7
Hayato Hayama always meets expectations.
Closing the book, I collapsed into the sofa.
When springs creaked faintly through the quiet living room, Kamakura perked up his ears from his comfortable spot on the kotatsu blanket. Komachi was at cram school, and our parents were coming home late as usual. Only me and the family cat were here in the chilly living room.
Lying on my back, the lights were overbright, so I turned my face toward the window. It was already dark outside, and the winter wind occasionally hit the glass.
It had been a few days since the career path consultation, but I still hadn’t been able to learn anything about Hayato Hayama’s choice. Even after asking multiple people about it, I’d gotten nothing. I’d allowed time to pass in vain, and now suddenly, the school marathon was looming the next day. The career path questionnaire was due the day after that. The deadline was the end of the month.
I pushed myself up off the sofa and squirmed my way into the kotatsu. Lying on the table was my completed career path questionnaire.
I’d already decided on my future.
I hadn’t even had to think about it to pick arts. For my target school, I’d written down private humanities and a decent university and faculty that were appropriate for my academic ability.
And as for on what basis I had decided my path, it was quite simply because I was good at arts subjects… I’m not good at science subjects, so I’d dropped that from square one. Fortunately—or maybe not—my own traits were clearly expressed in my grades, so I could decide on a course of action without worrying about it.
I didn’t have many options to begin with, so I was able to decide through process of elimination.
On the other hand, what about someone who has too many options?
For example, Yukino Yukinoshita.
How had she decided?
Though it was rather late to be asking that, I think I should have. Speaking purely in terms of her capabilities, she was the one closest to Hayato Hayama.
But I’d immediately written off the possibility that her choice might be of relevance. Not that there was any point in having that realization now. And if I thought about the reason why I’d done that, I’d be forced to confront an even thornier issue.
Right now, I should be thinking about Hayama’s choice between science and arts.
Just how had he made the decision? If I were to bring up every option Hayama had at his disposal, there would be too many to count. And there were no negative factors in his life that would allow me to knock things off via process of elimination, as I had with myself.
The more I talked to various people about it, the less of a lead I had.
Not only was he good in both types of subjects, the possibility of a sports recommendation had even been implied. When you’re that good, then AO entrance or designated school recommendations would also be on the table.
If I could know what his faculty of choice was, like Totsuka, then maybe I’d be able to calculate backward from that, but I was nowhere near a point where I could ask that. Or if Hayama believed himself to have such clearly terrible interpersonal skills as Zaimokuza, that would be something else, but that wouldn’t be an issue for Hayama.
It was close to impossible to narrow it down based on his performance at school, be it in his grades or behavior.
Meaning I should look at it from another angle.
For example, some family situation, like Kawasaki. She was making her decision based on how it would affect her family. On the other hand, with Hayama, his family increased his options and wouldn’t hold him back.
I couldn’t identify any concerns or weaknesses in Hayama. I shared Tobe’s opinion here. To borrow Ebina’s words, he was someone who would not slip up, would not hurt anyone, and would meet everyone’s expectations.
No matter who I asked, no matter whose mouth I got it from, all I could see around him were possibilities.
Is that just the essence of Hayato Hayama—the ability to do anything?
Everyone saw him the same way: a perfect superhuman who was kind, cool, outgoing, charming, smiling, smart, and athletic. A good guy.
Everyone?
Was that really true?
There was one person who definitely didn’t think so.
There was definitely one person who had said so to me in so many words.
…I’m not as good a person as you think I am.
If I was to believe those words, then Hayato Hayama was the one person who held doubts about the way he was. If anyone didn’t see him as a good person, it was him.
It makes me sick how everyone sings his praises. But it’s even worse that someone who meets those expectations exists. You know it’s sheer hypocrisy, vicious falsehood, arrogant self-satisfaction, and you do everything you have to anyway. It’s honestly so disgusting.
Someone once told me to stop sacrificing myself. Bullcrap. Doing it to meet other people’s expectations, to avoid hurting others—that’s self-sacrifice.
She’d said that he’s always been like that. That he’s the same as before.
If you have someone who’s never turned his back on what others want, with his parents first on the list—someone who’s always managed everything smoothly—what would he choose? Someone who’s carrying the weight of others’ expectations and trust and still lives up to it all—what sort of future would he aim for?
Agh, completely unbelievable.
If it were me, I’d crack. I’d want to throw away all the whole sham, to shatter it and ruin it. It’s such a hassle, working to satisfy people I couldn’t even know. I don’t want even a hair of validation from the nameless, faceless masses I don’t care for or know as friends or otherwise. I would reject all of it—expectations, admiration, all of it.
But I’m sure Hayato Hayama would not do that. He would stay as Hayato Hayama and keep from hurting any of them until the bitter, bitter end.
So many people took it for granted that they would get that clown act of goodwill and kindness from Hayato Hayama and force him to make that sacrifice. They swarmed around him, always seeking that kindness. They were arrogant. Unfortunately, Hayato Hayama was capable enough that he could give them what they wanted.
But there was one point that Hayama had stubbornly never yielded.
And that was the secret of his course stream choice.
Even though that would be meeting everyone’s expectations, too.
Why had Hayato Hayama refused to share it?
As I was lying there, I saw a bright room dimly reflected in the glass of the window. I couldn’t see beyond the transparent surface, and my eyes only lighted upon its blurry mirror image.
It was dark out, so my face reflected in the glass was dim. I looked unwell. I raised myself up, bringing my face close to the glass.
Sitting there, I remembered something that had happened before. Hayama had asked me what I would do if there were conflicting requests made of me. And to stop harassing him.
That time, both of us had ultimately avoided the issue and gave each other only vague answers. One of us putting off thinking about it for the moment, while the other offered a joke and a mild smile.
I think it’s the same. Though the process is different, the conclusion of not choosing is the one thing that’s the same.
So it was clear what Hayama’s answer would be.
I picked up the cell phone, which I’d tossed onto the kotatsu and left there. From the few contacts I had saved in it, I found the person I was looking for, stood up, and pressed the call button.
The call sound went on for a while.
Until they picked up on the other end, I wondered many times if I should hang up. I didn’t know if it was okay for me to make a request like this. What if I got on his nerves? What if he reacted with contempt?
But I hadn’t been able to come up with anything resembling an answer, so this really was the only option for me to pick.
Eventually, I heard a reserved voice through the phone speaker. “…Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me. Sorry for calling this late,” I said.
The person on the other end, Saika Totsuka, replied in a bouncy voice, “Oh, no, it’s totally fine. It’s unusual for you to call, so I was a little startled.”
Well, yeah. This was probably the first time I’d actually called. But what I was about to tell him now would probably surprise him more.
Sighing quietly, making sure Totsuka wouldn’t hear it, I bowed my head, though of course he wouldn’t see.
“…I want to ask you for something.”
The day after I called Totsuka was a bit windy, but the skies were cold and clear.
Boys and girls from first and second year were all streaming into the park, which was the starting point for the school marathon. From there, the boys’ course would go over the sidewalk along the ocean, then turn around at the big bridge and come back.
It was a long way to run, a hell of a long way, in fact. Widdle Hachi’s bad at math, so any number higher than three is soooo big!
But personally speaking, no matter how many kilometers it was, it didn’t change what I would do. When the order came, we began lazily lining up behind the white line that had been drawn at the starting point. Just like a hagfish, I slithered along, mingling with the group at the head. Surprisingly, everyone readily opened up the space for me. I wonder why—is it because I’m invisibeel after all?
It was just a school marathon. This was no big fancy event, and it wouldn’t affect our grades, either. I doubted many people would feel super-motivated when we were just getting forced to run out under the cold sky.
Except for one anyway.
Everyone expected Hayama to win, and he couldn’t disappoint them. He wouldn’t be allowed to blatantly slack off.
He was at the very front of the starting line, to my side, with a few people sandwiched in between us. It was sort of like pole position, so to speak. While he was stood there, bending and stretching, the girls were cheering and watching for the moment he set off. The girls were starting thirty minutes after the boys. Until then, they would be our adoring spectators.
Hayama answered the cheers with a casual wave. The girls squealed, but he was looking at someone a little ways away from them—Miura. She must have felt awkward with all the other girls around, as she was only glancing over at him now and then. Ebina and Yuigahama were beside her, and Yukinoshita was another step away.
Then Isshiki came ambling over, too. When she noticed Miura was there, she bowed. Miura gave her a little nod back. Isshiki looked between Miura and Hayama and chuckled boldly.
Then she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out loud, “Go, Hayamaaaa! …Oh, and you, too.”
Hayama waved back with a slightly strained smile, while Tobe, a little ways away, also replied with a cheerful and somewhat inexplicable “Yeah!”
“No, no, I don’t mean you, Tobe,” Isshiki said, waving a little hand to say no, no.
Miura watched in silence, but then she sucked in a big breath and blasted it all out in a yell. “H-Hayato… G-good luck!” Her call was quiet enough that the other cheers just about drowned it out.
But still, without a word, Hayama raised a hand with the same calm smile on his face.
Miura watched him, entranced, and then without making a sound, she slowly nodded.
Beside her, Isshiki watched the two of them with satisfaction, then turned back to me. “…Good luck to you, too!”
Guess she was talking to me this time.
O-okay… Why is she so stubborn about not saying my name…? Does she not remember it…? I was wondering when Yuigahama, who was zoning out watching, took just one step forward.
She waved her hands wide. “G-good luck!”
She must have been conscious of the people around her, as her call was fairly reserved compared with Isshiki’s, but it did reach my ears. …Phew, she didn’t call my name. She’s so thoughtful.
I vaguely raised a hand as thanks, and Yuigahama squeezed her hands into fists in response. Then my eyes locked with Yukinoshita’s, where she stood beside Yuigahama.
Yukinoshita gave a wordless nod. I thought maybe her lips moved just slightly, but I couldn’t hear her voice.
I don’t know what she said. I don’t know who she was speaking to, either.
But, well, it was still motivating.
Right then, guess I’ll do this…
I slid farther forward to stand at the very front of the starting line, like Hayama. He didn’t look at me, just staring straight ahead. I rotated my shoulders, stretched my Achilles tendons, then took one more step forward.
When I was all ready to go, I suddenly felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I saw Totsuka in his gym uniform. His thin legs were in constant motion as he shivered from the chill. But then he stood still and smiled at me. “Let’s do our best, Hachiman.”
“Yeah… I’m counting on you, Totsuka.” The starting line was so packed that my bow accidentally hit someone. But I did it anyway. I was pretty sure my request of him the other day wasn’t something good to ask for. I felt bad for making it.
But Totsuka raised his hands in loose fists in front of his chest and gave me a big nod with a burst of enthusiasm. “Yeah, leave it to me! I doubt anyone will appreciate it, but…,” Totsuka said, a little embarrassed as he checked up on the other kids. He looked over to the guys who were waiting behind him—the members of the tennis club.
“You can be subtle about it. As long as they’re aware, that’s enough. You don’t have to force yourselves,” I said, giving Totsuka’s shoulder a pat. Then I wondered if my hand was sweaty and yanked it away anxiously. Ah, damn, thinking about it did made me sweat, and now it’s even slimier…
That was close—almost remembered that time during the school field trip in elementary school when a teacher had forced me to hold hands with a girl, and my sweaty hands had caused her to hate me, and the whole class had called me Ickygaya… Damn it, I just remembered it.
Well, you weren’t gonna sweat that much during the winter. Even now, the cold wind blowing from the ocean was stinging my cheeks.
Then suddenly, the wind stopped.
“Oh-ho, Hachiman. There you are… Fngh, and Sir Totsuka is with you?”
“Oh, Zaimokuza,” Totsuka replied.
Carving his way through the crowds to pop out of nowhere was Zaimokuza. It seemed he’d made use of his large frame to act as a wind breaker for me. “Hachiman, let’s run together!”
“I don’t wanna… Oh, but there was something I wanted you to do for me, though.”
“Homm?” Zaimokuza tilted his head.
I didn’t want anyone else hearing, so I leaned slightly toward him. …It’s weirdly warm around him. Yuck.
When I whispered into his ear, Zaimokuza expelled a fshururu. “Hmunn… I do fathom what you would have me do. But I have no desire to do aught that’s tiring or attention getting…”
“…Yeah, of course.” My request for Zaimokuza was a lot to ask. Considering his athletic level and mental fragility, it wasn’t something he’d take on for me so easily. I mean, I think if someone asked me, I’d just say no.
I’d asked him because he was someone I could use like an old rag without even the slightest compunction, but even Zaimokuza was a person. Even if my heart wouldn’t hurt, his would.
“Ah, sorry. Don’t worry about it. Forget it,” I said.
But Zaimokuza squared his shoulders, folded his arms, and threw his head back in this cocky pose. “You may treat me to a bowl of extra-fatty ramen at Naritake.”
“You’re okay with that?” I asked.
Zaimokuza heaved a dramatic sigh as if he were throwing up his hands at me. “Good grief, Hachiman, I have no choice… To know what is righteous and fail to do it is cowardice, as they say.”
Why’s he got to say it in the most obnoxious way possible…? I couldn’t really say this when I’d just asked him a favor, but he really is obnoxious.
When I gave him a dull look, he quietly added so that no one would hear, “But I shall not do so openly! I shall not have people gossiping about me and posting vicious slander about me online! If I meet with blame, I’ll cough up your name immediately!” he declared, thrusting a finger in my face.
Seeing that, I couldn’t help but crack a wry smile. Good ol’ Zaimokuza! He really is trash! The coolest trash!
“Ah, that’s totally fine. Thanks. While I’m at it, I’ll add on some butter topping for you.”
“Heh, that will be the perfect caloric compensation.”
Uh, you can run the numbers all day, but you can’t burn Naritake-level calories from a marathon, though…
Thanking Totsuka and Zaimokuza once again, I looked over at Hayama, who was standing on the white line. He was chatting pleasantly with Tobe and the other nearby guys when he noticed my gaze and smiled softly at me in a silent question.
Shaking my head at him in reply, I fixed my eyes ahead. It was already about to start. Even without looking at the clock installed in the park, I knew that.
The voices of the boys crowding behind me gradually quieted. The sporadic cheers of passing girls also retreated.
Once everyone was silent, as if she had been waiting for that moment, someone came walking toward the white line drawn on the ground.
“Right. Are you ready?” said Miss Hiratsuka, pointing a pistol to the sky.
Why is she doing this…? This is normally a job for a gym teacher. Geez, she just wants to be the star of the show again, huh? Or does she just want to try firing the gun?
Miss Hiratsuka held the gun up high, while with her other hand, she covered her ear. When her finger covered the trigger, the boys faced forward, and the girls held their breaths and watched.
She paused a few seconds like that, then slowly began, “On your marks… Get set…”
An instant later, she pulled the trigger, and the sound of the gunshot rang out.
Then we all burst into motion.
I started running slowly at first, to get my legs warmed up. My goal for the time being was to keep up with Hayama. But most of the guys beside me were putting out top speed, as if it was the climax right from the beginning.
The reason for that was probably the flashes constantly going off then. I don’t know if it was for the graduation album or what, but there was a cameraman at the school marathon. And since the beginning was going to be in the photo, we had a jillion idiots taking the first few dozen meters at an all-out sprint. You know it’s just because they want to brag later. I was at first place up until the middle! Boys are so stupid.
Most of these guys were putting their lives into the starting line sprint, so they’d wear themselves out quickly. The real competition would be ahead, when we left the park area and came out onto the sidewalk.
Casually avoiding the starting line sprinters who were steadily dropping out, I called out to Zaimokuza, “Zaimokuza, you’re up.”
“Heh-heh, ngnu? …A-aye!” He was already looking slightly out of breath, but when I called out to him, he sped up. I say that, but Zaimokuza is Zaimokuza. It wasn’t that fast.
Hayama was ahead of me, and when we jumped out into the lead, Zaimokuza somehow clung to the spot behind us, wheezing fshururu all the while. We kept this up as we came to the end of the park area, where Hayama turned around the rock there to step out onto the sidewalk. I followed after him.
But even if Zaimokuza was running seriously, a few dozen meters was his limit. He gradually started falling back, and at the narrowest part of the way, the transition from the park to the sidewalk, his speed rapidly decreased. “Agh…no more…,” he cried, and his speed dropped to about a sluggish walk. Suddenly, the people behind him slowed down, and his large frame lumbering in front of them was clearly getting in their way.
Thanks to Zaimokuza, I’d managed to put some distance between us and the rest for now.
The problem was what came next.
No matter how large Zaimokuza was, he couldn’t completely block the way. Eventually, some would slip by him, pass him, and try to join the leading group.
While I was repeatedly turning back to check how things were going on behind us, Totsuka’s group of tennis club members came over. My eyes met with Totsuka’s over my shoulder. Then we nodded at each other.
The marathon’s course used regular sidewalks. Three people running abreast would completely block the way. So I had made a request of Totsuka—that while I was at the front, he and the tennis club would run bunched together. Of course, any blatant barriers would become a problem, so I was okay that they left enough space so that anyone who wanted could weave between them or slip by them to overtake them.
There was no need to completely block the road. The psychological effect was enough to make people hesitate to overtake them.
If you had some people who weren’t taking this marathon seriously, and there was a second-place group of people running at around the same speed right in front of them, then what would that first group do?
They probably wouldn’t overtake the second-place group. If there’s no need to get first place, if they could be satisfied with a decent place in the ranking, then they’d just join the second-place group. If things went well for them, they might try to take advantage of an opportunity.
And it worked like a dream. Once we came out onto the sidewalk, nobody followed close after the top group of me and Hayama. Maybe some people might come after us for the last stretch, but I didn’t care about that.
If I could create a situation where Hayama and I were running together right now, that would be enough.
I glared at Hayama’s back, running up ahead.
The stage was set for me. My plan was working so far.
From here on out, what began would by my game, and my game alone.
The wind blowing from the ocean froze my cheeks. When the heat overflowing from within me met the cold air, my skin tingled.
Every smack of my shoes on the asphalt sent an impact running to my core.
Was that roaring sound the wind or the sound of my own body creaking? I couldn’t quite tell. The sounds gradually blended together, turning to heat expelled from my mouth.
I heaved out a ragged breath and inhaled the sharp smell of the ocean salt.
Were the trees growing on the way by the ocean to prevent soil erosion? There had been a lot of pines at the starting line, but we were beyond that now. The barren trees around us stood out like white bones.
I moved my legs without pondering the trivial details in my head. It was like my heart focused on circulating my blood. My heartbeat and pace competed to see which was faster.
As I ran, thoughts sporadically rose in my mind and faded away, bubbling up only to vanish again.
It was a good thing I commuted to school by bicycle. If not for that, I would hardly have been able to run at all. I wasn’t in a sports club, after all. It’s not like I dislike endurance running itself. In fact, it’s the type of sport I’m better at, compared with things like ball sports. I think that’s because it’s something you can do entirely by yourself. You don’t cause trouble for anyone else, and there’s a clear goal established. All you have to do is zone out and let your mind chew on pointless thoughts while you mechanically move your legs.
But the marathon that day was a little different.
It was far more painful than usual.
I was going faster than when we did it in class. The chill was especially severe, and the wind made it even worse, too. And with so many thoughts in my head the night before, I was a little short on sleep.
There were all sorts of reasons.
But the biggest reason was that Hayato Hayama was right there in front of me.
Of course, he was accustomed to this from his club workouts, so he showed no signs of exhaustion as he continued to run smoothly. His upper body moved efficiently, and his lower body was stable—his form was polished. I could believe he’d won last year.
As for me, on the other hand, I could feel the increased blood flow to my head, and it was the most I could do to keep up with Hayama. I wasn’t even trying to pace myself.
But that would end soon.
Thus far, there had been no changes in the progress of the race. Hayama and I were still in the lead, while second place was taken up by a group clustered around Totsuka and the tennis club. They were doing a good job gathering people together into the second-place cluster and controlling the speed of those behind them. Or maybe, all the runners planned to make their dash at us in the latter half of the race. I’m sure there were more even farther behind them, but unfortunately, they were too far back to see from a glance over my shoulder.
Hayama continued to maintain a steady pace. Our initial sabotage seemed to have worked, as there was a pretty big distance between us and the rest. It didn’t seem the others would catch up so easily.
The problem was me.
We were only about halfway through the length of the race, but I was giving out. I’d had a stitch in my side for a while now, the soles of my feet stung, and my ears were numb. Frankly, it was bad enough I wanted to go home right now. If this had been right after lunch, I absolutely would have puked. I’d managed to run this far by making use of every trick in the book, but I had to make my move soon, or I wouldn’t be able to follow him anymore.
Running and staring at Hayama’s back the whole time, I suddenly felt something different below. A cold wind was coming up the legs of my shorts. Right then, we were approaching the bridge that was the turnaround point. Teachers would be lying in wait on the bridge to hand us ribbons to show we’d made it.
I just about sighed in relief that finally half of this was over, but I forced that down my throat and diverted the oxygen to my lungs instead.
I couldn’t lose focus yet.
I sped up a bit to catch up those few steps to Hayama ahead of me. My feet hit the ground even harder.
I really did have to speed up, or I wouldn’t be able to catch him. Alas, there was a clear difference between the power of his legs and mine. Running normally, I could never run alone alongside him.
This was why I had gotten help from Totsuka and Zaimokuza, then completely ignored pacing myself. I’d invested everything I had to get this far.
All of that had been for now, for this moment.
Heaving out breath after ragged breath, I somehow caught up to Hayama.
When I came up beside him, Hayama, who hadn’t turned around even once, looked at me for the first time. His eyes widened, and he seemed a little surprised. “I’m impressed you’re keeping up with me…,” he said without panting.
By contrast, I gasped out, “Well…you know. If I don’t…worry about pacing…it’s not impossible.”
Hayama tilted his head with a glance at me. By his expression, it seemed he wanted to say, Why would you do that?
I couldn’t help but laugh. My throat was parched, so it just made me choke. I waited for the coughing to subside, then slowly opened my mouth. “Nobody’s expecting me to hit the finish line anyway. I don’t care if I pull out halfway.”
In fact, never mind ranking, I wasn’t even thinking about completing the race. If I could just avoid getting in anyone’s way and run by Hayato Hayama around the switchback, then I didn’t care. I’d devoted everything to making it this far… But despite my efforts, it was the most I could do to stick behind Hayama when he had to be pacing himself normally. That fact was inducing some grade-A despair. It just about broke my spirit, but we were already past the switchback point at least.
How do people feel when they meet the switchback point of painful asceticism?
Do they despair that there’s still half left to go, or are they relieved to have already come halfway? With most people, it’ll be one of those. And either of those feelings will create a weakness in their hearts. They’ll become aware of just how tired they are. Source: me. Frankly, if I could’ve taken a break, like, Finally, half over! then the exhaustion would’ve hit me all at once. If I looked down and thought, There’s still half, then my legs would start feeling heavier.
That weakness, that tiredness, was my opportunity. When people are pressed, they’ll let their real feelings slip. Just like with my sister Komachi, Hayama will want to cough up what lurked at the bottom of his heart.
That was why I’d recklessly pushed myself this far.
I’m sure in a normal situation, he could turn aside whatever questions I had with his usual mild smile. So I had to get him with his guard down when he couldn’t avoid me.
But although Hayama was surprised by me coming up beside him, he once again drew his usual aura of calm around him. His expression was a little severe—he was still running, after all—but it didn’t seem to me like he was rattled. I’d still need another little push to shake his balance.
I had to shoot right through him with one remark. Right to his core.
I forced my panting to calm. My chest hurt, but I sucked it up and twisted the corners of my mouth to smile. “…Was Miura convenient for keeping girls away?” I said.
Hayama turned to me and fixed me with a sharp glare. Instead of swallowing his hostility, he let it spill out as a hot breath.
Ahhh, that’s it. That’s the kind of look I wanted to see.
After that wordless glance, he decided to commit to ignoring me, as he sped up a bit.
I dogged him desperately, calling after him again. “So? Was she useful?”
To be honest, I know Miura isn’t a bad person. Now that I’d gotten a glimpse at how incredibly honest her innermost feelings are, it hurt me a bit to say something like this.
He had to feel the same, hearing me say it.
“Shut up a minute,” Hayama said without looking at me, his voice oozing frustration. The force behind it was nothing like his usual calm, and it just about made me retreat.
But I made a conscious effort to take my feet forward. “I’m not gonna shut up just ’cause you said so… I’m not as good a person as you think I am.” Borrowing the words that a certain someone had said at some point, I showed him a mean smile.
Hayama looked at me like I was an idiot, then snorted. “You’re joking. I’ve never thought you were good.”
The remark was so cold, my running slowed just a bit. If I wasn’t careful, I would fall behind, so I faced sharply forward.
“You jerk…,” I grumbled without thinking.
A small, somewhat scornful smile rose on Hayama’s face. “I don’t want to hear that from you.”
Indeed. I almost laughed. But it was worth it, to get a different reaction from usual out of Hayama. This was the best possible timing.
Running, I evened my breath again so I could talk without gasping for air. I got right to the point. “Which course stream did you pick?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“I’ll guess. Sciences.”
Hayama breathed a short, exasperated sigh. “…There’s only two options. I’m obviously not going to answer.”
“Then I’ll put it another way,” I began, speeding up my pace just a bit. I made a conscious effort to lift my heavy thighs, coming out just a few steps ahead of Hayama. Then I turned my head to look back. “Make it sciences. I don’t care which you picked. I’m not really interested. But if you can still change it, then change it.”
“Huh?” Hayama made a very stupid-looking expression, rare for him, and for an instant, he pitched forward. He immediately compensated for it, coming up to run next to me again. “…That’s an interesting thing to say.” Maybe he was a little flustered; he was even panting a bit.
“You’re not giving me a choice. I had to know which you’d pick, but…you won’t tell me, and I couldn’t even begin to guess… So my only option is to make you change it to the answer I want.”
Hayato Hayama had too many options, and he couldn’t narrow them down. I should just shave some of those options down. By force even. If I could make the course stream choice for him, then I’d be able to complete our request from Miura.
“You’ve got this so ridiculously backward…” A humorless laugh slipped from his lips. Maybe he was shocked.
But of course, I had my reasons for saying this. “This is in your best interest. It’s the only answer that checks the boxes you need.”
“What boxes?” Hayama got a dubious look. Thanks to that, his pace let up a bit. I matched him.
“You told me to stop giving you trouble, right? Meaning you want to stop being the person everyone wants you to be.”
Hayama’s feet stopped right there. When I noticed that, I came to a halt, too.
I suddenly felt all the sweat that was pouring out of me. I probably hadn’t noticed it until now because of the wind blasting me from the front. With a swipe from my jersey sleeve, I turned to Hayama.
He was looking at me, stunned, and he sighed deeply. I doubt it was from the running. “What makes you think that?” He glanced over at me, as if prompting me, then started walking. I followed after him.
“No reason. I just thought that if it were me, I’d drop something. The standard tactic for making the choice is just to drop subjects you’re not good at and things you don’t want to do.”
If you’re speaking purely about entrance exams, your classes at school won’t influence much at Hayama’s academic level. Prep school would cover any bases that needed it. So the meaning behind his choice would not be based on entrance exams—either for preparation or to focus on a particular university he wanted to go to. So what had Hayato Hayama been dropping when he made that choice?
The remaining meaning was his life at school in third year and his social relationships.
“Frankly, the choice between arts and sciences isn’t much of a problem if you can just manage your entrance exams somehow. But you didn’t tell anyone what you picked. And by not saying, you meant to drop something, didn’t you?”
Hayama didn’t answer. He just continued to walk in silence. But I could tell his silence was prompting me to continue.
“There are fewer people in sciences, and there also aren’t many girls. You could put some distance between yourself and all the crap you have to deal with it. Plus, if you’re just choosing a different academic path, then everyone’ll accept you being away from them. If it all comes to a natural end, then nobody will be hurt, and you can avoid betraying anyone’s expectations.”
My throat was dry, so my voice cracked in several places, but I managed to put the words together and finish my speech. “This is the only way to fulfill the conditions that suit you.”
The dripping sweat must have bothered him, as he wiped it off by swiping back his hair and then looked toward the ocean. Then he quietly muttered, “I really wouldn’t have been able to be friends with you…”
“Huh?”
Right as I was about to question him, I heard quiet running steps from behind us. I turned around to see a bunch of people from the number two group getting close. It seemed they’d seen Hayama start walking and were taking this opportunity to go for it.
Hayama and I just watched them pass us by.
As we watched their backs grow distant, Hayama opened his mouth to say, “Oh…you’re really something.”
“What, so was I right? Is it sciences?”
“No. You really are twisted,” he said, shaking his head. If he was expressly declaring one answer was wrong when there were only two options, that meant the remaining one was correct.
But when I was about to say So then arts, Hayama’s soft and collected voice cut me off.
“I hate you.”
“O-okay…”
He said it so suddenly, without looking at me at all, I couldn’t say anything. I know I’m not exactly popular, but even I’ve never been told that so directly and breezily.
Hayama seemed completely unbothered by my reaction, still facing forward as he looked far into the distance and spoke dispassionately. “I feel like you’re far behind me, and I hate that so much. I want to be on even terms. So I want to raise you up; maybe it’s all that is. In order to affirm your loss.”
“…Oh.” I’m sure I felt the same way. I’d raised him up to a special status, forcing a lie on him in order to convince myself—that there was no doubting that Hayato Hayama was an absolutely good guy.
He must have actually heard my meaningless response this time, as he turned to face me. Then he smiled at me—it was charming but challenging. “So I won’t do what you tell me to.”
“I see.” I nodded, and Hayama did the same in response.
I think Hayato Hayama sincerely did not care about the course stream choice, and whichever he did pick, it wouldn’t be much difference to him.
So it was enough to hear this much now. This would resolve Miura’s request. It wasn’t like the problem had gone away, but what came after this was beyond my range.
“Let’s get going,” Hayama said, and then he started lightly jogging along.
You jerk, I can’t run at all anymore, I thought, but I somehow followed at Hayama’s heels.
There was one more thing I wanted to ask.
I forced up my dragging legs. Fortunately, thanks to that little break, I’d caught my breath a little. My heart was still kind of racing, but I took deep breaths to calm it. “…Are you choosing arts for family reasons? I mean, like for a family relationship sort of thing.”
“My family? Have I ever spoken to you about that?” This speed must have felt like a casual jog to Hayama, as his steps and voice were light now.
“Uh, well, I overheard…” As my body was chilled with sweat, an even colder sea breeze blew over me. The freezing coldness, the sticky discomfort, and the weird silence made me agitated.
Meanwhile, one more runner passed us by.
But Hayama must have lost interest in ranking now, as he looked at me with interest before losing himself in thought. And then he suddenly said, “Are you worried about that rumor?”
“Huh? No, it’s not that… Just, well, I mean, you know… Like.” I was at a loss as to how to explain.
Hayama laughed out loud. Despite running with such flawless form before, his upper body was shaking and rocking all over the place.
“…What’s so funny?” I asked.
He wiped his eyes almost deliberately. “No, sorry. If it’s about that, then don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s resolved.”
“Ahhh, it’ll help a lot. I can’t stand the tension in the clubroom.”
As we talked, I started hearing the panting of another student approaching us. I turned back once, then faced forward again. I figured there’d be quite a gap opening up between us and those who had passed us.
My feet were as heavy as if they had fishing weights tangled around them and wouldn’t quite move like I wanted them to. “They’ve gotten pretty far ahead… Guess I’ll take this slow. Sorry I kept you from scoring another victory,” I said, meaning that as a proposal.
But Hayama shook his head. He swung his arms at his sides as if lightly stretching them and grinned. “…No, I’ll win. That’s who I am.”
He was saying that winning, meeting everyone’s expectations, committing to playing Hayato Hayama to the very end was who he was.
He gradually upped the pace, and when he came out a few steps in front of my trudging run, he turned back. “And besides, I don’t want to lose to you.”
And with that parting remark, Hayato Hayama ran off.
He left me behind far, far in the distance.
I didn’t even have enough energy left to follow after him. It was all I could do just to watch him go. After coming up with the answer I couldn’t and dreaming of possibilities I couldn’t bring myself to believe in, Hayato Hayama grew distant.
Damn it, he’s actually cool.
Maybe he’s pretty competitive, too, I thought stupidly, just as my right foot collided into my left calf. My feet got tangled up, and I failed to catch myself and tumbled right there on the pavement. I rolled straight over onto my back and looked up above.
My white breath melted into the clear, bright, and blue winter sky.
In the end, whether I fell down or lay down had no effect on the marathon schedule, and it solemnly proceeded.
I fell, and then after lying on my back like that for a while, Totsuka helped me get up, but I really couldn’t cause any more trouble for him, so I had him go on without me, while I dragged my aching legs to somehow reach the goal alone.
Though I wasn’t in last place, during the final spurt, I was with the group at the tail end, putting in some desperate effort only before the finish line. The instant I crossed the finish line, I went, “I can be done now, right…?” as I checked all around. By the way, the only one to reply was Zaimokuza, who was running together with me at the end.
By the time I finished running, my knees were shaking like tambourines at karaoke. It was almost funny. Ha. Fun-knee.
When I flopped down to check how I was doing, I found I was a mess. I’d scraped open my knees and shins, my shorts were completely muddied, my butt was cramping, my side was stabbing me the whole time—maybe I should try to find what didn’t hurt. I’m already a pretty painful sight to begin with, so this was educational, letting people know that yes, I can be even more painful to look at (and that’s a painful joke).
If I hadn’t been encouraging myself along the way, like, You can do it. You can do it , I think my life points would have wound up at zero.
Of course, nobody would be waiting for me at the goal.
Just the apologetic crowd of one—the gym teacher—while everyone else had left for the park square. I went to peek over there while they were in the middle of the award event.
Generally, something as trivial as a school marathon would not have an award ceremony, but seeing how Isshiki was the one acting as presenter at the event, this must have been a last-minute plan by the student council. She was a surprisingly capable person. Iroha Isshiki was fearsome indeed.
“Well then, now that the results have been announced, let’s have a comment from the winner!” Holding a mike she’d probably procured from the student council room, Isshiki seemed very pleased as she cheerily assailed our eardrums. Seeing the vice president adjust the speakers every time she did was a little surreal.
Looking around, I saw most everyone was gathered in the park square, with no division between first- or second-years, boys or girls. The faces from our class were all in proper attendance: Miura, Ebina, Tobe, and Totsuka.
As I was gazing at this from a distance, Isshiki called out the victor. “Theeen let’s have our winner, Hayato Hayama, come to the podium!”
At the call, Hayama, wreathed with a bay laurel crown, immediately came up to the podium. The gallery bubbled into cheers.
Wait, he seriously won…?
“Congratulations, Hayato! I just knewww you’d win!” Isshiki greeted him with blatant favoritism.
Hayama replied with a peaceful smile. “Thank you.”
“Right then, go ahead.”
When she handed the mike over to Hayama, applause, whistles, and a call of “HA-YA-TO” rose up. Tobe’s interjections (“Yeeeah! Whoo-hoo!!”) were especially obnoxious.
Hayama waved his hand with a bashful smile in reply, then began speaking. “Things got a little sketchy in the middle, but thanks to a good rival and all your support, I made it to the end. Thank you very much,” he said all in one go, then paused a second. He found Miura among the audience and waved. “And Yumiko and Iroha especially…thank you.”
When he said that, the cheers went up a notch. Ooka whistled with his fingers, while Yamato clapped wildly. And as for the two in question, when Hayato called their names, they both froze in surprise but then gradually started twisting around shyly, blushing and looking down. Yuigahama kindly patted Miura’s shoulder.
Seeing Hayama’s warm gaze and the two girls’ reactions, the onlookers murmured a bit. I get it. So this is what he meant by “resolving things.”
The victor continued with his comment. “Moving forward, I’ll just be focusing on club activities and working hard coming up to our last tournament… Also, a lot of the soccer team gave a disappointing performance in this race today. Our practices are going to push you hard.” Hayama directed an unpleasant grin over at Tobe and the guys.
Tobe let out a hyeeegh and fell backward. “Hayatooo, don’t do this! Warn me first, man!” He was just as loud as anyone on a mike, and everyone burst out in wild cackling.
What a kind world…
“Okaaay, thank you very much! And that was the victor, Hayato Hayama. Right, applause… We don’t really need anything from second or below, right?” Isshiki checked with the vice president while the applause was loud enough to drown it out, but the mike caught all of it. What the heck is she doing…?
As Isshiki was trying to somehow smooth over her gaffe, Hayama chatted with Miura and company down on the ground. They didn’t seem at all distant now, like they had been before. In fact, Miura seemed embarrassed by the eyes on her, quietly hiding behind Yuigahama and Ebina.
I watched the scene, then left the park square.
I had seen with my own eyes Hayato Hayama being Hayato Hayama. Maybe he was nothing more than a self-obsessed clown who had perfected the art of meeting expectations, but when he managed it so perfectly, I couldn’t make a single complaint.
Right as I left the square, I collided with the flow of people also leaving the park. Watching out of the corner of my eye as they exchanged remarks like “So the rumors were just rumors after all, huh?” and “There’s no way he’s going out with Yukinoshita, huh?” I dragged my wobbly legs to the school health room.
The inside of the school building was deserted, and it felt far colder than the square where I’d just been. Most of the other kids had to still be at the marathon venue or passing the time how they wanted.
I changed into my indoor shoes and walked the empty halls of the special-use building. But even that made my injured legs throb.
I knocked on the door of the health room.
“Come in,” a familiar voice replied.
This voice…, I thought, opening the door to find my prediction was not mistaken. Beyond the door was Yukinoshita.
She was still in her gym clothes, sitting on a chair, looking at me with a puzzled expression. “Hikigaya? …I’d thought for sure it was Yuigahama.”
“She’s still at the park. What are you doing here?”
“I was taking a little break when they made me withdraw…,” she said with a frustrated ngh. Apparently, it was a very smooth withdrawal. And seeing her frustration, she’d basically had the intention of finishing the race, huh…?
“You…were hurt?” She looked at my leg, then winced a little.
“Yeah, a little.” I couldn’t say that I’d fallen over my own feet. It was too lame. And besides, if I said something like that, I’d sound like an abuse victim making excuses. Like, No! I really did just fall! I couldn’t make her worry unnecessarily that I’m suffering domestic violence.
“You could have just gotten treated at the park. The school nurse should be over there.”
“When I crossed the finish line, they weren’t there…,” I answered.
Yukinoshita put her hand to her chin, considering. “Ah, you had bad timing. Or is it that you have bad luck? Or bad eyes. Or…”
“Or personality or temper—yes, everything about me is bad. Anyway, I can just use this antiseptic, right?” I asked as I rummaged through one of the medicine cabinets, the one that wasn’t locked.
Yukinoshita sighed. “…Looks like you have the bad habit of taking without asking, too.” She stood, shooing me away from my spot in front of the cabinet to pull out antiseptic and bandages, then pointed to the chair in front of us. “Sit down there.”
“Uh, I can do it myself.”
“Just sit.”
Though I wasn’t entirely happy about this, I sat down anyway, and Yukinoshita moved the chair she’d been sitting on in front of me.
She laid one hand against my leg as she began to disinfect the wound. The smell of the disinfectant was sharp in my nose. When her head bent over near me, I got a waft of soap.
Every time she prodded the wound with the cotton swab with disinfectant on it, it sent an itchy pain running through my leg. I doubt she was really used to giving this sort of treatment. She was so timid about touching it; occasionally, the disinfectant got into the wound and stung.
“Hey, um, th-that stings…”
“Of course it does. It’s disinfecting, so of course it would affect you.”
“Yeah, could you not treat me like a germ?”
“It’s proof that it’s effective. Suck it up.”
Is that, like, the logic of good medicine tasting bitter? I can’t quite trust that. If being bitter makes it good, then wouldn’t that make my life the greatest, though?
Despite what she said, she did seem to be more careful, letting up on the pressure touching the wound, and she used her hands more gently. Now it was ticklish, and I had to force myself to not jump.
Both of us stayed silent until she was done disinfecting the wide area of the scrape. I gradually got used to the prickling pain, too, and the tension in my body relaxed.
Yukinoshita wound a bandage around once, twice, then slowly opened her mouth. “I heard you were running with Hayato… Were you able to get something from him?”
“Yeah… I know it’s not sciences, at least,” I replied vaguely, not sure how to be accurate about it.
Yukinoshita gave a little giggle. “What a funny way to put it… It’s done.” She breathed a satisfied phew, then raised her face. When she did, her face got close enough to mine that we were just about touching.
“…”
Both of us froze up in that position.
Her skin was a faded white, like a dusting of snow in winter, her black eyes sparkling and wet. Her long eyelashes were wavering ephemerally, the bridge of her nose well-formed and straight, and a sigh slipped from her smiling lips.
Her shoulders twitched, sending her long, glossy hair flowing down.
Flustered, I looked up at the ceiling, falling backward to get away. One of my wounds stung. “…Ah, thanks for this,” I thanked her to cover my embarrassment.
Yukinoshita sat back down in her chair, jerking her face away. “…Oh, no, it’s nothing at all.”
After that, the health room went completely silent.
For lack of anything better to do, I took a look at the bandage she’d just wrapped for me. And the tie of the bandage was in a dainty ribbon. …Is this what she meant when she said it’s done? There are those weird metal things for holding bandages, aren’t there? Use those. What’s with this ribbon? …Damn, it’s cute. As I was looking at the ribbon tie, I couldn’t help smiling. I felt a little better.
I sat on the edge of my seat to stretch my back. That pose must have looked strange to Yukinoshita, as she tilted her head.
Now, I figured I’d try asking her. “…Hey, can I ask you which course stream you’re picking?” I asked.
Yukinoshita made a slightly confused little sigh. Her hand stopped on its way to her chin, pausing in front of her chest to ponder. “I’m in the International Curriculum, so the course stream selection has nothing to do with me…”
“…Oh, of course. I just figured I’d ask. Forget about it.” I’d basically anticipated that answer, but I was satisfied, regardless. Satisfied with myself anyway.
I’d expected she would casually turn the question aside, but she took her now idle hands and laid them gently on her lap, head slowly lowering as she looked at me. “It’s the first you’ve asked that sort of thing.”
“Is it?” I said, playing dumb.
There had been any number of opportunities for me to ask things like that, very personal things, and each time, I’d drawn a line and made sure to never cross it. After all, I was sure that wouldn’t be allowed.
Yukinoshita cleared her throat as if this were hard to say, then, peering up from below, she looked into my eyes. “…It is basically arts.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. So…we’re all together for now,” she said, and she smiled. She reminded me of a little girl getting ready to go on an outing.
“Well, just in terms of category, huh?”
I was picking arts, and I was pretty sure Yuigahama was, too.
I don’t know how much point there is in that classification. In the end, we would eventually be setting forth into different places, different worlds. Just as the three friends who had once been young hadn’t been able to stay together forever. With the passage of time, the status quo is certain to change.
What doesn’t change is the facts of the past. That can become a burden to tie you down, but it might also become a stake to secure you. All this one step across needed to do was leave a footprint.
“Then I’m going back to the classroom,” Yukinoshita said. With that short farewell, her hand raised up just a little, waving as weakly as ever.
“Yeah. Then see you later.” I nodded back in response, then put my hand on the door of the health room.
Then the door rattled. Is there a wind coming in from the cracks somewhere? I threw open the door to find someone standing right in front of me.
“Whoa… You startled me…” I tried to calm the thudding of my heart at the sudden appearance, while Yui Yuigahama stood frozen and speechless.
“…Oh, Hikki.”
“Yuigahama… You just get here?” I asked.
“Huh? Ah, yeah. Yeah, yeah! I was just about to knock…” She looked flustered, a moment too late. Then she closed her eyes a moment, and after she’d caught her breath, she jerked her face up. “Yukinooon! Sorry I’m late!” she said loudly, entering the health room, going straight over to sit opposite Yukinoshita.
Yukinoshita’s expression was mildly questioning, but she immediately shook her head and smiled at Yuigahama. “I don’t mind. I wasn’t bored.”
“All right, then… Oh, I know. Hikki’s here, so this is perfect.” Yuigahama faced me and beckoned me over.
Well, I couldn’t leave the door wide-open. It was only one wall apart, but the hallway was really cold.
When I went back into the health room, I was enveloped by warm air. Yukinoshita and Yuigahama were sitting side by side in front of the source of that warm air: the heater.
“We have to report today about Yumiko’s thing, right? But Yumiko’s going straight to the after-party now. What should we do?”
Unlike Yuigahama, who seemed in a rush, Yukinoshita put her hand to her chin as she took her time pondering with a hmm. “…So our only option is to go talk to Miura about it on the way from school.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“You’re supposed to say you’re going to the after-party!” Yuigahama wailed, and Yukinoshita and I exchanged a look. Both of us were already used to this pattern. We nodded at each other and replied at almost the same time.
“Then I’ll go if I can.”
“Yes, I’ll decide depending on the circumstances.”
“That’s just another way of saying you’re not going!” Yuigahama breathed a tired sigh, then said with all sincerity, “Um, well, but I guess it’s better compared with before…” With that, she rattled the wheeled stool over to take up position next to Yukinoshita. “Then let’s go together!” Then, more quietly, she repeated, “…All of us, together.” She quietly leaned close to Yukinoshita.
“…You’re smothering me.” Perhaps because they were in front of the heater, Yukinoshita scowled. But she didn’t pull Yuigahama away, and Yuigahama seemed like she wasn’t going to move from her spot. In front of the heater, her expression changed to something more happy and cozy.
The school nurse will be coming back soon enough to chase us out anyway…
Well, I guess it’s okay for us to stay in this warm room until then.
No Comments Yet
Post a new comment
Register or Login