3
At some point, Iroha Isshiki started hanging around.
Three days later, the bustle of the three-day New Year’s holiday had completely evaporated.
Once work started, my parents, who been lying around before, immediately went back to their usual hectic lives, and Komachi finally got serious about exams.
That meant at home, me and Kamakura were left with nothing to do, spending our days in idleness and ease.
But the gentle passage of time doesn’t necessarily indicate peace of the heart. You get the most uneasy when you’re not doing anything. When you’re busy, you get so focused on what’s in front of you, distractions disappear. But when you have time to spare, you wind up thinking about your shiftless future. Which makes you depressed. Aghhh, I really don’t wanna go to school, and I don’t wanna get a job…
During the limited time of winter vacation in particular, it’s easy to let such thoughts have free rein.
That unfilled, unproductive time reminds you of the end that will eventually come. You can feel in your bones that this peace will not last long.
Seeing the end so clearly places such a heavy mental burden on you when you’re just aimlessly wasting away your time. I wonder if this is how a NEET feels when he suddenly notices his parents are getting old after he’s been sponging off them for so long… While patting the tummy fur of the cat inside the kotatsu, I pondered such thoughts.
But the truly strong are those who overcome such a burden. The true unemployed. They say I’m gonna get serious now for the first time only after being forced to the brink: the unemployed and light-novel authors. From the above, you can say that unemployed equals light-novel author. QED, proof complete. Or possibly Spiral: The Bonds of Reasoning.
I was absorbed in my own internal monologue, and before I knew it, it was the End of Vacation.
School was starting again that day.
But since my lifestyle rhythm had gone all out of whack, it was a flurried morning for me.
I washed my face and roughly smoothed down the wilder bits of my hair and looked in the mirror. The crisp morning air and the coldness of the water chased my sleepiness away.
Okay… I’ll make it through today, too.
The classroom after winter break was filled with commotion.
As everyone was greeting each other with “Long time no see” or “Happy New Year,” they seemed somehow restless. They probably had plenty of new things to talk about over the holidays. Everyone was chattering loudly, filled with more energy than usual. Maybe they were excited from the unique atmosphere of meeting each other after a break and the new year and the new semester.
But I don’t think that was the only reason.
It was probably partly because that morning in short homeroom, a piece of paper had been handed out.
Ignoring what the homeroom teacher was saying, I stared at that paper. On it was written Postsecondary selection questionnaire. They’d done this many times before, but this was apparently the last one of our second year. Our final decision to take arts or sciences in third year would be based on our answers.
This would make high school second-years aware that this time would come to an end, whether they liked it or not.
It was a new year, and there weren’t many days left to spend together with this class. Bit by bit, as the year passed, I felt like time was flowing faster. And I’m sure I wasn’t the only one.
A week passed into January, and there wasn’t much of the school year left. There were less than three months remaining to spend in this class.
Already, the big school events were over, and the schooltime after January tended to feel like a throwaway match. There were no goals to head toward and no events to bring people together. Accordingly, their attention was diverted to those around them with whom they were close, leading to this hubbub.
What’s more, in third year, you don’t come to school after January, in order to prepare for entrance exams. This would functionally be the last winter of our time in high school.
Unfilled, unproductive time will make you think about the end that will eventually come. We instinctively sensed that this gentle time would not go on much longer.
Even at the end of the school day, the excited atmosphere didn’t change.
The others in the class must not have gotten enough chatting done, as many still remained. Among those who stayed behind, the ones who stood out the most were the usual crew, with Hayato Hayama and Yumiko Miura in the middle of the group.
Tobe, Ooka, and Yamato were continuing to have their dumb conversations, while Hayama was seated by the window, leaning his cheek on his hand as he looked outside. Occasionally, he seemed to remember to make appropriate listening noises in response to their conversation, a slight smile on his face.
Beside them, Miura’s trio seemed to be having a different conversation.
As usual, the queen was twirling a lock of golden hair around her fingertip as she sank into the back of her chair. She was staring at the career path questionnaire she held in her other hand.
“What’re you gonna do, Yui?” she asked Yuigahama, who was sitting diagonally from her, with a wave of the paper.
“I think…I’m probably going for arts.”
“Huh. And you, Ebina?”
“Me too,” Ebina, who was sitting across from Miura, replied as she pushed up her glasses. What about you, Yumiko?”
“I’m…still thinking about it,” Miura answered, then flicked her gaze over to the side.
There was Hayama and his group.
Watching them, Miura paused in thought, then called out, “…Tobe, what about you?”
Suddenly having his name called, Tobe turned around and tilted his head like, What’s this about? But then he saw the paper in Miura’s hand. “Ohhh, the survey, huh?” said Tobe. “Well, I haven’t made up my mind yet, but I’m bad at memorization. So maybe I’ll go for sciences.”
“What?”
“Whoa, didn’t expect that.”
Miura tilted her head in extreme derision, while Yuigahama was surprised.
Well, that was quite unexpected. I really doubted Tobe was the type who could manage science subjects. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who thought that. Next to him, Ooka and Yamato also checked his sanity.
“Dude, sciences? Are you for real?”
“Calm down, man.”
Not even Tobe was immune to everyone ganging up on him. With a pout of his lips, he argued back. “I mean, I got no choice. There’s no way I can memorize all that English vocab.”
Come on, you need English for both arts and sciences…
Ooka and Yamato must have been relieved to discover Tobe hadn’t made this decision based on any deep consideration, as they slung their arms around his shoulders and whispered into his ear.
“Come do arts with us, eh? C’mon.”
“Getting science credit in university is hard.”
“Yeah, yeah, Yamato’s right. College is a cinch when you’re going for an arts degree. Let’s hang out tons, huh? School is your only shot at having a good time in life, so you’ve got to think about your future!”
It seemed that in making choices about their future, neither Ooka nor Yamato was going on to university to further their studies; instead, they considered secondary education a moratorium until they had to get a job. But, like, is this what they mean when they say Thinking about your future?
Often, once people of this type do get jobs, the default is to smugly start lecturing young people, like, I think I shoulda studied harder when I was in school, y’know?
Fwa-ha-ha! Those types deserve to suffer in their job hunting! They should go rush to climb Mount Fuji or go to India to discover themselves so they can have a story for interviews right before it becomes time to search for a job. Meanwhile, as for me, I have no intention of getting a job in the first place, so there is a possibility my soul is of a lower grade than theirs.
But against Tobe, their arguments are super effective!
“Ah, you got a point. Whoa, thanks, guys.”
Tobe was instantly sucked in. Tobe’s chances of future success have fainted! Or at least they’re fainter than before.
But it seemed even Tobe felt a little uneasy about the issue of his future, as he asked the others, “So what’re all you guys going for?”
“Me and Hina will probably be arts. And Yumiko’s still thinking,” said Yuigahama.
Tobe swished up the hair on the back of his neck, then glanced over to see how Ebina was looking. “For real? Maybe I’ll go for arts, too.”
“But they say sciences gives you the advantage with job searching, don’t they? I think the sciences are nice. Putting elements together…seeing what has chemistry…y’know?” Though Ebina started off sounding serious, by the end, her usual fujoshi leer was rearing its head.
“…Ah, ahhh, I gotcha,” said Tobe. “F-for sure, huh? Yeah, totally.”
Totally not. But though Tobe was a little weirded out, he was nodding along. It seemed Ebina’s defensive walls were strong, as usual.
What was different from usual was the way the others reacted. The one who would usually be smacking Ebina on the head now to put a halt to her madness was not functioning that day. Ebina must have found this strange, as her gaze jumped over to Miura.
Miura didn’t look like she was listening to their conversation—she was zoning out, staring at Hayama.
“…And you, Hayato?” she asked him, who had been silently watching the conversation from the side.
Hayama shrugged a little and smiled wryly. “I’ve…basically decided.”
“Hmm…” Though Miura’s reply sounded apathetic, her eyes never left him. Her face said she still wanted to ask something, despite her attempts to pretend she didn’t. But Hayama smiled, as if to say this conversation was over, and Miura couldn’t ask any further. The question went unsaid.
When the conversation between the two of them trailed off, Tobe cut between them. “Hey, you’re not gonna tell us which you picked, Hayato? I dunno what to pick anymore.”
“What are you asking me for? This is your life, so you have to really think about it. You don’t want to leave with regrets.”
Hayama was right.
I’m not going to spout any egocentric pseudo-kindness like You should decide your own life yourself. But if you base your answers on what someone else comes up with, you’re going to blame them when it goes south. You’ll get desperate to find the war criminal in your life. You’re the one who decided to go along with someone else’s decision, but you’ll feel resentful toward that person. If you’re making compromises like that and lying to yourself, you’re just insincere.
Tobe was like “Whaaa!” and “Yaaaagh!” and “Wahaaa!” at Hayato’s lecture, but he did seem convinced.
“Aw, guess I hafta think about it,” he grumbled, and the others nodded, too, and it seemed the subject was now over.
With nothing else to say on that shared subject, they went silent for a while.
Possibly in an attempt to be helpful, Ooka seemed to remember something and said to Hayama, “Oh yeah, so, Hayato, is it true you and Yukinoshita are dating?”
“What?”
Everyone there, Miura first on that list, dropped their jaws in shock. Mine, too, possibly. What the hell is Ooka saying? There’s no way that would be true, I think… Right? No, no way…
No one saw that one coming, and time stopped for everyone.
But time has begun to move again.
“WHAAAAAT?!”
Loudly shoving her chair back, Miura bounded to her feet.
The chatter in the classroom disappeared into an oppressive silence, and everyone in the class looked over to see what was going on.
With everyone’s eyes gathering on them, Hayama shot Ooka a piercing look. “Who said that? You can’t just go around telling people that.”
His voice was strained but sharp.
Taken aback by Hayama’s markedly different attitude, Ooka couldn’t say a thing. But Hayama’s eyes wouldn’t let him fall silent.
I’d seen a look like that on Hayama once before. I recall it was in late autumn, that time we’d been with Orimoto and her friend.
Overwhelmed by the unrelenting, intense flash of Hayama’s eyes, Ooka hesitantly answered his question. “Uh, who? It’s just a rumor… I heard someone saw you together in Chiba during winter vacation…,” he managed to reply.
Hayama expelled a tiny sigh, and then his eyes relaxed, and the corners of his mouth turned up. “Oh, is that it? Sorry to rain on the parade, but we were just together because of family business. And it obviously would never happen. Right, Tobe?” Addressing Tobe brightly, Hayama had his usual smile on as he lightly whacked Ooka on the shoulder.
“Uh…uh-huh, yeah! For sure!”
“Right?”
As Hayama gave a mildly self-deprecating smile, Ooka and Yamato both agreed.
“Y-yeah, duh! Man, I figured it wasn’t true, though.”
“Then don’t say it.” Hayama jokingly jabbed Ooka in the head. Their exchange was very typical of guys fooling around together. Ooka reacted dramatically to the head poke, and gradually, the atmosphere in the classroom relaxed, too.
Picking up his bag, Hayama stood. “We should get going to club. I’m going to go to the teacher’s room and submit my survey, then go.”
“Gotcha.”
“Then we might as well go, too.”
With everyone voicing their agreement, Tobe stood, and Ooka and Yamato followed. They casually waved at the girls and said “See ya” as they walked off.
As Hayama and the guys left, Miura watched in silence. She was biting her lip silently, her finger still with her long hair wrapped around it.
Yuigahama gently laid a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay! I was with them that day, too.”
“For serious?” Miura asked uneasily, and Yuigahama grinned at her.
“Yeah, I was going shopping that day, and then I ran into Yukinon and her sister, and Yukinon’s and Hayato’s families know one another, so they were doing New Year’s greetings stuff. And Yukinon was invited to that, too.”
That’s a terrible explanation… It’s like listening to a little kid tell a story…
Nodding along at her sloppy explanation, Ebina summarized. “Okay, so you’re saying that someone just happened to see them when they were meeting for family business, then that turned into a rumor, huh?”
“Yeah, I think.”
“Hayato and Yukinoshita are hard to ignore, so I think they tend to leave an impression.”
When the conversation reached that point, I stood from my seat and left the classroom.
The after-school bustle was in the hallways, too.
Winter vacation had just ended, and there was still kind of a sense of restlessness in the school. There were even students coming and going along the hallway to the special-use building, which was usually fairly empty.
“Did you hear? About Hayama.”
“Oh, that, huh? It sounds like maybe it’s real, right?”
I passed by some girls who were showcasing the freshly stocked rumor.
Most likely, as Ebina had said in the classroom, fragments of information had been gathered together, producing a trend toward speculation and jokes for people to entertain themselves with and spread to others.
Though it wasn’t like the subject had anything to do with me, every time I heard something, a shiver of discomfort creeped up on me. I wanted to cringe into myself.
I think the actual name for this discomfort was disgust toward a bunch of essentially randos casually rumormongering.
The most grating thing about this rumor was that malice wasn’t even necessarily involved.
It was just interesting. Because everyone is curious. Because it’s about two people who usually attract attention. So you can talk how you want about them. Nobody questions that explanation, so the topic becomes popular. They don’t care if it’s wrong; they won’t take the responsibility to ensure they aren’t spreading false information. And if it adversely affects someone, you can say It’s just a rumor and absolve yourself. Even though people will normally try to draw attention to themselves, they feel no reserve about saying they’re one of the many nameless common citizens when it serves their convenience.
It’s really disgusting. I’d much rather hear gossip about myself than this.
As I was reflecting, I heard a pattering of footsteps come following after me. Yuigahama was the only one who would walk in such a lively way. I slowed down a bit, and she quickly caught up.
Coming up by my side, Yuigahama gave me a whip with her bag. “Why’re you going without me?”
“Uh, you were kinda still talking…” And I don’t even remember ever promising to go with her in the first place… Well, back in December, I had promised to go with her to the clubroom. Apparently to her, that trend was still ongoing.
“Hey, so did you overhear what we were just talking about? About Yukinon and Hayato.”
“Well, when you’re that loud about it…” Not only were they a group that stood out, Miura had yelled, too… I figured everyone still in the classroom had seen that. “Well, the rumors are just rumors. It’d never happen.”
“I figured as much, too, but…” There, Yuigahama trailed off for a moment, but then she immediately lifted her head. “But I kinda thought maybe, one day, that might actually happen with Yukinon and Hayato.”
I tried imagining it, but I couldn’t quite bring it into focus. Of course, I couldn’t see that for Yukinoshita, but I also couldn’t imagine Hayama having a romantic relationship with a specific person.
And those thoughts on the matter rolled right out of me. “Honestly, I can’t imagine it…Yukinoshita dating someone.”
“…Why not?”
“Why not…?”
I couldn’t have her giving me that curious look. I mean, the reason was obvious.
“With Yukinoshita, I mean, can she even get along with someone…?” I said.
Yuigahama scrunched up her face. “Mgh. Ahhh, yeah, well, uh. That’s, um, well.”
“Right?”
“Hmm… Ah! No, no, no, that’s not what I wanted to ask! But I can’t argue that…” Yuigahama continued to groan, holding her head, but we’d already come to the dead end in the hallway. We were right in front of the clubroom.
Before putting my hand on the door, I cleared my throat, lowered my voice, and said, “Anyway, don’t talk about this in the clubroom.”
“Huh? Why not?”
“… ’Cause she’ll get mad.”
“…You’re right!”
As expected of someone who’s been hanging out with her for nearly a year. She could imagine what would get Yukinoshita mad. If Yukinoshita discovered that she was the subject of irresponsible rumors, she’d get pissed, no question.
Before entering the clubroom, we looked at each other and nodded, then opened the door for the first time in a long while.
The heat was already on inside the clubroom, and I sat down in my usual seat with a sigh of relief.
Placed on top of the desk in front of me was a whole small cake, divided into four equal slices, that had been cheerfully set out by Yuigahama.
“Happy birthday, Yukinon!”
“Happy b-day.”
“Happy birthday.”
Yukinoshita twisted around uncomfortably at the celebratory words from all of us. “Th-thanks… Um, perhaps there should be tea,” she said, then hopped out of her chair and began energetically preparing some.
As the sound of tableware clinking rang through the room, I heard an appreciative “Ohhh” from beside me. “So January third was your birthday, Yukinoshita? Oh, and by the way, mine is April sixteenth.” The speaker turned to me.
“I didn’t ask…” Why is she even here in the first place…?
She tilted her head cutely, making her golden hair sway. Underneath her slightly less-than-standard uniform was a cardigan with overlong sleeves, while in one small hand, she grasped a fork that was pressed against her lips hungrily.
Iroha Isshiki was in the Service Club room as if she belonged there.
She got a quarter of the cake, and she’d even accepted a paper cup with tea. Her adaptational ability is so high. Is she a member of Tokio? Bet she could survive on a desert island…
Isshiki sipped her tea, the slightly overlong sleeves of her cardigan stroking the paper cup in her hand. “Heyyy, invite me to go to the shrine with you, toooo.”
“Why would I have to invite you?” I snapped back. Like, how would I have even invited her anyway? Does she mean to communicate telepathically? Is that a special deal with no charge for the call? Or is it, like, a strategy to place herself in a superior psychological position by using this to make me ask her number? Too bad! I won’t fall for that! Hachiman knows that reading in too deep will be digging a grave for himself!
Or so I was thinking to myself, but it seemed Isshiki wasn’t actually thinking that deeply about it and was looking off in the other direction as she sighed. “I mean, you guys all went to the shrine together, right? Meaning, Hayama was there, too.”
“No, he wasn’t with us…”
“Oh, of course. So then it’s fine, actually,” Isshiki said, then turned away and cut the conversation off right there. Iroha ga Kill! Cut down in one neat stroke… The only ones I can think of who will end things so sharply are anime viewers or the hitokiri battousai.
Well, it’s not like I didn’t get Isshiki’s feelings. Miura’s trio had been there at the shrine, so I could understand the idea that maybe Hayama would be, too. What I couldn’t understand was why Isshiki was here in the clubroom.
“So why are you here?” I asked her.
“Huh? I mean, there’s nothing for the student council to do at this time of year.”
“I’m sure there’s plenty to do. Not like I know much about it. And, like, go to your club, then. You’re still their manager, aren’t you?” I said.
Isshiki gave my shoulder a little pat. “Come on; it’s fine, it’s fine! Oh yeah. I came to get the things I left here during Christmas.”
“You clearly only thought of that just now.” Wow, I hope she didn’t pull a muscle with that reach.
“Agh…,” Yukinoshita sighed, and beside her, Yuigahama had a strained smile.
Good grief, Irohasu… It was like a roomful of exasperated Charlie Browns, but Isshiki seemed totally unmoved by this. I feel like she’d make a really stable storefront decoration, you know, like one of those Keroyon frog statues they stand up in front of pharmacies.
Even Isshiki seemed to feel uncomfortable with everyone staring at her, as she evaded our looks by blowing on her not-very-hot-looking tea.
“Oh, that reminds me,” she abruptly said, looking over at Yukinoshita. Yukinoshita responded with a tilt of her head, and Isshiki smiled brightly and said the unthinkable.
“Yukinoshita, you’re dating Hayama?”
“Pardon?” Yukinoshita’s head tipped over even further until it was practically at a right angle.
Ah man, why does she just go calmly walking out onto a minefield like that…? What is with this hurt locker…? What’s more, she didn’t even give Yukinoshita a moment of warning. It reminds me of a great pitcher of years gone by who was known at his peak to throw blazing fastballs with no tells.
Thing is, this was Isshiki we’re talking about. I’m positive she was asking this with deliberate intent. I bet the reason she came to the clubroom in the first place was to find out if the rumors were true.
“Isshiki…,” Yukinoshita said to her, tone cold. Her mild smile seemed to be enveloped by a faint, aurora-like veil, but behind it were clear and crisp eyes, as if carved of ice from the North Pole.
Isshiki trembled before it. “Y-yes?!” she replied in a tiny voice, her body bent back to hide behind me.
Hey, don’t use me as a shield.
Yukinoshita’s discerning eyes shot through Isshiki as she came out from behind my shoulder. “…Of course not,” Yukinoshita said flatly.
Isshiki nod-nodded back at her. “O-of course not! Oh, I was thinking that there was no way, you know! But once you hear a rumor like that, you gotta know!”
“Rumors?” Yukinoshita pounced on that word, gaze shifting over to me and Yuigahama.
“Oh, well,” I said, “there are a few people sort of talking about it…”
“We were all together a little while ago, right? It seems like someone saw and got the wrong idea,” Yuigahama said.
Yukinoshita sighed deeply, clearly done with all of it. “I see. This is why they say awful people see awful things everywhere, hmm…?”
Well, to teenagers, there’s no topic as entertaining as who has a crush on whom. And if it’s about people who stand out as much as Hayama and Yukinoshita, you’ll get suspicions.
Isshiki had a crush on Hayama, so of course she’d come check if the rumors were true. I looked over to see Isshiki tilting her head pensively.
“Man, that could be trouble.”
“Yes, indeed,” Yukinoshita agreed. “Especially for us.”
“Oh, no, that’s not what I mean,” Isshiki corrected her, sounding a bit hesitant, making Yukinoshita tilt her head.
“What do you mean?” Yukinoshita asked.
Isshiki stuck up a finger. “There’s never been any rumors about Hayama before that were this specific, weirdly enough.”
“Oh, you’re right…” This must have struck a chord in Yuigahama’s memory, as she looked up at the ceiling as she answered that.
Now that she mentions it, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything before about Hayama being involved romantically with anyone. Oh well. Not that I would have heard about any romances to begin with. No one would ever tell me about that stuff… This was something I could only have suspicions about, just as Yukinoshita had said earlier. About the only other thing I could do is consult a Ouija board.
“Seems to me all the girls are pretty interested in that rumor.” Isshiki folded her arms and hmm’d.
The heretofore single and unattached Hayato Hayama was dating someone—of course, this was Hayama. That should have come as no surprise. The girls with crushes on him must have had some latent anxieties about it, too, so these rumors had made those anxieties suddenly manifest. How could that change the relationships that surrounded him?
“…Rumors, hmm. How unfortunate,” Yukinoshita muttered. The remark didn’t seem to be directed at anyone, as ripples spread just slightly in the cup under her gaze.
“Well, look!” said Yuigahama. “I think if you ignore them, they’ll go away soon enough! They say rumors last forty-nine days, right?”
“It’s seventy-five,” I corrected her. Did someone die? Has there been a funeral service recently?
“Anyway! Let’s just not pay attention to them,” Yuigahama said, attempting to make Yukinoshita feel better.
It was true that all we could do now was keep our mouths shut. There’s no use arguing against people who spread rumors based on lies and half-truths for their own entertainment. You have no choice but to hunker down and tighten up like a clam. Before malicious misunderstandings and the tides of amusement, the only countermeasure is silence.
If you freak out and start yelling back, people will eagerly nitpick what you say. Their only goal is entertainment, so they can use anything as material for attack. What’s more, if you defend the person getting bashed, then this time, you’ll be the one getting slapped with damage. Like rock-paper-scissors, no matter what move you play, you’re going to wind up the only one losing. You might get called out if you do nothing, but doing nothing will still get you the least damage.
It seemed Yukinoshita understood this, as she gave a small nod. “…All right.”
“Then moving on… Back to work again!” Yuigahama said with cheer, and in response, Yukinoshita smiled and pulled out the laptop.
Back to work… Not what I like to hear.
No matter how much I didn’t like it, I had to work. In fact, it’s not wanting to do it that makes it work. And what I didn’t like was checking the first work e-mails of the new year.
To start checking the long-unattended Chiba Prefecture–Wide Advice E-mail, Yukinoshita pulled out the dust-covered laptop from the corner of the room.
This laptop, which Miss Hiratsuka had procured from somewhere or other, was an old model that took some time to boot up.
While we were waiting for it, Yukinoshita started rummaging around in her bag. Then she cheerfully pulled out a glasses case and slipped on the lenses inside without a word.
Her gaze met mine, and I automatically faked a yawn and looked away. In the corner of my eye, I could see Yukinoshita lowering her face.
“Oh, those look great on you, Yukinon!” said Yuigahama.
“D-do they?” With a touch on the frames, Yukinoshita glanced over at me.
“…Well, I guess.” It was really awkward to see the present I’d given her being used in front of me, so that was all I could manage.
“…Thank you,” she replied quietly, then turned away as if disinterested. I nodded back without a word, taking a sip of my tea instead.
Isshiki watched this scene curiously. “Did you always wear glasses, Yukinoshita?”
“…They’re a blue-light filter,” Yukinoshita mumbled somewhat reluctantly, never looking away from the computer screen.
But Isshiki didn’t actually care; she just stroked her paper cup as she carelessly said, “Uh-huh.”
Wow, she really doesn’t give a damn…
But right now, I was grateful for that disinterest.
If that discussion were to go any further, then I would have started squirming in actual mortified agony. My leg was already bouncing, and I couldn’t look at anything for longer than half a second.
When I adjusted the position of my chair, feeling strangely antsy, Yuigahama muttered, “Maybe I’ll try wearing glasses like that, too…”
“Uh, you never look at the computer, though,” I said.
Yuigahama huffed at me with indignation. “Yeah, but…no, wait; yes, I do! I look at the computer tons! Yukinon, show me, too!” With a scrape of her chair, Yuigahama moved up beside Yukinoshita to peer at the computer. “Oh, we got an e-mail.”
“Yes, I think it’s from Miura,” Yukinoshita said and spun the computer around to face me.
Request for advice from alias yumiko :
How do you guys make the choice for arts or sciences?
Ahhh. It’s true; this looks like a message from Miura. I remember she sent one before with a username like this.
Perhaps because the screen was pointed at me, Isshiki also came circling around behind me, cake plate in hand, to get a better look. “Hmm, this is about course streams? Which is actually better?” she asked, touching her fork to her mouth as she munched the cake and looked at the ceiling.
This was a question any high school student thinking about university entrance exams would consider once. It seemed Isshiki was no exception.
“Well, if we’re just talking purely about entrance exams, arts is way easier, although private and public are totally different. For national public universities, you have to study seven subjects, but for arts and humanities, you’re fine with just English, Japanese, and social studies.” I offered my personal opinion.
Isshiki shifted a step away from me. “…Eugh. Wait, do you actually get decent grades?”
“What do you mean, actually…? …Huh? Did you just say ‘eugh’? Just what do you take me for…”
Isshiki gave me a radiant grin, as if this were the greatest thing ever. “Oh, I can’t say that… Look, I’m bad at insulting people, okay?”
I don’t care, and that was basically an insult… What is with this girl…? I thought as I eyed her.
Isshiki looked back at me like she was impressed. “I knew you were probably kinda smart, but I didn’t know you actually got good grades and stuff.”
Hmm, is that what it is, Iroha-chan? You just can’t stand the idea that I’m smart? Your choice of words sounds a little stubborn, you know?
“Yeah! That’s right, Hikki gets good grades in the humanities.” Yuigahama clapped her hands in agreement, puffing out her chest with a smug hmph.
Why are you proud of that…? And please don’t just emphasize humanities.
Yukinoshita, beside her, swished her hair off her shoulders and smiled boldly. “It’s true; he does get fairly decent grades. But he can’t get the number one spot.”
Why are you proud of that…? No, that makes sense. Her grades are ranked above mine…
Isshiki listened to our exchange, nodding. “So then that means you’re going for arts?”
“Yeah,” I answered, and Isshiki once again answered with that completely uninvested uh-huh. So…don’t ask?
And then, as if getting to the real issue at hand here, she cleared her throat. “…So has Hayama already made up his mind?”
“Ahhh, it looks like Hayato’s already decided,” Yuigahama said as she thought back.
That got Isshiki going. “Huh? Wait—wait—wait for real? Which one?! I need to know—for reference, I mean. Just to know. For the future.”
“Hmm, I don’t quite know what he wrote… Just that he’s already submitted his course stream survey…”
“Ohhh, I see.” Isshiki’s shoulders dropped in visible dejection.
Yuigahama must have felt bad for her. “Oh, but if it’s for reference, I know about Tobecchi!” she offered.
“No, I don’t care about Tobe.”
“That was fast!!”
Reference for what…? I was thinking, exasperated, when Yukinoshita gave the computer screen a dubious look, letting out a short sigh.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing. I was just a little surprised to hear Miura worries about anything.”
“That’s pretty mean… I mean, even with her personality. She may think she’s the queen, but even a queen’s got problems.”
“You’re being even meaner… And I didn’t mean it in that way.” Putting a finger to her temple, Yukinoshita sighed in exasperation and continued, “I was just surprised that someone like her would have trouble choosing. She always seems so decisive. Even Tobe has decided on a course stream…”
Was that last remark necessary…? It’s kind of like he got in a car accident that wasn’t his fault… I smirked, and Yuigahama smiled back awkwardly.
“Ah-ha-ha…even Yumiko will worry about that stuff. I mean, it’s your future education.”
“Why is that so hard, though?” I said. If there’s something you want to do, then make a selection that aligns with that. If there’s nothing in particular you want, then just go to university. Isn’t that how most high school students out there think?
The decision between arts and sciences is at most just related to subjects on the entrance exam or selecting a target university. I’m sure some people might consider university-level credit, or the difficulty of getting a certain qualification, or advantages and disadvantages when job hunting, but basically, if you think about it and knock out what you don’t want to do, the answer will come out on its own.
It’s not that easy for people to find what they want to do, but they can instantly tell you what they don’t.
Yuigahama responded to my statement with a dubious look. “Hmm, that’s not what I mean… Look, everyone is gonna wind up in different places, right? Thinking about all that makes it hard to decide.”
“Well, I guess… But that’s just how it is.” I think it’s taken for granted that somewhere, sometime, the end will come. And that’s even more obvious with high school, which only lasts so many years. I understand that our paths beyond that would branch off in different directions.
So that was all I could say.
Yuigahama’s shoulders slumped a bit. “Yeah, that’s true, but… I dunno, it’s like, the things we’re doing and the places we’re aiming for are all different… And when we’re split into arts and sciences, we can’t be in the same classes…”
“If that’s your point, then I’ve been in a separate class this whole time. I’m in a completely different program…,” Yukinoshita said quietly, face turned away. It was hard to tell, but it looked like she was sulking. The International Curriculum, which Yukinoshita was in, was different from our regular curriculum. There was only one class to begin with, so they’d be together for all three years.
“S-sorry, Yukinon! That’s not what I meant to say… I—I don’t really get what I’m saying anymore, but it’s totally okay even if we’re in different classes!” Yuigahama grabbed on to Yukinoshita and clung. Hmm. How beautiful it is to have good friends. Gahama and Yukinon really are besties!
Suspicious, Isshiki suddenly looked up. “Ohhh, I get it.”
“What?” I asked.
Isshiki gave an elated chuckle and pointed to the laptop. “The one who sent this is Miura, right? So isn’t Hayama’s course stream what she wants to know? The classes for next year will be decided based on that, after all.”
Oh-ho, so such a brief e-mail contained such complex intentions. Translating sentences from girlese is so difficult. If this were a mandatory course, you’d get people dropping the credit one after another. And yet when you translate sentences of boyese into Japanese, just about all of it means “I want to get girls.” It’s incredibly easy to understand.
Thanks to our girlese interpreter, Iroha Isshiki, I now knew what the e-mail meant, but there was still one thing here that didn’t make sense to me.
“But would Miura beat around the bush like that? I know you might, Isshiki.”
“Come on, what kind of person do you think I am…?” Isshiki seemed miffed.
Uh, you literally just used me as a dupe so you could ask about Hayama’s course stream choice, though…
But I guess another girl would get more out of what she was saying, as Yuigahama fell into thought with a hmm. By the way, she still had her arms around our dear Miss Yukinoshita, who was totally at her mercy. “I see… In the classroom before, she seemed worried about it, so maybe you’re right… Yumiko can be pretty girlish, you know…”
“Yep! See! Like me?” Isshiki nodded and looked for agreement from me.
Hmm… Girlish isn’t a word I would use for Miura or Isshiki, though… Miura in particular is less girlish and more like the leader of a gang of juvenile delinquents, one in Yokohama. Maybe because of her name?
But she was right. Miura had brought up the subject of course streams with the others after class. Yuigahama and Ebina were one thing, but I doubted Miura was interested in what Tobe picked. I mean, I sure wasn’t.
So just as Isshiki had used me as a pretext to ask what Hayama was picking, Miura must have decided to do something similar to get information out of the one she really wanted to know about. But Hayama had refused for a truly Hayama-like reason…
And then she’d sent this e-mail to investigate the matter—and that’s the story.
Just as Isshiki had said, if Miura wanted to be in the same class as Hayama the following year as well, then she’d have to choose the same course stream as him.
In previous years, the third-years had been made up into six classes, typically with three arts/humanities courses and three of science. Even choosing the same stream, it was up to luck if you’d be in the same classes, but still, if you chose a different stream, your chances were zilch.
On top of that, the arts and sciences classes were on different floors. Classes in the arts were on the second floor, and the science classes were on the first.
If you were farther away from each other, there would be fewer opportunities to spend time together. To a young maiden in love, this would be a matter of life and death.
“But then shouldn’t she ask him herself?” Yukinoshita asked as she firmly pried Yuigahama off her. Even in winter, staying so long in someone’s embrace would be stifling. The way Yukinoshita pushed away her arms reminded me of a cat that was sick of being held.
“The subject did come up when we were together in the classroom, but Hayato said, You should think about it for yourself, and wouldn’t say…”
“Wasn’t that juuust because everyone was there? She should just go for it when they’re alone together. Like, she could catch his eye that way, too,” Isshiki explained, wiggling her finger around in a small gesture.
“It’s not that easy.” Sorry, Isshiki, but I’m sure it’s not that simple.
There are a lot of things you can’t just ask, even if you think you’re close.
The future, the present, the past—you don’t know where land mines might be buried.
What if you ask anyway, and you get an answer you didn’t want to hear? I bet sometimes just thinking about that will make the words stick in your throat.
When I sank into thought, Yukinoshita opened her mouth. “So what do we do about this request?”
“Well, we can just say we’ll do it,” I said. I really didn’t want to interfere in other people’s relationships, but this seemed like nothing more than support. Besides, if Hayama and Miura’s relationship went back to normal operations, that would probably get rid of these dumb rumors, too.
“Okay! I’ll try asking again tomorrow,” said Yuigahama.
“Yes, that might be a good idea,” said Yukinoshita. “Sorry, but can I ask you to handle it?”
“Yeah!” Yuigahama answered energetically but then immediately added, expression glum, “But I don’t know if he’ll tell me…”
Well, if he hadn’t been willing to tell Miura or Tobe and the guys in the classroom that day, then it was hard to imagine he’d tell Yuigahama. She would occupy the same category in his mind. Same for Isshiki.
Inferring from the way Hayama had spoken in the classroom, I think what he was worried about was that his influence would reduce options for the people he was close to.
Meaning someone from another category, someone who was not under his influence, would have to be the one to ask. There were a limited number of people who would qualify there.
I glanced over to Yukinoshita.
But she was tilting her head with a questioning look.
…Well, sending Yukinoshita to Hayama following the rise of those rumors would be a bad idea. The issue here wasn’t whether he would tell her or not but that it would cause some other problems.
Looks like there’s no one but me… But also, like, would my asking get us anywhere?
“Oh, well, guess I’ll ask…,” I said.
Yuigahama and Yukinoshita both looked at me with surprise.
“Huh? You, Hikki?”
“Will you be okay? Can you manage conversation?”
“That’s not really the question here… But you’re right that I don’t feel great about it.”
Still, we were both native speakers, as they say in English, so we should be able to manage conversation at least. Still, even if you can understand someone’s words, you won’t necessarily understand their heart. In fact, it’s because you sort of use the same words that you won’t be able to make the other person understand some things. Wait, maybe that’s the wrong English. That’s not native, that’s negative.
“But, well, we may have some chance,” I said.
“What do you mean?” asked Yukinoshita.
“If he can’t tell people who are close to him, then we have to try the opposite. I bet there’s some stuff he can tell me because we have nothing to do with each other.”
“…I see. Like a confessional or a shriving.”
“A shriving…” The word must have been unfamiliar to Yuigahama, as she opened her mouth vacantly and repeated the term.
Assuming we’ll explain that to Yuigahama later… Yukinoshita’s wording was a little dramatic, but it wasn’t off the mark.
There are a lot of behaviors in daily life that are like going to a confessional. There’s the middle-aged men who complain at the bar counter or at passing acquaintances at the izakaya, while some people will overshare on social media or forums to an unspecified number of people whose names and faces they don’t know. It’s the weakness of the relationship that enables you to talk to them. Well, in my case, it’s impossible for me to talk to people I don’t know, though I wouldn’t want to anway.
“Anyway, I’ll try asking. It won’t cost me anything to try.”
This is what corporate slaves call “pretending to be an idiot to ask something.” They say this skill is vital for newbie corporate slaves when you’ve overheard information, and your ability or inability to do this will greatly affect the way you do the job following that. Source: my dad, who was whining about new employees these days. Just thinking about having a superior like him kills any desire I might have to get a job. But I sense that I will acquire yet another useless corporate slave ability, regardless…
But there wasn’t any other way. For the moment, our only shot was me.
Having decided on a plan, Isshiki breathed a short sigh and stood. “Okay, then I’m going to get back! Thank you for the tea, and, Yui, once you know, please tell me, ’kay?” she said. Bobbing her head in a bow, she made to leave the room.
I called out after her. “Hey, your stuff.”
“Ah.” Spinning around in place, Isshiki went tee-hee to cover her embarrassment, then walked to pick up the cardboard boxes piled up in the corner of the clubroom.
“Hup, here we go.”
Carrying the cardboard boxes, Isshiki staggered around in an incredibly unsteady manner. Before I could second-guess myself, I reached out a hand to snatch a box from Isshiki’s arms. My big brother skills activated on auto thanks to the training from Komachi. You can’t remove this ability, can you…?
“Th-thank youuu! Soooo could I ask you to take that to the student council room?”
“Yeah…”
Well, I was stuck now. I turned back around at the door to tell Yukinoshita and Yuigahama I was about to go, but both of them were frozen there, staring at the cardboard box.
“…”
“…”
Huh? Why so quiet?
“…Then I’m gonna go carry this off,” I said. Yukinoshita reacted with a twitch, and without saying a word, she began swiftly cleaning up the dishes. Seriously, why aren’t you saying anything…?
Once she was mostly done, she and Yuigahama looked at each other. “…Let’s call this a day, then, as well,” Yukinoshita said.
“Y-yeah! Then let’s all carry the boxes together!” Yuigahama answered, her chair sliding back with a scrape as she stood. She grabbed her backpack, then started bouncing out of the clubroom. Yukinoshita also slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped out quietly.
Isshiki watched them, slightly confused. “Um… I don’t need that much help, though…”
“…I’m going to lock the door, so could you leave the room?” Yukinoshita prompted Isshiki with a cold smile, making her scurry out of the clubroom.
“R-right!”
The deserted hallway felt much colder than it actually was.
It was actually completely dark outside, and only the hallway of the special-use building appeared as a dim glow.
Watching the other three walk ahead of me, I adjusted my grip on the cardboard box.
It was packed with a jumble of colorful ornaments that we had used for the Christmas event.
Though the box’s contents were disorganized, the weight of it was certain in my arms.
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