes of the salarymen in black suits, coming and going, and the shapes of the worker ants seemed to be one and the same. Eventually, I’ll become just like one of those ants, a black speck seen from above. I wonder how I’ll feel about life then.
I don’t mind salarymen, and actually, I’d even like to be one. It’s a pretty secure life. It’s number two on the list of things I’d like to be in the future after househusband. Number three is a fire engine. Yeah, like I’m gonna be a car.
Of course, I know full well that being a salaryman isn’t all fun and games. When I see my father’s face after he comes home from work, he’s exhausted from life, and I salute him for that. I think it’s noble to keep on going to work even when bad things happen. So I unconsciously projected my father onto those ants as I mentally cheered them on.
You can do it, Dad. Never surrender, Dad, and don’t surrender your hair follicles, either, Dad. I prayed silently as I dreamed of my future and worried about the prospects of my hairline in the years to come. Perhaps my prayers were heard, because the ant was marching back to the hole from whence it had come. I’m sure that was what it was doing. I was so moved, I sniffled and wiped away a tear.
Just then…
Smash!!
“Dad!!”
The ant suddenly disappeared along with a tennis ball, leaving no trace behind. Eyes burning with rage, I glared back in the direction the ball had come from.
“Hmm…so I toss up dust to dazzle my opponent and then take that opportunity to drive the ball in their direction. It seems my magic strike is complete! This is my fecund illusory earth, Blasty Sandrock!”
So it was you, Zaimokuza… You were the one who did this to my father (the ant)…but whatever. It’s just an ant. I put my hands together in a light prayer for the deceased.
Basking in the lingering memory of his successful technique, Zaimokuza spun his racket around before slinging it over his shoulder and posing. It looked like he’d just gained some EXP.
Well, I didn’t give a damn about Zaimokuza or that ant. Guess I’ll watch Totsuka being cute to kill some time.
I could see Yuigahama, who’d woken up at some point, laboriously dragging around the ball cart under Yukinoshita’s direction. She tossed out balls one after another as Totsuka struggled to hit them all back.
“Yuigahama, give him some more difficult tosses, like over here and over there. It’s not real practice unless you do.”
Totsuka received balls near the lines and by the net, his ragged breathing contrasting sharply with Yukinoshita’s calm voice. Yukinoshita was serious. A serious jerk.
No, I mean you’re seriously training him. You’re scaring me, so don’t look this way… How do you know what I’m thinking?
Yuigahama’s throws not only had terrible form, her aim was all over the place, and the balls flew unpredictably. Totsuka tried to run after them all, but after about the twentieth ball, he skidded and fell.
“Ahh! Sai-chan, are you okay?!” Yuigahama halted her throw and ran up to the net.
Totsuka smiled with teary eyes as he stroked his scraped knee.
He’s so brave. “I’m fine, so keep going.”
But Yukinoshita grimaced. “You wanna keep going?”
“Yeah… You’re all helping me with this, so I want to try a little more.”
“I see. Then you take it from here, Yuigahama,” Yukinoshita said and spun around, striding away to disappear into the school building.
Totsuka watched her uneasily and mumbled, “D-did I maybe say something to make her angry?”
“No, she’s always like that,” I replied. “In fact, she’s not calling you foolish or incompetent, so there’s a fair chance she’s in a good mood.”
“Aren’t you the only one she talks to like that, Hikki?”
No, I think she talks to you like that a lot too, Yuigahama. You just don’t notice.
“Maybe…she’s fed up with me… No matter how much we keep doing this, I never get any better, and I can only do five pushups…” Totsuka’s shoulders slumped as he looked down. Well, that did sound like the sort of opinion Yukinoshita would have. But…
“I don’t think so. Yukinon doesn’t give up on people who look to her for help,” Yuigahama said, rolling a tennis ball around in her hands.
“Yeah, that’s true. I mean, she even helped you with your cooking. She went that far for you, and there’s still some hope for Totsuka, so she’s not going to give up on him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Yuigahama threw the tennis ball she’d been fiddling with at my head. It made a stupid-sounding thunk; a clean hit on my noggin. Hey, you’ve actually got nice aim. You’ll get snapped up in the next draft.
I picked up the ball as it bounced away and tossed it lightly toward Yuigahama. “She’ll be back soon enough. I think you can just keep going.”
“Okay!” Totsuka replied cheerfully, returning to his practice. After that, he didn’t grumble once or voice a single complaint. He tried really hard.
“Man, I’m tired! You do the throwing now, Hikki!”
Yuigahama’s giving in first? Come on.
Well, it wasn’t like I had anything better to do. All I was doing was dedicated ant observation, and that ant had been murdered by Zaimokuza, leaving me with completely loose ends. I had nothing to do.
“All right. I’ll trade.”
“Yay! Oh, this is the first time I’ve given up after five throws, so watch out.”
Five throws? That was way too fast. Just how bad was her endurance? I moved to take the balls from Yuigahama, but then her expression, which had been a cheery smile, grew shadowed.
“Oh, they’re playing tennis! Tennis!” I heard the squeal of a chittery voice and turned to see a great crowd walking our way with Hayama and Miura at the center. They were just passing Zaimokuza and had apparently noticed Yuigahama and me.
“Oh… So it’s Yui-chan and her friends,” a girl beside Miura observed quietly.
Miura glanced at Yuigahama and me, casually ignored us, and called out to Totsuka. It seemed she hadn’t even noticed Zaimokuza from the start. “Hey, Totsuka. Can we play here, too?”
“Miura, I’m not exactly…playing… This is practice…”
“Huh? What? I can’t hear you.”
Miura seemed unable to hear Totsuka’s too-quiet protests, and her retort silenced him. Well, if she’d asked for me to repeat myself like she’d just asked him, I’d have fallen silent, too. She’s seriously scary.
Totsuka scrabbled together what little courage he had and opened his mouth once more. “I-I’m practicing…”
But the queen didn’t give a damn about that. “Hmph. But, like, these guys aren’t part of your club. So that means it’s not, like, just the boys’ tennis club using the court now, right?”
“Y-yes, that’s true, but—”
“Then it’s okay for us to use it, too, right? Hey, how about it?”
“But…,” he began and then looked at me like he wanted help.
Huh? Me? Oh, well, I guess there was only me. Yukinoshita was still off somewhere, Yuigahama was awkwardly looking away, and no one cared about Zaimokuza. So that left just me, eh?
“Oh, sorry, but Totsuka asked for permission to use the court, so others can’t use it.”
“Huh? Like I said, you guys aren’t in the club, but you’re using it.”
“Yeah, but we’re just helping Totsuka out with his practice. It’s sort of like subcontracting or outsourcing.”
“Huh? What are you even talking about? Creepy.”
Wow, she had no intention of listening to me at all. This is why I hate idiot sluts like her. If words don’t get through to her, does she still even count as a primate? I could have more of a conversation with some dog.
“C’mon, don’t pick a fight.” Hayama came between us as if to smooth things over. “Listen, the more the merrier. Can’t everyone play?”
Those words sparked something. Miura had cocked back the hammer, and Hayama had pulled the trigger. All that was left was to let the bullet fly.
“Who’s this everyone? Is that the same everyone as the one you bring up when you pester your mom to buy you something by saying, ‘Everyone’s got one!’? Who the hell are these guys? I have no friends, so I’ve never used that tactic.”
The bullet flew for its target after passing right through my foot. A brilliant shot! A miraculous attack!
Even Hayama was shaken by my quip. “Uh, well, I didn’t mean it that way. Hey, I’m sorry. Um, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here, if you want.” He rushed to comfort me with dazzling speed.
Hayama is a good guy. I almost said, “Thanks…” or something with tears in my eyes. But. If that small amount of sympathy were enough to save me, my personality wouldn’t have gotten this bad. If that one line could solve someone’s issues, no one would have any issues in the first place.
“Hayama, I appreciate your kindness. I know you’re a good guy. And you’re the ace of the soccer team. You’re even good-looking to boot. You must be so popular with the ladies.”
“Wh-where’s this coming from?” Hayama was visibly shaken by the sudden flattery.
Hmph, just keep thinking you’re so great. I’m sure you have no idea. Why do you think people praise one another? It’s in order to raise them up even higher so it’s easier to knock their feet out from under them and drag them down from their pedestal! This is known as death-by-praise.
“You’re talented and have so much, and yet you want to take even the tennis court from me, who has nothing? Aren’t you ashamed, as a human being?”
“He speaks truth! Whatever-your-name-is Hayama! Yours is the most reproachable form of conduct and a violation of ethics! This is an invasion! The right of vengeance is mine!” At some point Zaimokuza had come up to us and launched into a dramatic speech.
“S-seeing both of you together is twice as annoying and pathetic…” Yuigahama, beside us, was at a loss for words.
Hayama scratched his head and then gave a short sigh. “Hmm, oh, okay…”
A wicked smile slipped onto my lips. That was it. Hayama didn’t like stirring up trouble. And at that moment, the players involved in the scene were myself, Zaimokuza, and Hayama. Hayama was trying to calm down the situation while being faced down by superior numbers.
“Hey, Hayato!” A bored-sounding voice slipped in from the side. “Why’re you taking so long with these guys? I wanna play tennis.”
Agh, here come the stupid curls again. Are your brain cells twisted up like that, too? Keep up with the topic at hand. People like you step on the accelerator when they mean to hit the brakes.
Miura actually had mixed up the accelerator and the brakes just then.
Her words had given Hayama a moment to think. In that brief interval, his mind turned the key in the ignition. “Hmm. Okay then, how about this? Us non–club members will play a match, and the winner will be able to use the tennis court at lunch from now on. Of course, they’ll help Totsuka with his practice. It’ll be better for him to practice with people who are better at tennis, anyway. And everyone can have fun.”
What’s with that flawless logic? Are you a genius?
“A tennis match? Whaaat, that sounds totally fun.” Miura gave that ferocious smile, appropriate for the queen of fire.
Instantly, their hangers-on cheered excitedly. That was the moment we burst into phase three, swept along by the fever of competition in wild enthusiasm and mayhem. I made it sound cool right there, but basically, we were having a match with the tennis court as the stakes.
Why was this happening…?
I was being somewhat facetious when I tossed out the phrase “wild enthusiasm and mayhem,” but that was how things unfolded. This tennis court in the corner of the schoolyard was now crowded and bustling with commotion. Had I bothered to take a head count, I’m sure it would easily have been over two hundred people. Of course, Hayama’s clique was there, and a lot of others had heard rumors from somewhere and had descended upon us. The majority of them were Hayama’s friends and fans. They were mainly second-years, but there were some first-years mixed in, and I could see a few third-years sprinkled in, too.
For real? He’s more popular than most politicians.
“HA-YA-TO! WOO! HA-YA-TO! WOO!” After the audience cheered his name, they started a wave.
This was totally like a pop idol concert. I don’t think all that cheering was completely sincere. The majority of them were just rubbernecking to see a spectacle. Right? I wanted to believe that. Either way, from an outsider’s perspective, their enthusiasm seemed rather cold, and there was an almost religious air to it. It was a truly fearsome teenage religion indeed.
In that crucible of chaos, Hayato boldly strode to the center of the court. Even with this many spectators gathered around, he wasn’t the least bit hesitant. He was probably used to that degree of attention. Surrounding him were not only his usual hangers-on but also boys and girls from other classes. We were completely engulfed by them. Gazes flitted here, there, and everywhere, and when I closed my eyes, I ended up dizzy from the earsplitting tumult of it all.
Hayama was already holding a racket and standing on the court. He gazed at us as if deeply interested to see who would step forward.
“Hey, Hikki. What’ll we do?” an anxious-looking Yuigahama asked.
“We’re not doing anything.” I glanced toward Totsuka. And speaking of Totsuka, he was acting like a pet rabbit abandoned at someone else’s house. He walked up to my side, timidly pigeon-toed.
What the hell? So cute. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who thought so, and I could hear the shrill sound of girls’ cheering Prince! and Cutie-Sai! flying at the figure who stimulated such protective urges. But every time Totsuka heard those cheers, his shoulders trembled. Seeing his reaction, the Totsuka fans freaked out even harder and wailed. Even I freaked out a bit.
“Totsuka isn’t going to play, huh…?” Hayama had said it was a match between non–club members. In other words, this was a match with Totsuka and the tennis court on the line.
“Zaimokuza, can you play tennis?”
“Leave it to me. I read the entire series, and I even saw the musical. I have a slight advantage in this quaint game of ball and net.”
“I was stupid for asking you. And if you’re gonna think up a lame way to say tennis, then come up with one for musical, too.”
“Then there is naught but for you to play, Hachiman. And how would I say musical in an old-fashioned way, then?”
“Good point.”
“Do you have a chance at victory? And what would be an old-timey way to say musical?!”
“No, I don’t. And shut up. If you can’t find a way to change it into something else, then change that character you’re playing. You’re already out of characters, anyway.”
“I-I see… You’re so smart.” I impressed him so much, he snapped out of character. It appeared Zaimokuza’s problem was solved now, but mine was not, not by a long shot. Agh…what a mess.
As I was coming to my wits’ end, a certain someone tossed a rude and irritated remark at me. “Hey, can you hurry it up?” I raised my head, thinking, Shut up, you slut, and there was Miura, grasping her racket as if she was checking it.
It seemed I wasn’t the only one surprised to see her holding a racket. Hayama was, too. “Huh? You’re gonna play, Yumiko?”
“What? Of course I am. I’ve been saying I want to play tennis.”
“Well, but they’re probably going to have boys play. You know, um, Hikitani, was it? That guy. Then you’ll be at a disadvantage,” Hayama said as if in warning.
Who’s Hikitani? Hikitani isn’t going to be playing. Hikigaya is playing. Probably.
Miura thought a bit while she sproinged her ringlet-curl things. “Oh, then, we should just make it a boys-girls mixed doubles match. Oh man, I’m so smart. But, like, are there any girls who would even pair with you, Hikitani? That would be too funny.” Miura guffawed in crass, shrill cackling, and the hangers-on all burst out laughing with her. Even I laughed before I realized what I was doing. Heh-heh-heh…feh-huh-huh. Frustrating to admit it works, but extremely effective nonetheless. I was engulfed by darkness.
“Hachiman. This is dire. You have no female friends. And if you were to try asking some girl you don’t know, none of them would help a nondescript, lonely bastard like you. What’ll you do?”
Shut up, Zaimokuza. He was completely right, though, so I couldn’t tell him to take it back.
It was too late to say, Sooorry, forget all that stuff I said! at this stage of the game. I glanced toward Zaimokuza, wondering what I should do, and he looked away awkwardly, avoiding my eyes as he whistled voicelessly. When I let slip a sigh, Yuigahama and Totsuka followed suit as if part of a chain reaction.
“Hikigaya. I’m sorry. This would have worked out if…I were a girl…”
It’s true. I wonder why he’s not a girl. He’s so cute. “Don’t worry about it.” I kept my thoughts to myself and patted Totsuka’s head. “And…don’t you worry about it, either. You have a proper place where you belong, so you should keep it safe,” I said, and Yuigahama’s shoulders twitched as she bit her lips apologetically.
Yuigahama had a position within the class. Unlike me, she was capable of forming proper human relationships. She still actually wanted to be friends with Miura and her clique. Though I am indeed a loner, it wasn’t like I was jealous of crowds who were friendly with one another. It wasn’t like I was praying for their misfortune… I’m not lying, okay? Really.
Ours was neither a close circle nor a group of friends. We were just a ragtag band brought together by fate, or rather, dragged together by fate.
I just wanted to prove this one thing: that loners are not pitiful people, and that being a loner does not make you inferior. I was completely enlightened by the knowledge this was purely for the sake of my own ego. I was super-enlightened. So enlightened I could teleport and breathe fire and stuff.
But I didn’t want to deny the validity of who I was then or who I was in the past. I would never say that my time spent alone was a sin or that being alone was evil. And that was why I would fight in order to prove the truth of my justice.
I walked alone to the center of the court.
“…it.” I heard a tiny sigh, so tiny it was nearly lost in the crowd.
“Huh?”
“I said I’ll do it!” Groaning quietly, Yuigahama’s face was bright red.
“Yuigahama? You idiot. Don’t be stupid. Forget about it.”
“What’s so dumb about this?!”
“Why’re you doing this? Are you stupid? Or do you like me?”
“Wh…what? You’re the stupidhead talking nonsense. You’re so stupid!” A terrible, menacing look on her face, Yuigahama yelled, “Stupid, stupid” at me over and over, so mad she was turning crimson. She stole the racket from me and swung it violently.
“S-s-s-sorry!” While somehow managing to dodge her swipes, I immediately apologized. That whooshing sound skimming by my ear was really scary. As I apologized, I pleaded Why? with my eyes.
Yuigahama apparently picked up on that, and she looked away shyly.
“Well…like…y’know? I’m in the Service Club, too…so it’s normal for me to do this, right? It’s…where I belong and stuff.”
“Hey, calm down. Take a good look at this situation, okay? Our club isn’t the only place you belong. Look, the girls in your clique are giving you the stink-eye.”
“Huh? Actually for real?” Face twitching, Yuigahama glanced over toward where Hayama and the others stood. Her neck turned around so jerkily, you could almost hear it creak. It was so unnatural, I wanted to tell her to put some WD-40 on it.
The girls of Hayama’s group, with Miura at their head, crossed their arms and glowered our way. Of course they would. You made such a loud declaration, they could obviously hear you.
Miura’s unnaturally large eyes, colored pitch-black in mascara and eyeliner, were filled with hostility, and her blonde hair, curled in drill-like whirls, swayed in displeasure. Was she Madame Butterfly or what?
“Like, Yui, if you’re gonna stick with those guys, it means you’re going up against us. Are you okay with that?” Queen-like Miura folded her arms and tapped her foot on the ground. It was a pose of royal rage.
Overpowered, Yuigahama gently shut her eyes. Her fingers gripped the hem of her skirt, and nervousness made them tremble. The ogling onlookers burst into an exchange of whispers. This was no different than a public execution. But Yuigahama lifted her head and squared off against the other girl.
“Th-that’s not what I… I mean, it is like that, but… But…my club is important to me, too! So I’m gonna do it.”
“Huh… Oh, really? Don’t embarrass yourself,” Miura replied bluntly. But there was a smile on her face. A smile that blazed like the flames of hell. “Get changed. I’ll lend you a girls’ tennis uniform, so why don’t you come, too?” Miura jerked her chin toward the tennis club’s room to the side of the court. She was probably trying to be nice, but that gesture only gave the appearance of saying, Why don’t I end you in the clubroom?
Yuigahama followed her, her expression stiff, and everyone around issued expressions of pity as she walked away.
Well, you know. My condolences.
“Hey, Hikitani.” Hayama spoke to me as I was pressing my hands together in prayer. He must have had some pretty strong communication skills if he was talking to me. Even though he got my name wrong.
“What?”
“I don’t really know the rules of tennis, and doubles are pretty hard. So maybe we could not take this too seriously?”
“Well, this is amateur tennis. We just hit it back and forth and keep score, right? Like in volleyball.”
Hayama smiled brilliantly. I smiled along with him, a rather unpleasant smirk.
While we were at it, our partners returned. Yuigahama’s face was all red as she drew nearer, trying as hard as she could to pull her hem down over her legs. She was wearing a uniform that was like a polo shirt with a skort. “Like…this tennis outfit is embarrassing… Isn’t this skort kinda short?”
“Uh, don’t you usually wear your skirt about that short?”
“What?! What d’you mean?! Y-you mean you’re always looking?! That’s creepy, so creepy! You’re such a creep!” Yuigahama glared at me in rage and raised her racket.
“It’s okay! I don’t look at all! I don’t even notice! Relax! And don’t hit me!”
“That…kind of makes me mad, too…,” she mumbled, slowly lowering the racket.
Zaimokuza cleared his throat dramatically as if he’d been waiting for that moment. “Hmm. Hachiman. What about our strategy?”
“Well, I guess a good plan would be to aim for the girl.” A dumb-looking girl like that would probably be an instakill. She was definitely the weak point, anyway. Going for her would be a much better idea than taking Hayama head-on.
But when Yuigahama heard me say that, her tone turned wild. “What? Don’t you know, Hikki? Yumiko was in the tennis club in middle school, you know? She went to Regionals.”
I observed the Madame Butterfly known as Yumiko. It was true. Her stance looked legit, and her movements were extremely light.
Watching her, Zaimokuza mumbled, “Heh, so those sausage curls of hers are not just for show, huh?”
“They’re more of a loose wave, though,” said Yuigahama.
Who cares.
The match was a fierce back-and-forth with sparks flying.
At first, there were constant, passionate roars and shrill cheers from the audience, but as the breathtakingly close match continued, more and more they were just following us with their eyes and then exhaling and cheering exuberantly when a point was made. It was just like a pro match on TV.
We were in a long rally, and tensions ran high. As the match progressed, it was as though each smack of the ball took a little bit out of each of us.
What broke the equilibrium was Sausage Curl’s serve. By the time I heard the thwocking sound of ball against racket, the shot was already in the middle of the court like a bullet and bouncing behind me.
What was that? Did the ball just do a sausage curl, too?
I’ll get to the point. Madame Butterfly is a pretty high-level player. “She’s really good,” I muttered.
“I told you so.” For some reason, Yuigahama sounded proud. Was she even on my side?
“Wait, you haven’t been touching the ball at all!”
“Well, I’ve never really played tennis before.” She laughed, like ta-ha-ha! as if to try to distract me from what she’d just said.
“Why are you here if you’ve never played tennis?”
“Ngh! Well, sooorry!”
You idiot, you’ve got it backward. I should be sorry. Just how much of a ridiculously good person are you? You’ve never even played this game, but you’re still saying you’ll play a match in front of a huge crowd for Totsuka’s sake. Not many people can do that. If she were actually good at tennis, it would be incredibly cool, but, well, things don’t always go well, and that’s life, I guess.
At first, it was a pretty even contest between the unparalleled accuracy of my serves and Miura’s flawless receives, but as we got closer to the latter half of the match, the gap between us slowly widened. Well, that was because the opposing pair was concentrating on aiming for Yuigahama, though. Perhaps surprised by my string of surprisingly good plays, they had changed their target. There is also the possibility that they were just completely ignoring me.
“Yuigahama. You guard the front. I’ll try to manage the rear.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
We confirmed our basic plan, and I settled into my prescribed position.
Hayama’s serve came fast and hard. It hit the farthest possible point, the corner of the court, with pinpoint accuracy, and bounced away even farther. But I leaped to the side and desperately reached for the ball. I stretched my racket as far as it would go, and when it touched the ball, I swung with all my might. The ball returned to our opponents’ side of the court, but Madame Butterfly smacked it right back with careful aim.
I didn’t even look; I just rolled to my feet and ran at full speed to where I thought she might be directing it.
I frantically ordered my legs forward, and somehow, they were still listening to me. I ran past the ball and arrived at the point of descent, and when the ball connected with my racket, I aimed for the barest margin of the court and hit it forcefully.
But apparently, Hayama had anticipated that, because he was waiting right there, and with a swipe, he let fly a drop shot right between Yuigahama and me, as if testing us.
I’d lost my balance on that last swing and couldn’t possibly get there in time. I sent Yuigahama a pleading glance, and she ran where the ball was coming down and returned it. But a glancing blow was the best she could do, and the ball soared up high, falling square in front of Madame Butterfly.
Miura fired it back at us at full power. A sadistic smile rose to her lips, and the ball skimmed past Yuigahama’s cheek before disappearing far behind her to bounce in an empty spot on the court.
“Are you okay?” I called out to Yuigahama where she had plopped down on the court instead of going to retrieve the ball.
“That was so scary…,” Yuigahama mumbled, her eyes practically drowning.
Madame Butterfly’s expression softened with concern for a brief moment.
“You’re such a jerk, Yumiko,” joked Hayama.
“What? No way! This kind of thing is normal in a match! I’m not that bad!”
“Oh, so you’re just a sadist, then.” Laughter followed as Hayama and Madame Butterfly teased one another. As if in compliance, the spectators joined in.
“Hikki, we have to win, okay?” Yuigahama said, standing and picking up her racket. Then she let out a tiny “Ow!”
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Sorry. I think I might have pulled something.” She went tee-hee, a coy smile on her face. In a heartbeat, her eyes were overflowing with tears. “If we lose, Sai-chan’ll be in trouble, huh…? Aw, man… This could get nasty… We can’t fix this by just apologizing, huh? Ah, geez!” Yuigahama bit her lip in frustration.
“Well, it’ll all work out somehow. Worse comes to worst, we’ll put Zaimokuza in a girls’ uniform.”
“They’ll be able to tell right away!”
“I guess. Then let’s do this: You just stay in the middle of the court. I’ll handle the rest somehow.”
“What’re you gonna do?”
“Since antiquity, there has been a forbidden move in tennis. It is known as Whoops, my racket turned into a rocket!”
“That’s just rough play!”
“Well, in a pinch, I’ll get serious. When I get serious, I’m more than capable of groveling and shoe licking.”
“That’s some weird stuff to get serious about…” Yuigahama sighed in exasperation, then giggled. Maybe it was her injury, or maybe she’d just laughed so hard that now she was crying, but when she gazed at me, her eyes were moist and red.
“Oh, you’re terribly stupid, Hikki. You’ve got a terrible personality, and you’re even terrible at giving up. You’re just terrible all over. You never gave up back then, either. You just went all the way, yelling so hard it was creepy. You looked so desperate… I remember.”
“Hey, what’re you talking about?”
Yuigahama cut me off. “I just don’t think I can keep up with you,” she said, blown away. She delivered it like a parting remark as she turned her back to me and walked away. She shoved through the confused crowd, saying, “Hey, hey, you’re in the way. You’re in the way!” and then disappeared.
“What was that about?” I was left standing alone in the middle of the court. When I glanced over where Yuigahama’s back had vanished into the crowd, a grating laughter rang through the air.
“What’s wrong? Had a little scrap with your friend? Did she abandon you?”
“Don’t be stupid. We’ve never fought once. We’re not close enough to get into a fight in the first place.”
“Uh…” Hayama and Madame Butterfly actually flinched.
What? That was supposed to be funny.
Oh, I get it. I guess you need a certain degree of intimacy with most people before you can make self-deprecating jokes with them, huh? If you don’t, they just get really weirded out.
Zaimokuza was the only one who got it, and he stifled a laugh. I whirled around, clicking my tongue, and he pretended he had nothing to do with any of this as he mumbled something to himself and disappeared into the crowd. The bastard was running away, huh? Well, if our positions were reversed, I’d most certainly have done the same thing.
His expression growing glum, Totsuka looked at me sadly.
Oh well. I guess it was time to start groveling. I’ll show you serious. If you’re going to suck up, you’ve got to throw away your pride and suck up with all you’ve got, and that’s something I take pride in.
Alone on the tennis court, I felt so helpless it was unbearable, or maybe I’ll just say I was stuck in a painfully awkward atmosphere. Abruptly, the crowd began murmuring.
And then it parted on its own.
“What kind of nonsense is going on here?” Appearing before us was an incredibly displeased-looking Yukinoshita clad in her gym top and a skort. In one hand, she was carrying a first aid kit.
“Oh, hey, where’d you go? And what’s with that outfit?”
“Who knows? I really have no idea. Yuigahama simply asked me to put this on,” Yukinoshita said, and when she turned, Yuigahama popped out at her side. It seemed they had exchanged clothes, and now Yuigahama was wearing Yukinoshita’s uniform. Where did you guys change? No way, not outside?! Mm-hmm…
“I didn’t want us to lose like this, so I got Yukinon to step in.”
“Why me?”
“I mean, you’re the only friend I have who I can ask to do this, Yukinon.”
Yukinoshita twitched. “Fri…end?”
“Yeah, friend.” Yuigahama replied instantly.
Oh, I dunno about that.
“Do you usually ask your friends to handle trouble for you? I feel like you’re just conveniently using me.”
“Huh? I wouldn’t ask if you weren’t my friend. I couldn’t ask someone I didn’t care about to do something important,” Yuigahama stated nonchalantly, as if it were completely obvious.
Oh-ho, so that’s how it works… I’ve been manipulated into doing cleaning duty before by the phrase we’re friends, right? so I hadn’t gotten that impression at all. I see… So me and those guys had actually been proper friends. Yeah, no way.
Yukinoshita must have felt precisely as I did on that point. She gently pressed a hand to her lips and pondered silently. Her doubts were reasonable. I wouldn’t have taken that so easily, either. But Yui Yuigahama was a special case. I mean, she was an idiot.
“You know, I think she’s being serious. Because she’s an idiot.”
Yukinoshita softened in reaction to my remark. She smiled her usual unyielding smile and brushed off the hair falling over her shoulders. “Do not underestimate me. It may surprise you to hear this, but believe I’m a good judge of character. There’s no way someone who can be nice to the two of us could be a bad person.”
“That reason is too sad,” I remarked.
“But it’s the truth.”
Indeed it was.
“I don’t mind playing tennis, but…could you wait for a moment?” she asked, moving over to Totsuka. “You can at least treat your wounds yourself, right?”
Totsuka took the first aid kit being offered to him with a confused expression. “Huh? Oh yeah…”
“Yukinon, you went all the way to get that… You really are nice after all, huh?”
“Perhaps. It seems that a certain boy is secretly calling me the ice queen, though.”
“H-how did you know that?! Ah! No way, did you read my list of people I hate?!” Crap. That was a diary that contained every single insult I could possibly hurl at Yukinoshita.
“I’m shocked. You really call me that? Well, not that I care what anyone thinks of me,” she said, turning in our direction. But her demeanor wasn’t her usual calm one, and it had a slight bewildered tinge to it. At first, her voice sounded strong, but it grew quieter until finally she averted her eyes. “So…I don’t really…mind if you…think of me as a…friend.”
Yukinoshita’s cheeks went so red that you could hear the sound of her blush. She held the racket she’d received from Yuigahama and stood with her head downcast, glancing at the other girl. Her unbelievable display of cuteness earned her a sudden embrace.
From Yuigahama.
“Yukinon!”
“Hey…could you not cling to me like that? It’s stifling…”
Huh? This isn’t the part where I’m supposed to come in, then? She’s always getting blushy around Yuigahama, isn’t she? Is that how it is? Is this a guy-guy girl-girl rom-com or what? Are all the gods of romantic comedy total idiots?
She somehow pried off Yuigahama and then cleared her throat before speaking. “I’m extremely reluctant to play doubles with that boy, though. But I have no choice, do I? I shall accept your request. I just have to win this match, correct?”
“Yeah! Well, Hikki can’t win with me as a partner, so.”
“Sorry for causing you trouble.” I bowed my head, and Yukinoshita glared at me frigidly.
“Don’t get the wrong idea. It’s not like I’m doing this for you.”
“Ha-ha-ha! Again with the tsundere lines!” Oh man. Geez. Ha-ha-ha-ha! No, no, you didn’t hear those types of clichés anymore, you know?
“Tsundere? That sounds like quite the repulsive piece of vocabulary.”
Of course. There was no way Yukinoshita would know what a tsundere is.
But most importantly, she never lied. The things she said might be incredibly cruel, but they were always true. So she honestly wasn’t doing it for me.
That doesn’t necessarily mean that she didn’t like me, so I was okay with that. Yep.
“Anyway, show me that list of yours later. I’ll correct it for you.” She burst into an absolutely brilliant smile, like a flower blooming.
I wonder why that smile didn’t warm my heart even the slightest bit. I was terrified. I felt as if there were a tiger right in front of me. And if there was a tiger in front of me, then… Of course, you know how the saying goes. There was a wolf behind me. Or a horse.
“Yukinoshita, was it? Sorry, but I can’t go easy on you. You seem like a delicate girl, so, like, if you don’t wanna get hurt, you should back out, mmkay?” I turned to see Miura with her curls spinning around even tighter, a bold smile on her face. Oh, you idiot, Miura. Provoking Yukinoshita is a death flag…
“Relax. I’ll be the one going easy on you. I’ll reduce that cheap pride of yours to dust,” Yukinoshita said, an invincible smile on her face. At the very least, she seemed invincible to me. Yukinoshita was someone you really didn’t want to make your enemy, but it was reassuring to have her as an ally. That was why I was so astonished to see someone make an enemy of her. Hayama and Miura were ready to square off with us.
The fierce smile on Yukinoshita’s face was so cold and beautiful it forced you to snap to rigid attention.
“You’ve harassed my friend…” Yukinoshita stopped there, blushing very slightly. Saying that word out loud had to be pretty embarrassing. She silently shook her head and began again. “…No, my fellow club member. Are you ready to face the consequences? Just so you know, though I may not look it, I’m quite a vindictive person.”
No, you look very much like a vindictive person.
Somehow or other, all the players had assembled for the tennis match, and we were entering the real-deal final phase at last. The Hayama-Miura pair made the first move. First serve went to Madame Butterfly, aka Sausage Curls, aka Miura. “Like, I dunno if you know this, Yukinoshita, but I’m real good at tennis,” she bragged as she dribbled the ball like a basketball, bouncing it off the ground, catching it, and bouncing it again.
With her eyes alone, Yukinoshita indicated that Miura should continue.
Miura smiled. It was a completely different expression from the one Yukinoshita had displayed. It was the aggressive leer of a beast. “Sorry if I scrape your face or anything.”
Whoa, scary. This was the first time I’d ever heard anyone give advance notice that their volleys would be physically dangerous. The moment that thought crossed my mind, I heard a sharp whooshing sound cut through the air, followed by the light bounce of a ball. The strike whizzed at high speed toward Yukinoshita’s left side. Yukinoshita was right-handed, so the ball was out of her reach, plunging just barely in-bounds by the left-hand line.
“Not good enough.” By the time I heard her murmur, she was already in position for a counterattack. She took a step with her left foot and spun on that axle as if she were dancing a waltz, connecting with the ball with a right-handed backhand. It all came in a single flash, as if she were drawing a blade from its sheath and striking in one smooth motion.
Miura let out a tiny shriek as the ball bounced in her court and sprung up again at her feet. It was an eye-opening, ultra-high-speed hit that was impossible to return.
“I’m sure you didn’t know, but I’m quite good at tennis myself.” Thrusting out her racket, Yukinoshita stabbed the other girl with the sort of frosty glare you’d use on a louse.
Miura took a step back, regarding Yukinoshita with fear and animosity. Her lips twisted slightly, and she spat out a curse. Yukinoshita was fearsome indeed to extricate that kind of expression from the queenly Miura.
“Nice one.”
That look from Miura was a bluff, and Yukinoshita completely ignored it. To be precise, her focus was entirely fixated on the ball. “She had exactly the same look on her face as the girls in my class who used to harass me. It’s painfully simple to read lowlifes like them.” Yukinoshita smiled proudly and then began her attack.
Even her defense was an attack. I’m not talking about that tired cliché of the best defense is a good offense. Her defense actually doubled as an offense. When a serve approached, it was unfailingly thrust back into our opponents’ court, and when hits were returned to her, she would force them back without flinching.
The audience was enthralled by her flawless performance.
“Aha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Our army is unstoppable! Mow them down!” Apparently, he’d sensed victory in the air, because Zaimokuza had returned at some point and was trying to hitch his wagon to the winning team. It was infuriating. But the fact that he was with us also meant that the tide had turned. When it had been Yuigahama and me playing, we’d totally been treated like the away team, but gradually, the audience had begun favoring Yukinoshita. Or rather, a lot of the guys were shooting Yukinoshita heated glances.
Yukinoshita was in a separate curriculum, so most people didn’t know what she was really like, and of course, she was good-looking. She had a mysterious air about her, like that of an unattainable idol. It wasn’t that people were scared of her; it was more like there was just this taboo around talking to her.
You could say that Yuigahama was actually fairly courageous to break through that barrier. She was also quite the idiot. But she was straightforward, sincere, and honestly kind, and that had resonated with Yukinoshita. It was unlikely that anyone other than Yuigahama could have gotten Yukinoshita to come here. And because this was for brave Yuigahama’s sake, Yukinoshita was giving it all she had. If I’d been the one doing the asking, she probably wouldn’t have shown up.
The gap between our scores shrank before our eyes. Yukinoshita whirled freely about the court, almost fairylike in her movements. Her dancing footwork was the greatest show this stage had ever seen. A minor actor like myself just occasionally popped the ball back. Every time I touched it, I was on the receiving end of painful stares of No, not you!
Arousing the expectations of the spectators, it came again to be Yukinoshita’s turn to serve. She squeezed the ball and threw it high into the air. It seemed as though it would be sucked into the blue sky as it flew toward the center of the court. It was clearly far from Yukinoshita’s position. Everyone thought that she’d made a mistake.
Yukinoshita jumped.
She took a step forward with her right foot, threw out her left leg, and at last took off with both legs. Her pace was light and staccato. She fluttered splendidly in the air, like a falcon gliding calmly through the sky, and none who watched her were left unmoved. She was beautiful and fast. Onlookers forgot to blink as though the image of her were burned into their retinas.
There came a particularly loud slam, and then the ball bounced and dribbled to a roll. Neither I, the audience, Hayama, nor Miura could move.
“A-a jump serve…,” I stammered, utterly shocked. Yukinoshita’s crazy move had left my mouth gaping open, and I couldn’t shut it again. We’d been so far behind, but she had caught up basically on her own. Now we were two points in the lead. One more point, and victory would be ours. “You really are unbelievable. Just keep doing that, and we’ll end this in a snap,” I complimented in all sincerity.
Suddenly, Yukinoshita grimaced. “If I could, I would like to…but I cannot.”
I was about to ask, What? But then Hayama got into a serving stance.
Oh well. Yukinoshita would just make some flawless return, and we’d win anyway. I wasn’t being flippant about it; I just had absolute confidence in our victory and slid into a sloppy stance.
Hayama was already losing interest in the game, and this serve wasn’t as strong as his previous one. It was reasonably fast but still exceedingly average. It arced between Yukinoshita and me.
“Yukinoshita,” I called out, thinking to leave it to her, but she didn’t reply. Instead, I heard an exhausted plop, and the ball landed between us.
“Hikigaya. May I brag a bit?”
“What? And what was that just now?”
Apparently, she had no interest in hearing my reply. She sighed deeply and sat down right there on the court. “You know, I’ve always been good at everything, so I’ve never done anything for a very long time.”
“Where’s this coming from?”
“I had someone teach me tennis, once. I learned it in three days, and I beat my instructor. In most sports…no, not just sports; it’s the same in music, too—I can generally master it all within three days.”
“So you’re the opposite of a three-day quitter? And this really is just bragging. What’s your point?”
“The only thing I lack confidence in is my endurance.”
I heard a stupid-sounding splonk noise as the ball bounced past her. Too late to be discussing this now.
Because Yukinoshita could do anything, she never persisted, never kept on with anything, and she was fatally lacking in stamina. Looking back, when we were practicing during lunch hour, she had only watched.
Well, when you thought about it, maybe it was obvious. If you feel like you want to get better, you practice, and if you practice more, you gain that much more endurance. But if you can master anything from the start, you would never even practice in the first place, and naturally, you would never build up any staying power.
“Hey, don’t say that so loud,” I chided, glancing toward Hayama and Miura.
The beast queen smiled ferociously. “I heard all of it, you know,” she said in an aggressive tone as if venting all of her pent-up anger. At her side, Hayama chuckled.
The situation was dire. We had only been in the lead for the briefest instant, and all too quickly, they’d caught up and brought us to deuce. This was an amateur match with irregular rules. After deuce, victory would only come with a decisive two-point lead. I’d been relying on Yukinoshita, but now she was out of energy and listless. What’s more, the opposing team knew it. We were already fully aware that my serves wouldn’t work on them. The moment I tried, they’d casually return the ball, and it would all be over.
“Well, you came and stuck your nose in our business, but it’s over for real now, huh?”
I had no comeback for Miura’s provocation. Yukinoshita was silent, too. She actually seemed pretty tired and was starting to nod off. Who are you, Hiei?
Chuckling deep in her throat, Miura eyed us with snakelike contempt. Seriously, she’s got to be an anaconda of some kind.
Picking up on the sketchy vibe, Hayama intervened. “Well, we all did our best. Let’s not take this too seriously. We had fun, so why don’t we just call this a draw?”
“C’mon, Hayato, what’re you talking about? This is a match, so we’ve got to take it seriously and settle this.”
In other words, having beat us in the match, she would then formally steal the court from Totsuka. Still, the way she said settle this was actually scary… I wonder if she’s gonna do something to me… Man… I really can’t handle pain.
As I waffled, I heard the sound of someone clicking their tongue. “Could you be quiet for a moment?” Yukinoshita demanded, annoyed. Before Miura could speak, she quickly continued, “This boy will settle the match, so please be quiet and accept your loss.”
Everyone doubted their ears on hearing that. Of course, I did, too. Actually, I was the most surprised one there. All at once, all eyes were on me. It goes without saying, but none of them had ever noticed me before, and now that they were treating me like Why are you here? the value of my existence skyrocketed.
I met Zaimokuza’s gaze. Why are you giving me the thumbs-up?
I met Totsuka’s as well. Why do you look so hopeful?
I met Yuigahama’s gaze. Don’t cheer me on so loud. It’s embarrassing.
I met Yukinoshita’s ga—she looked away. Instead, she threw the ball at me. “Did you know? I may spit venom and abuse, but I’ve never once spat out a lie.” Because of the way the wind was blowing, I heard her voice loud and clear.
Oh, I know. The only liars here are them and me.
In a silence so deep it was unnatural, the only noise I could discern was that of the ball bouncing against the ground. In that unique air of tension, I buried my consciousness deeper and deeper within myself. I made myself believe I can do it, I can do it. No, I do believe in myself. I mean, there was no way I could lose.
My life here at school has been worthless, sad, difficult, and nothing but garbage, but I’ve survived it all on my own. I’ve gotten through a painful and pathetic young adulthood all by myself, so I could never lose to someone who has always lived with the support of the crowd.
Lunch hour was almost over. Any other day, I would have been in my spot across from the tennis court and to the side of the nurse’s office eating my lunch. I recalled the time when Yuigahama talked to me and the place where I first met Totsuka.
I listened. I couldn’t hear Miura’s mockery or the clamoring of the audience. Fwoo, it went. I could hear that noise. For the whole year, it was me, and probably only me, who had ever heard that sound.
That was when I served.
My hit was gentle and slow, like it was floating up. I saw Miura gleefully bounding forward. Hayama swiftly came in to support her. The audience looked disappointed. I could see in the corner of my vision Totsuka slowly closing his eyes. I overlooked Zaimokuza clenching his fist. My eyes met Yuigahama’s, and she seemed to be doing something like praying. And then my eyes reflected Yukinoshita’s victorious smile.
The ball swayed along on an unreliable, frail trajectory.
“Yesss!” Miura hissed just like a snake, positioning herself where the ball would come down.
When suddenly came a gust of wind.
Miura, you don’t know. You don’t know about the special wind that only blows here around Soubu High.
That breeze buffeted the ball along, blowing it wide. It strayed from Miura’s spot and hit the edge of the court. But Hayama was running toward it.
Hayama, you don’t know. That wind blows twice.
Only I knew. I’d spent my lunches there quietly, all alone, without ever talking to anyone, for a whole year. Only that wind knew about my lonely and tranquil time.
This was my very own magic strike.
The wind whooshed again, blowing the ball even after it bounced. The ball sailed to a corner of the court, landed with a tump, and rolled away.
Everyone fell silent and listened, their eyes opened wide.
“Oh yeah… I’ve heard something… They say there is a legendary technique used to control the wind… It is known as the heir of wind: Eulen Sylphide!” Zaimokuza exclaimed loudly, painfully awkward as usual.
Don’t name it. You’ve basically just ruined it.
“No way…,” Miura whispered in abject shock. That triggered a rustle of susurration among the audience, and before long, that rustle was turning into the phrase Eulen Sylphide, Eulen Sylphide. Hey, you’re not allowed to accept that name!
“You got us… That really was a magic strike.” Hayama faced me and smiled broadly. He regarded me as though we’d been friends for years.
Under the full brunt of his smile, still clenching the ball, I just stood there. I really didn’t know how to reply at times like these. “Hayama. Did you play baseball when you were little?”
“Yeah, a lot. Why do you ask?” Hayama seemed suspicious at my unexpected question, but he’d unfailingly answered. Maybe he really was a good guy after all.
“How many people did you play it with?”
“Huh? You need ten people to play baseball, don’t you?”
“Of course… But you know, I did it a lot alone.”
“Huh? What do you mean?” Hayama asked.
I’m sure you wouldn’t understand even if I explained.
It wasn’t just about this.
Do you get how hard it is to ride your bicycle to and from school like an idiot in the middle of hot summer days or winter days so cold if feels like your fingers might fall off? You guys lie, deceive, and distract yourselves from it all by chattering It’s so hot and It’s so cold and No way with your friends, but I endured that all on my own. There’s no way you could get it. You couldn’t get how scary it is every time there’s a test and you have no one to ask what’s on it; you just silently study and then face your results head-on. You all get together and compare answers and show each other your grades and call each other dunces and study freaks and run away from reality like that, but I’m always taking it straight in the face.
How do you like my awesome power?
Following my heart, I fell into a serving stance. I arched my upper body back like a bowstring and threw the ball high, gripping the handle of the racket in both hands and laying it against the back of my neck.
The blue sky. The departing spring. The arriving summer. I’d send all of that flying.
“YOUTH SUCKS!”
With all my might, I smacked the descending projectile with an uppercut.
The ball connected squarely with the frame of the racket, producing a thonk sound as it was sucked into the faded blue sky. The ball climbed and climbed until all you could see was a tiny speck, far in the distance, smaller than a grain of rice. That was probably the ball.
“Th-that’s…the airborne god of destruction, Meteor Strike!” Zaimokuza shouted, leaning forward. Seriously, why are you naming this stuff?
“Meteor Strike…,” every mouth recited. Seriously, why are you guys accepting this stuff?!
It wasn’t that big a deal. It was just a fly ball.
Let me explain. When I was of a tender age, I didn’t have any friends, so I developed the new sport of solo baseball. I would pitch the ball by myself, hit it by myself, and catch it by myself. I had to devise a way to continue the game for long periods of time, so I realized that I could have fun for the longest amount of time if I hit the ultimate maximum fly ball.
If I caught it, I was out, and if I missed and caught it after one bounce, it was a base hit. If I hit it really far, I treated it as a home run. The flaw in this game was if you got too invested in either the offensive or the defensive side, it became rather one-sided. Your mind needed to be as clear of thought as if you were playing rock-paper-scissors by yourself.
Good little boys and girls, don’t copy this: You should play baseball with your friends.
But this was the very symbol of my isolation: my ultimate weapon.
The ball fell from the empty sky, an iron hammer upon those youth-worshipping bastards.
“Wh-what’s that?” Still looking up at the sky, Miura was dumbfounded.
Hayama was the same, looking at the sky as if dazzled, but then his expression grew concerned. “Yumiko! Watch out!” he yelled to Miura, who was still standing stock-still in mute amazement. Of course, he may have known what was coming…but it was already too late.
The ball, meteoric though it may have been, gradually lost momentum, drawn downward by gravity, and the split instant those two forces were in balance, it hung in the air. When that balance was broken, the potential energy was converted into kinetic energy. The ball was in free fall. At the point of impact, it would explode.
SLAM! The ball detonated, blowing up a dense cloud of dust. Ending its long, long journey through the sky, it kicked up detritus and dirt, rising once more into the air.
Miura ran to try to hit it back, chasing after it uncertainly through the particulate debris. The ball wobbled toward the back of the court bordered by a chain-link fence.
Oh, watch out.
She collided with it. “Ngh!”
Hayama threw away his racket and ran to her with a leap.
Would he make it? Would he make it?! The pair disappeared from the audience’s view in the dust storm.
A moment of stillness. I heard the sound of someone gulping down their spit. It might actually have been my throat making that noise. Then the dust cleared, revealing them. Hayama had thrown his back against the fence, wrapping his arms around Miura to protect her from the impact. Blushing, Miura was shyly clutching him, curled up against his chest.
Instantaneously, the spectators erupted in loud cheers and ear-splitting applause. It was a full-on standing ovation.
Hayama patted Miura’s head as she nestled against his chest, and her face turned even redder.
The audience screamed and surrounded the pair. “HA-YA-TO! WOO! HA-YA-TO! WOO!”
Instead of a fanfare in their celebration, the bell signaling the end of lunch rang through the courtyard. At this rate, it felt like they would just kiss and the end credits would roll. Everyone was enveloped in the strange sense of accomplishment and the sort of despondency that you feel after watching a fun, epic movie or finishing a really good teen romantic comedy novel. Hoisting the pair of them high into the air, the crowd disappeared into the school.
FIN.
What the hell.
In the aftermath, we were the only ones left.
“I suppose this is what you call winning the battle and losing the war,” I heard Yukinoshita say, bored, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Don’t be stupid. Between us and them, it was never a contest in the first place.” The youth worshippers are always in the lead roles.
“Well, that’s true. That wouldn’t have happened with anyone but you, Hikki. Getting totally ignored even though you won—that’s majorly sad.”
“Hey. Yuigahama. You really need to watch what you say. You need to realize that honest opinions hurt more than malicious remarks,” I advised, giving her a reproachful look, but she didn’t look like she felt bad about it at all.
Well, nothing she was saying was untrue, so there was no reason for her to feel bad after all. People like Miura and Hayama totally wouldn’t have cared about something like this match or competition or whatever, anyway. They’d turn even this pathetic loss into a beautiful memory of their youths, and they’d hold on to that memory with religious zeal. It was awe-inspiring.
What the hell. Die in a fire, youth. Die in a fire.
“Gah, come on. What’s so great about Hayama? I’d be like that if I’d been born and raised differently.”
“Then you’d be a different person. Honestly, I do think your life could do with a reset, though.” Yukinoshita gazed at me coldly as she indirectly told me to go die.
“B-but, you know… Um, it’s sort of like it worked out because it was Hikki, um…it makes him seem sort of okay…,” Yuigahama mumbled, barely opening her mouth. I couldn’t hear her at all. Speak properly, come on. You’re acting like me when a clerk at a clothing store tries to talk to me.
But her comment did seem to have reached Yukinoshita, who smiled very slightly and quietly nodded. “Well, it seems there are occasions when people may be saved by your depressingly twisted methods. Unfortunately,” she added, eyes darting to one side. She was looking at Totsuka, who was walking slowly, nursing his scraped knee, as Zaimokuza followed him like a stalker.
“Hachiman, well done. I would expect nothing less of my partner. But the day may yet come when we must settle things between us…” For some reason, he got this faraway look in his eyes and started talking to himself, so I ignored him for the moment and spoke to Totsuka.
“Is your knee okay?”
“Yeah…”
Before I realized it, I was surrounded by just guys. I don’t know if it was because Zaimokuza had show up, but at some point, Yukinoshita and Yuigahama had disappeared. Hayama had gotten a James Bondian ending, complete with getting the girl, but for me, it was just guys. It was like an ending from the A-Team. Such injustice! Rom-coms are nothing but an urban legend.
“Hikigaya… Um, thanks.” Totsuka stood gazed at me. Then he averted his eyes coquettishly. Frankly, I thought about just embracing him right there and giving him a kiss, but you know, he’s a guy…
This rom-com scenario was all wrong, and Totsuka’s gender was wrong, too. Incidentally, Totsuka was also thanking the wrong person.
“I didn’t really do anything. If you’re going to thank anyone, thank them…” I glanced around for the girls, perusing the area. Then I spotted a pair of ponytails bobbing along near the tennis clubroom. So that’s where they were.
Thinking I’d offer them a word of thanks, I headed over. “Yukinoshi…oh.”
She was in the middle of changing.
The front of her blouse was open, and her pale lime-green bra was peeking out. Her panties were still underneath her skort, but that imbalance only emphasized how balanced the proportions of her slim body were.
“Wh…wh-wh-wh-wh—”
…what, I was thinking, I’m concentrating, shut up, what if I fail to remember this… And then for some reason, there was Yuigahama.
She was in the middle of changing.
Apparently, she was one of those people who started buttoning her shirt from the bottom, and it was open wide at her chest, her pink bra and cleavage peeking out. The skirt she grasped in one hand was being extended to Yukinoshita. Well, basically, she wasn’t wearing it. The thighs stretching out from pink panties that matched her top were slim and long, and her calves were covered in knee-high navy-blue socks.
“Just die, for real!” She took a full swing at my face with her racket, connecting with a thunk.
Of course. If you’re gonna have a teen rom-com, you need some of this. Not bad, god of rom-coms. Guh.
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