6
Yui Yuigahama’s thoughts happen to turn to the future.
The day after the filming, Yuigahama and I were once again summoned to the student council room.
Isshiki, sitting opposite us, tap-tapped a stack of papers to arrange them and gracefully held them out to Yuigahama. “I’ve made a list of the photos to be used on the website, so if any are no good, then please cross them off. If you could handle the check for me.”
“Roger. Um…wanna look together, Hikki?” Yuigahama asked as she accepted the pages and fanned them out.
I shook my head. “Nah, I’m good. Worst case, I’ll want to label them all as rejects… I’ll leave it to you.”
“I see… Sure thing, I’ll take a look.” Convinced, Yuigahama gave me a wry smile, then pulled out a pen and started going over each picture. I could hear her squealing and aahing over every single one. Girls really do worry about how they look in photos, huh…?
But this left me a little at loose ends. I was leaning my face on one hand, gazing out of the corner of my eye at the catalog of photos in Yuigahama’s hands, when Yukinoshita’s voice reached from the other side of the computer.
“So? Has that resolved your concerns?”
“Oh. Well, a little, once we actually tried doing it. We really did just make the answer.” Thinking back on the mysterious turn of phrase Yukinoshita had used then, I went on. “Before, we only had that foreign TV show for comparison, so I couldn’t really imagine it. Yesterday helped me build a clearer image. It sounds bad to put it like this, but it’s lowered the bar for the prom. I think the people who’ve seen this video will feel the same way.”
“I see. So then making that video has been a meaningful endeavor. If it were purely for promotional purposes, we could have found an existing video online, but I wanted it to feel familiar to the audience. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be able to imagine it,” she said, preening a little. There was something funny about her pride, and I chuckled.
I had to admit, it was decently effective. And if it worked for a naysayer like me, that would go double for people who actually wanted to go.
Yukinoshita had probably wanted to make this video as a sort of localization. Most of the information, images, and video we had about proms were from a foreign country, and those cultural and racial differences create a wall you have to overcome to picture it. If we just put ourselves in the image, it would only express more vividly the differences in body type, extravagance, and scale. And then when we made our own version, people would think, This is different from what we imagined or This is kinda pitiful, stuff like that. So you had to give them the image by presenting a Japan-style—or rather, a Soubu High School-type—prom as a model case.
“You’re not the only one—everyone who came to the shoot apparently had a pretty good impression of it, too. It was all over my timeline. Look.” Isshiki showed me her phone screen, with photos from the filming the day before. The participants had uploaded them to social media, with comments like It was sooo fun! added to photos of girls in updos and dresses.
But they’re still kinda hiding behind all the cat ears and fake mustache filters… And they’ve made their eyes really big with ultra-black irises. And their skin is so washed out, you have no idea what they looked like to begin with.
“Ahhh, I saw that, too. Some people were really into it, huh?” Yuigahama said, raising her face from her stack of paper.
Isshiki replied with a “Yep, yep,” swiping her phone again to show me more pictures uploaded on various accounts. Most had been edited and tweaked on apps like SNOW or BeautyPlus, so I had absolutely no idea who was who, but they all seemed to be having a glamorously good time.
However, there were also some slightly bolder photos of boys and girls together, leaning on each other’s shoulders or with their faces close. Some people might not be happy to see those, especially when some of the girls were wearing more revealing dresses with low necklines. People like me. I wanted to be like, Huh? Why the hell’re you flirting during filming? but I couldn’t even talk! Gaaah! Just remembering is making me embarrassed! I wanna die!! And so let us leave those matters unquestioned…
But anyway, the posts had mostly positive remarks, and the responses on the timeline were all along the lines of I like it! and I wanna do it, too! Of course, there were some negative comments, but they were the vast minority, so few you could just ignore them.
“If it’s led to some secondary promotion, then the budget investment was worthwhile.” Yukinoshita closed her eyes and nodded, then once again returned to her clicking and clacking on her computer.
Meanwhile, Yuigahama had finished selecting photos; she swiped her pen along the sheet at the end, then held the stack of papers out back to Isshiki. “Hmm, if this is good?”
“Thank you very much. Well then, I’ll get straight to making that page on the website.” Hmming to herself, Isshiki checked over the stack of papers and drew the laptop toward her, then started to spin the trackball.
“Thank you. I’m sorry for having you come all the way here. We’ll be all right now.” Yukinoshita’s hands paused for a moment, and she gave a light bow of her head.
I blinked, and it took me a few moments to understand what those words meant. “…Huh? We’re done?” I asked.
Her face went blank for an instant, and then she put a hand to her chin thoughtfully. “Yes. That was my intention… The student council is handling production of decorations, so for now, there will be no other work that requires your help. Isn’t that right?” Yukinoshita turned to Isshiki.
“Huh? …Uhhh, uh-huh. W-well, if you say so, Yukino. Yeah, of course.” Isshiki must have been working on figuring out the process in her head, as she stared off in another direction and gave an inarticulate answer.
Regardless, the calculation of tasks had been worked out in Yukinoshita’s mind, and she nodded. “If it turns out we absolutely need more people, we may ask for your help again, but I’ll let you know if that happens.”
If she was gonna smile that brightly at me, then I had no choice but to agree. You’d think I’d welcome not having work and getting to go home early, but being released so easily kinda didn’t sit well with me.
When I was trying to work through whatever that meant, Yuigahama, sitting beside me, rose to her feet. “Yeah, okay. See you! And good luck! If there’s anything I can help with, let me know again.” She quickly got her things together, then poked my shoulder with an elbow. “Come on, let’s go, Hikki,” she prompted.
“O-okay.” I finally got up, too. “Then see you.”
When we called to them, Yukinoshita and Isshiki leaned out from behind their computers.
“Yes. Thank you for today,” said Yukinoshita.
“Thank youuuu!” Isshiki echoed, and then they quickly got back to work. We didn’t want to get in the way, so Yuigahama and I briskly left the student council room.
We trudged along the hallway, heading for the front entrance. The light pouring in through the windows was brighter than it usually was after school, letting us know the sun was still high in the sky.
“Nothing to do now, huh?” Yuigahama murmured, walking beside me.
“…Well, I always have nothing to do. You’re not gonna hang out with Miura or whatever?”
“I told them I was helping today. Besides, they had plans, too,” Yuigahama said. She smiled like she didn’t know what to do.
“Huhhh…,” I replied listlessly.
After that, the conversation petered out, and the only sound was our footsteps ringing through the hall. I remembered experiencing a weird silence like this before. Had that been the day we’d stopped going to the club?
Thinking back, I glanced at Yuigahama beside me, which happened to be right as she was glancing at me. I kinda felt like I couldn’t just look away again, so instead, I decided to say something. “…Wanna go stop by someplace?”
“Huh?” She wasn’t surprised, exactly—more like utterly baffled. This wasn’t so much unexpected as incomprehensible to her.
Duuude. I’ve really blown it now, huh? Feeling my face overheating, I tugged up my scarf to hide it. “Uh, um… I was thinking about getting Komachi something, like to congratulate her or for her birthday…or something,” I mumbled through my scarf. I needed to use all my brainpower to find a plausible-sounding reason.
That seemed to be enough for Yuigahama, as she clapped her hands, then went straight to enthusiastically smacking my shoulder. “I like that idea! Let’s go, let’s go! I’ll buy something, too! Hey, where are we going? Where d’you wanna go?”
I’m thankful you’re excited about the idea, but please give me a little time to think…
“Huh? Uh, I dunno… Oh! I remembered I wanted to go to LaLaport.” My hand curled into a fist as I was struck by a divine revelation. Yeah, yeah, that’s actually a place I wanna go.
As I was mentally celebrating, Yuigahama tilted her head curiously. “LaLaport? Sure, but why?”
“I heard there’s a vending machine that only sells Max cans, so I wanted to buy one there.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I remembered how Komachi had lambasted me before. I’ve done it agaaain…
Or so I thought, but Yuigahama immediately accepted it. “Sure. So then let’s go to LaLaport… Geez, how much do you love Max cans?” she added with a snicker. Probably a little weirded out.
But I was surprised that she’d agreed so readily. “Huh? That’s okay?”
“Huh? Is it not?” She gave me a questioning look in return. Her eyes were loudly saying, What’re you even talking about? You suggested it…
I took a breath to calm myself. “No, it’s okay… LaLaport, then. Guess we go to the station first.”
“Yeah! Then let’s go,” she replied with a big grin and a bubbly tone. The trademark patter of her footsteps bounded down the hallway a few steps ahead of me. Following her, I picked up the pace, too.
The Tokyo Bay LaLaport is not that far from our school, just four stops from the closest station. It takes just over ten minutes in a car. Even if you include all the waiting time and walking, it’s under thirty minutes by train.
That meant that on our way there, there was never a real silence. Occasionally, the conversation would run dry, but the riders getting on and off or changes in scenery immediately gave us fodder for trivial conversation, like “It’s pretty empty, huh?” or “They had an event over there a while ago” or whatever. Technically, Yuigahama was the one talking to me about lots of stuff.
And even after arriving at LaLaport, our meandering conversation continued in dribs and drabs.
“Oh, yeah, so what’re you planning to get, Hikki?”
“What do you think I should get?”
“You’re not even gonna try thinking yourself?!”
“Uh, I mean I don’t know the stores around here or anything…”
Yuigahama jerked away in shock and turned back down the street we’d come. This area was lined with clothing stores, but being ignorant in these matters, all I’d managed to do was zone out staring at the window displays.
What’s more, the first store you see when you walk into LaLaport is Peach John lingerie, and that really kicked my embarrassment and shyness up a notch. Before long, my spirit was broken. Now I was just following after Yuigahama, kind of in stalker mode.
If I’d been shopping for myself, I’d have briskly made my purchases without really worrying about it, but we were here now to buy a present for Komachi. She may be my sister, but she’s still a girl. With my sense of taste, that’s enough to make me throw in the towel.
Yuigahama must have understood that. Strolling ahead of me, she tilted her head with a hmm. “Ummm…I dunno, this is Komachi-chan, so a hairpin or something?”
“Ahhh, hmm. She has a pretty clear sense of her own taste, so I don’t think she’d be glad to get something she doesn’t like.”
“Oh, huh…” Yuigahama seemed like she wanted to say, I think she would, though, so I kept going.
“Yeah, she’d probably be like, Ohhh, thanks, Big Bro! Komachi’s so happy! Blush, blush, but then she’d never use it.”
“What’s with the weird impression of her…? Well, maybe you’re right. If I got a weird present from my dad, I don’t think I’d use it. I’d be happier to get cash.”
“Your poor dad…”
As we talked, I tried peeking into a bunch of different storefronts, but nothing screamed Komachi at me.
Around the time we’d done a round of the floors close to the station, my legs started getting tired. When I came to a stop, I saw a corner I recognized from a photo online. “Oh, that Max can vending machine is supposed to be around here, so I’m gonna go buy one.”
“Oh, is it here?”
“Yeah, this is definitely the place. I made sure to look it up beforehand.”
“You researched that part?! What about the present?!”
While her very reasonable suggestion was sliding in one ear and out the other, I slipped through the waves of people to the vending machine. At one of the entrances facing the road, among its more conventional brethren, was that yellow machine.
“O-oh…so this is the Max can vending machine. I heard it was only out for a limited time, so I thought maybe it’d be gone, but…” I was brimming with emotion, but that didn’t stop me from snapping photos. Hmm, I like how yellow it is!
“Huh, wow. It really is shaped just like a Max can,” Yuigahama said with utter disinterest as she came up after me. She didn’t take any pics, nor did she upload anything to Instagram for likes, either.
…I’m left with no choice. Allow me to explain.
“It’s not just in the shape of a Max can. You can tell if you circle around, but on the back, it actually has the nutritional information written on it. Isn’t it detailed? You can feel the love.”
“Huhhh.”
…She doesn’t care at all!
Well, of course. Most people wouldn’t get the point of a vending machine specifically made for Max cans. Makes me happy, though.
Once I’d taken a bunch of pics, I took a selfie with the vending machine in the background, going Yaaay with a sideways peace sign.
Yuigahama suddenly giggled. “…Okay, so maybe the design is kinda cute.”
“Right?! The design’s been changed a bunch of times, but the current one has got way more pop appeal! It’s ridiculously cute!” I gushed before I could stop myself.
“Why’s this the most excited you’ve been today?! And, like, I don’t know what it used to look like…” Yuigahama sighed in exasperation. “Well, whatever. I’ll take one, too,” she said, pulling out her phone to hop a step closer and stand at my side. Coming up beside me where I’d just been taking selfies, with no warning at all, she took a photo with a snap. She was so smooth about it, I didn’t even have the time to protest. I probably had a really dumb look on my face. Although if she’d asked me first, the blushing and refusal to look at the camera wouldn’t have made for a good picture, either.
So, well, this photo would be a little better.
“…Send me that one,” I said.
“Yeah,” Yuigahama replied, as if this was perfectly normal. Her eyes were still on her own phone. Only a moment after some swiping and tapping, my phone vibrated. When I looked, there was a message from her.
In the attached photo, we were totally bleached white with sparkly stars flying around, and also both of us had dog ears, dog noses, and dog whiskers… Well, with this much editing, I can’t complain of illegal use of my image. Smiling wryly, I put password protection on the file.
“Okay,” I said. “I got what I came for, so time to go home.”
“We haven’t done it, and I’m not going home…” As I was about to cheerily withdraw, Yuigahama grabbed my sleeve with a sigh and stopped me. “Oh, then wanna go try that IKEA? They have lots of random household stuff.”
She was pointing ahead to another building. IKEA is a furniture and interior decoration warehouse store from Sweden that has outlets all over the world. The first outlet in Japan is in Funabashi in Chiba. Fantastic as always, Chiba, number one in Japan.
Well, wandering around a big place like LaLaport with nothing in mind wasn’t the most efficient use of our time. Maybe it’d be a good idea to change tacks. I agreed with Yuigahama’s suggestion, and we immediately set off for the IKEA.
Since this commercial area was near the ocean, the sea breeze was still chilly around this time of year, and you could really feel it coming out of the warm shopping mall. As I was quietly chanting “Cold, cold, cold,” Yuigahama and I crossed the pedestrian bridge at a trot.
Before long, we were inside the IKEA, and we both sighed at practically the same time. Of course the warmth was part of it, but also because the sofas and rugs and stuff at the entrance looked so cozy.
“How about we just look around?” Yuigahama suggested.
She took the elevator up with the confidence of a pro. I followed, and we came to the open area of the showroom space. There was furniture, interior decoration, and miscellaneous items arranged so that you could pick them up and check them out. There were also themed booths with selections of furniture, like “A family of three in a Kachidoki apartment” or “An LDK that makes you smarter,” so it had a bit of a theme park feeling.
Huh, this is the first time I’ve ever come to a furniture store, but it’s pretty interesting. You could practically live here if you ever got tired of home. Living space runaway Ikeon…
I browsed around the store. Yep, guess this is what an IKEA is like.
Right as I was passing by a booth labeled LAID-BACK SINGLE LIVING IN URAYASU, Yuigahama popped in to take a peek.
What is it? Is there some wonderful curio she wants to investigate? Like an armchair that won’t break, even if you sit on it six million three hundred thousand times…? I followed her into the booth.
The interior decoration was white in theme, with a tidy wardrobe and storage shelves, and the space felt big for the square footage. It made good use of the vertical space on the walls and shelves, and the small articles placed about came together neatly, too. In the back of the booth was a kitchen—though a small one—and a spot for a washing machine.
You really could enjoy some laid-back living in a place like this, even on your own. Hachiman, you should live in an apartment like this! whispered the mom in my head, but I shooed her away.
Meanwhile, Yuigahama was strolling around the booth, making noises of appreciation. After a little while, she plunked down on the bed by the wall with a tired-sounding phew. Then she twisted back to face me and opened her mouth nonchalantly. “Hikki, are you gonna live on your own, once you’re in university?”
“Depends on the school and the faculty. If it’s in Tama or Tokorozawa, I really wouldn’t want to commute from my house. The places I want to get into right now are basically all within commuting distance, though,” I said, picking up the fancy-schmancy empty bottle placed on top of the desk and examining it.
Yuigahama seemed both impressed and surprised. “You’ve already decided you’ll pass…”
“With my grades, there aren’t many options at just the right level for private humanities. I’ll just take a few exams for faculties in fields that seem like they could be interesting. So it’s not like I decided it. More like a process of elimination.” I put the bottle back where it had come from, and though there was nothing inside, it made a heavy-sounding clunk. To cover for it, I added, “It’s not like there’s anything I really want to do.”
I wasn’t able to say the last part: That’s why I’m going to university. To find it.
I’d kind of realized it myself. Even at university, I probably wasn’t going to meet destiny or find a dream that would decide the course of my life.
I’ve never really devoted myself to anything in life before, so I don’t think I’m cut out for the pursuit of dreams. Even if I did find something I could have an interest in, I’d screw up somewhere along the line, or give up, or bark about how I didn’t like it that much in the first place anyway. I could basically see how it would end.
But I think most people are like that. It’s not really something to be pessimistic about.
Haruno Yukinoshita had said that you become an adult through giving up on many things.
But some people don’t even reach that stage, since they don’t even try in the first place. Like me, for example. So what happens to the people who couldn’t even give up?
I realized with a start that all this pointless navel-gazing had made the conversation grind to a halt.
When I looked over at Yuigahama, her gaze was focused on the empty bottle near my hand. “Yukinon’s decided on her future, huh? She’s fast…,” she muttered in way that could be taken as deploring or sorrowful. I didn’t know what to say in reply.
But then, as if to reassure me that I didn’t have to say anything, Yuigahama let out a little breath and grinned. When our eyes met, she seemed to notice I’d been on my feet this whole time. She shifted over with a hup to open up space for me to sit.
The creak of the springs was weirdly vivid, and it startled me. But it’d be awkward to say no when she’d made room for me. Besides, like, acting hyperaware of it would be creepy! And I am hyperaware of it and creepy! Wearily, I sat down on the bed.
“What was your dream when you were little, Hikki?” Yuigahama asked like a kid pestering me for a bedtime story. Maybe that was because of where we were sitting.
I didn’t have a big repertoire of fanciful ideas to respond with, but I took a moment to consider. “Depends on your definition of dream, but… If just something like a whim counts, then, well, there was lots of stuff. I wanted to be a CEO or a millionaire…pro baseball player, superhero, manga artist, idol, police officer… Also a doctor, lawyer, prime minister, president. And an oil baron.”
“Those are all money related. They’re not dreams at all…”
“Yeah, well, now that I’ve said it out loud, even I’m wondering what the hell was wrong with me…” It made me kind of depressed. Not a very cute kid. Still not, if I do say so myself…
Yuigahama seemed to pick up on my calm little bout of self-loathing. “Oh, but!” she hurried to say. “When you said idol, I thought, That’s a real dreamer!”
“That doesn’t make it better. Just so you know, I was supercute when I was little, okay? If I’d just had a reason to, I’d have become an idol. And, like…what about you?” I asked.
She folded her arms with a hmm and tilted her head. “I… Yeah, there was a lot of stuff. I wanted to be a florist, a pastry chef, or an idol!” she said energetically, just like a kid with dreams.
“In a way, those aren’t too different from mine,” I replied, a crooked smile tugging at my lips.
But her innocent grin only lasted for a moment, and her expression quickly turned more mature. A smile crossed her face, and she stood from the bed. She took one slow step after another, as if leaving her childhood dreams behind there. “…Also, a bride and stuff,” she said over her shoulder, then spun around to face me again.
She was standing in front of the kitchen, which was in the back of the booth. The tile on the wall was completely white, and the light coming in through the glass square that was made to look like a skylight rained down on her like a veil.
Her words felt too real to be called a dream, and I couldn’t laugh them off or make a face.
Instead, I slowly walked into the kitchen, using that time to think up some joke. “That’s not much different from me… A househusband has dreams, you know.”
“When you say it like that, you totally don’t…” Yuigahama’s shoulders slumped, and she let out an exasperated chuckle. I think she laughed for my sake. Even under a source of light so bright it seemed deliberate, I could still feel something gentle in her smile. I was too bashful to raise my eyes.
You couldn’t actually use the kitchen in this booth, of course, but they had a full set of everything, from cooking implements to utensils. It felt real, like you could start living here right now. I mean, they were selling these things, so obviously they should feel real—but they didn’t quite, not in that way.
The furniture, the utensils, the kitchen, and the bed were all real, but fake at the same time. Wondering what made that distinction, I touched a cupboard.
Then Yuigahama clapped her hands. “Oh, wouldn’t something handmade be a good idea?”
“Huh? Furniture?”
“No, the present. Like a cake.”
For a moment there, the wheels of my brain were really spinning trying to figure out what the heck she was talking about. But when she said present, I suddenly remembered. Oh, the present for Komachi! I knew that, I knew that. That was not because I forgot, okay, look. While I was mentally generating a flood of excuses, Yuigahama’s revelation showed no signs of stopping.
She started lining up the plates, knives, and forks, and then a mug, too, as she began an impassioned speech. “And then when we serve the cake, we put out a drink with it, in a mug…and that mug is actually the present! Wow! Yeah, that sounds kinda chic!” She put both hands to her cheeks excitedly. “Yes!”
“…You think? Is that chic?” I asked coolly, and her confidence in her design sense wilted a bit.
“I-it’s fine! It’s a bit like a surprise! It’ll work!” Her cheeks flushed a little pink, and she began timidly returning the utensils to their places.
“Well…handmade actually isn’t a bad idea.” Her sulky reaction was so charming, I had to smile, and then I even said something sweet. In the most literal sense. “How about we go eat some dessert? For research purposes.”
“Ohhh, that’s a great idea! Let’s go, let’s go!” Yuigahama got real excited about that, poking and prodding me in the back, and we left the display booth.
Making something myself actually wasn’t a bad idea. Some things will really appeal to the heart of the receiver, and the fact that they spent the time on you is touching. And if it’s someone you feel affection for, then all the more so.
It really will sway your heart.
…Guess I’ll do my best to make a cake for Komachi! And maybe through this process, I might just discover a new dream.
Yes, my dream of becoming the legendary Cure Patissière…
Du Fu once said that the nation is crushed, but the rivers and mountains still remain. On the other hand, someone else once said, “My dreams are crushed, and I remain at my parents’ house.” Of course, that’s me.
My dreams have been crushed. Though we went to have some nice desserts, nominally for research, I discovered the obvious fact that I could never make any of this, and my dream of becoming a Pretty Cure came to an end. After returning home, I went to bed in a huff.
But night would still turn to dawn.
The next day after that outing with Yuigahama, another school day passed without incident, and eventually classes were over.
There must really have been no real work to do for prom planning, just as we’d been told the day before in the student council room. There was no summons from either Yukinoshita or Isshiki, and here we were.
If it’s this late and nobody’s messaged me, then can I just go home? I wondered, feeling just a little uneasy. I couldn’t help but glance over at Yuigahama. If anyone would be contacted, she’d get a message first.
Yuigahama nodded back at me. Then she waited for a moment when her chat with Miura and Ebina reached a lull before slipping away to come over to me. “What’re your plans today, Hikki?” she asked with a cock of her head. If that’s how she was asking the question, then she wasn’t going to be helping with the prom.
“Going home. There’s nothing to do.”
“Oh…same here, so I’m going home,” Yuigahama said, then immediately pattered back to her seat, waving at Miura and Ebina with a “See you guys!” before she got her stuff, threw on her coat, heaved on her backpack, and wound her scarf around her neck. “Then let’s go.”
“Okay…” I was completely confused as to how this had led to us walking back together, but I headed to the front of the classroom.
Then the door rattled violently. I’d just barely registered the sound when it was smacked open with a loud rolling of ball bearings that startled me.
Isshiki appeared, panting as if she’d run all the way there. The moment she saw us, she slumped limply, letting out a big sigh. “Phew, you’re both still here…”
“What’s wrong?” Yuigahama asked.
“…Can you just come with me?” As soon as she said it, she spun around the other way.
Yuigahama and I exchanged confused looks, but Isshiki’s grave expression gave us no choice but to follow her in ignorance.
Isshiki rushed down the hallway, and we had to hurry to keep up with her. As we descended the stairs, I came up next to her and observed her profile.
Isshiki noticed my eyes on her, but her sharp gaze remained firmly ahead as if she didn’t have the time to explain. Her feet were still picking up speed. “So we’re kinda in trouble.” With just that remark, she drew her mouth in a tight line. The harshness of her expression told me that this was serious, whatever it was.
Before I could ask for any details, we arrived at the room she wanted.
It was in the hallway that had the teachers’ room, the admin office, the principal’s office, and other rooms like that. I’d never gone in there before, but the plate read RECEPTION ROOM. Isshiki knocked on the door, then opened it without waiting for an answer and strode in.
I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should follow her.
The moment the door had opened, I saw them: Miss Hiratsuka and Yukinoshita seated on the sofa nearest the entrance. They were facing away from us.
Opposite them was Haruno Yukinoshita, with her mother.
I didn’t just have a bad feeling about their presence here. This wasn’t a premonition. This was certainty.
Yukinoshita’s back was hunched slightly in the face of her mother’s calmness—or maybe I should say her detachment.
Her mother lifted her face to the open door. Her soft gaze, her mild smile, came from eyes so beautiful that you could get trapped in them. The attention directed at us was the same temperature as it had been when it was directed at her own daughter. It made something cold run up my spine.
Isshiki reacted by bobbing a bow. “I’m very sorry for making you wait. About the prom, all of us discussed it together to make the decision… So I want all of us to be involved in any disputes about whether it will go on as planned,” she said with determination, almost yelling it. Her hostility bled through in her voice, her manner of speaking, and her eyes. She didn’t try to hide any of it.
Mrs. Yukinoshita smiled as if to say, Oh dear. “A dispute? Oh, it’s nothing so dramatic. We just came to share our opinion with everyone,” she said in a slow, gentle tone as if soothing a small child, then smiled brightly as she prompted us to sit.
Miss Hiratsuka turned her head toward us as well, nodding to indicate we should do so.
There were two black leather sofas with a low table between them. There was a three-person sofa facing the door we’d come in, while opposite that was the L-shaped sofa where Yukinoshita and Miss Hiratsuka were sitting. Of course, that was the side we went to sit on, which put us across from Yukinoshita’s mother and Haruno.
Yukinoshita, who hadn’t looked toward us even once since our arrival, got things started with a stiff and formal introduction. “…Well then, would you mind reiterating what you have to say once more?”
There was a hint of tension in Mrs. Yukinoshita’s smile. Haruno was apathetically swirling her stir stick around in the coffee she’d been served.
The room was dead silent, almost frozen by the chill around the three Yukinoshita women.
Mrs. Yukinoshita seemed to sense that, and she smiled with extra gentleness. “About this prom—it has been expressed to me that the event should be canceled. Some of the parents have seen the photos that were posted online and have come to us. They’ve said that it doesn’t seem very decent…that they’re worried that perhaps it may not be appropriate for high school students.” She carefully chose her words, then glanced over at Haruno, on standby beside her.
Haruno breathed a beleaguered sigh. “And the reception among the alumni is…mixed.” From the way she was supplementing her mother’s statement, I figured out the reason Haruno was here. She’d been sent in for supporting fire.
But the hint of a challenging smile showed in the corner of her mouth as she added, “…It’s mostly positive, though.”
“Even if it is a minority opinion, that doesn’t mean it should be cast aside. If some people are saying they don’t like the idea, we should be attentive to that,” her mother instantly shot back. Her manner wasn’t sweet enough to call chiding—accusatory would be more accurate. There was something authoritative about it. But Haruno let it slide over her with feigned ignorance, closing her eyes to bring her coffee to her lips again.
Yukinoshita’s eyes were cold, and I could hear it in her voice when she replied. “…So then why are you here, Mother?”
“I am a member of the parents’ association… And when the request comes from someone with a relationship with your father, we can’t reject it out of hand… You understand that, don’t you?”
Her face was smiling, her tone warm. Her manner was peaceful. She chided in a kind and understandable way. This was like scolding a child, not the way she’d treated Haruno before.
When Yukinoshita lowered her head, squeezing the hem of her skirt, her mother continued gently, “Of course, as long as things are done in moderation, I don’t think they’ll mind?” Her seemingly considerate smile, her slow and graceful tone, and her apparent willingness to compromise were all incredibly polite, but she was implying the complete opposite of what she’d said. And the words that followed expressed that directly.
“But we’ve looked into proms as well, and issues such as drinking and improper sexual conduct do occur. Some believe it’s inappropriate to hold one as has been proposed for the appreciation party. Not to mention that when problems do come up, you won’t be able to take responsibility for it, will you?”
“I explained this! If we work together with the parents’ association and the school administration, we can prevent issues of that nature…” For just a moment, Yukinoshita raised her voice, but she quickly settled down. Her voice turned weak, almost sulking. “And we’ve received informal permission for it, haven’t we…?” she added in a mumble, and then her gaze fell to a corner of the floor as she gritted her teeth.
Yukinoshita’s mother listened with narrowed eyes, but once she was done hearing everything, she nodded. “I believe the parents’ association was also careless in this matter. But it was ultimately only informal approval after a review of the documents, wasn’t it? The ultimate decision was postponed until you actually tried doing it…”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Isshiki jumped in before she was even done speaking, ready to start a fight. “We talked about it beforehand so that the decision wouldn’t be overturned later. And, like, isn’t it the parents’ job to discipline their kids so that they don’t cause problems?”
Yuigahama’s eyes widened at her determination.
“Isshiki,” Miss Hiratsuka reprimanded her.
“…Sorry.” Isshiki seemed to think she’d said too much and grudgingly apologized. But the pout on her lips showed she wasn’t satisfied.
Haruno quietly turned away and tried not to smile. Of course, she was the only one.
Miss Hiratsuka bowed her head to apologize for her student’s rudeness, and Mrs. Yukinoshita gave the smallest shake of her head to say she wasn’t bothered.
“Of course, I believe the parents and guardians will have a variety of opinions. I doubt they want to forbid everything and restrict your freedom. I’m sure they’re simply worried. If there’s an uproar about it on social media, or individuals are identified and come to harm…such incidents are quite likely, aren’t they? That’s why parents are even more sensitive to such a big event,” Mrs. Yukinoshita said, focusing her gaze on Isshiki. Her eyes flashed. She almost seemed to be enjoying how unusual she was.
“You said your name was Isshiki, is that right? As you’ve said, I believe parents and the school should make sure to teach their children about how to manage such situations and how to appropriately use the Internet. There are such initiatives happening in school education, and they’re often incorporated into business seminars these days as well,” she explained passionately, almost gleefully. That excitement when she was explaining something resembled her daughter Yukinoshita a lot. It was almost charming.
However, the moment that smile faded, so did the resemblance. “…But it’s still difficult to say it’s enough. Even adults who have studied the matter and should have sound judgment in that area will still cause online debacles and issues.”
And that went doubly so for children. So you shouldn’t have this prom. She didn’t have to say it; I knew where this was going.
The students who had taken part in the filming had, quite honestly and without any pretensions, posted photos on social media without anticipating that it would become a matter for concern. Some parents were connected with their kids on LINE, and some parents would be snooping on their kids’ Instagrams and other social media. And we on the student side hadn’t been paying attention to that. Meaning some people would see this event as indecent and get aggressive about it.
“…Once you start talking hypotheticals, you can worry about anything,” Yukinoshita said bitterly. She must have arrived at the same thought as me.
Indeed. It was ridiculous to worry about every single possibility, then cancel it because there was risk. If you were going to be like that, then you could also say the catering might cause food poisoning, so cancel it. No matter how many precautions you took, nobody could say for sure that it would be absolutely safe.
Yukinoshita’s mother should, of course, understand that herself.
“With these negative views, I really do think there’s no need to force the event. If the community is talking behind your back, it will hinder your opportunities right when you’re entering a new stage in life.”
So next she changed her approach, bringing in emotional arguments. With her eyebrows turned down in an expression of concern, she made her appeal. “An appreciation party is for the graduates, but it’s also an important event for the parents, teachers, and other members of the community… No one was dissatisfied with the old appreciation parties, were they?” she said, turning to Haruno beside her with a tilt of her head. Haruno gave just one cold nod.
Yukinoshita couldn’t say a word. Critical hit, I thought, and a bitter taste spread in my mouth.
If we’d come at it with the goal of addressing complaints about the old appreciation parties and then had decided to have a prom instead, that would have made it easier to gain understanding. But we’d come straight from the concept of prom. This would be difficult to push back on.
Isshiki leaned forward. “If you’re talking about graduates, then we’re future graduates, too. We absolutely have a right to make proposals about the appreciation party.”
Her backward argument was actually brilliant. Nice one, Isshiki. When I stared at her, impressed, she glanced back at me with a triumphant chuckle. That seemed to get her going, too. “The other students at this school see the prom favorably, in fact. Most of the opinions on social media are positive…”
But she wasn’t able to finish. The moment Isshiki took a breath, Mrs. Yukinoshita smiled and cut right in. “Perhaps that is the case with social media. But it’s also important to listen to the opinions that aren’t made public. Someone with authority, someone with everyone’s trust, has that responsibility… You two make sure to remember that, too,” she added to her daughters at the end. Same tone, same manner, but that last sentence was a very different temperature. Maybe that was why—Haruno snorted and let out a bored sigh, and Yukinoshita just froze.
At this point, I had a whole new perspective. I was really getting what Haruno Yukinoshita had once said about the one “scarier than herself.” This was bad. It wasn’t getting anywhere.
You couldn’t fight this woman with logic.
At first, you would only see her listening with a meek smile and apparent understanding. She might even convince you she was lending an ear to your opinion and engaging in discussion.
But she wasn’t. This was a style of counteroffensive. She’d turn your point aside with a smile, see how you would respond, then cut you with the return strike. If she’d just been using this to out-argue you and make you yield, that wouldn’t have been so bad. But she didn’t fixate on such matters—she drove you into the trap she’d set at the beginning.
She would not concede any part of her final conclusion, and to that end, she would feign sorrow or introduce emotion into her logic.
Yukinoshita’s mother had said that it was nothing so dramatic as a dispute.
She was completely right. All along, she’d never had any intention of disputing anything, and she’d said at the beginning that there was no room for argument.
I was sure there were contradictions somewhere in her objections, some holes, but she covered them up with that mild smile and gentle tone. Even if you did find a hole to pierce, it would change nothing. She would take it with a smile and agree, right until she brought it to the same conclusion from a different angle.
It would be bad strategy to let her talk too much right now. The more she spoke, the more potential openings would vanish.
Isshiki must have sensed this danger as well. She glanced at me. I caught her look out of the corner of my eye, but all I could do was make a face. Sorry if she’d been expecting something from me, but this opponent was really too much. All I could do was direct her attack elsewhere.
“The school administration has given its informal consent, right? What’s your view on this?” I asked Miss Hiratsuka, and all eyes gathered on her at once. Yuigahama and Isshiki seemed faintly hopeful. Haruno seemed vaguely amused as she committed to spectating, while Yukinoshita closed her eyes and waited for the words to come. Yukinoshita’s mother, on the other hand, leveled her with eyes as peaceful as calm seas.
Now the center of attention, Miss Hiratsuka smiled with her lips only. “Personally speaking, I would like to avoid instantly deciding to cancel the event. Our school has a tradition of valuing autonomy. My suggestion would be appropriately revising the problematic areas of the event plan while engaging in continued negotiations. That way, we can obtain cooperation and understanding from all parents and guardians.”
As expected of a reliable adult. I was grateful she could end this sham dispute here and now.
Mrs. Yukinoshita had no objections to this suggestion to start over. “I believe that’s a very reasonable view. Well then, I’ll visit again. In the future, would it be possible for me to speak with the school administration?”
“I’ve informed my superiors. We’ll confirm the date as soon as possible and touch base with you.”
When that businesslike exchange was done, Mrs. Yukinoshita bowed. “I’m sorry for the trouble. Thank you very much… Haruno, let’s pay our respects to everyone and get back.”
“Ah, I’ll leave once I’ve finished my coffee.” Haruno pointed to her coffee cup, smiled as if she hadn’t been paying attention to any of this, and fluttered a hand in a wave.
Her mother sighed with exasperation. “I see. Well then, I’ll head back without you,” she said, rising to her feet. Even after sitting for a long time, her kimono was not the slightest bit ruffled, and her bearing was just as dignified while standing. And with equal dignity, she called the name of her other daughter. “Yukino.”
Yukinoshita’s eyes only flicked away. Noticing that little reaction, her mother spoke slowly and gently to her. “I understand that you’re doing your best. But come home a little earlier. There’s no need for you to push yourself.”
“…Yes. I understand.” That was all Yukinoshita said before she closed her eyes.
Her mother smiled, seemingly at a loss, but eventually she seemed to come to a decision and began walking off. She bowed good-bye to us, and Miss Hiratsuka stood and followed to see her off. The two of them continued out of the reception room.
Once the door of the reception room was closed, a number of us sighed.
On the other side of the door, I could hear Miss Hiratsuka exchanging a few parting words with Mrs. Yukinoshita.
“Agh, I’m tired,” said Haruno quietly. Maybe she didn’t want to be heard. “Getting dragged along for this stuff is such a hassle…,” she said. She drank down her probably cold coffee and made a face at it. Yukinoshita seemed to be swallowing something, too, although I didn’t think she’d had anything to drink. Her lips were pressed in a hard line. The two of them had very similar faces.
Although, if you’re talking about resemblance, then I’m sure it was their mother they took after.
The feeling of something foreign, or twisted, that I sometimes sensed in both Yukinoshita and Haruno, I could also see in their mother. That was what made me want to probe it. “Um… She said one of the members of the parents’ association, but was it the chair of the association or someone like that?”
“No, no, it’s some ridiculous honorary position, like trustee or something. Their job is to write authorization forms, because they have membership. But our father has strong community ties because of his job, and both his daughters are from this school, right? So we were asked to come out here.”
I see. A situation specific to someone in a position of local power, huh? To draw an example from my own life, I guess it’s like the company exec at my dad’s job or whatever. Apparently, if you go report to him when there’s trouble, he says, “I’ll go have a talk with them, too.” He’s eager to barge in on that person, even if you never asked him to. Although with Yukinoshita’s mother, it’s local people making requests to her, so I guess that’s a little different, huh?
As I was thinking, Haruno’s voice suddenly turned glum. “…So what she wants basically doesn’t matter. Since she got the request, she had to come here and say her piece, for appearances’ sake,” Haruno said as if it bored her, then snorted.
But I didn’t think I could laugh it off. Something about it—something about that stance—reminded me of what a certain someone had said before, and it made me feel a bit sick.
As I sighed out the feeling, the reception room door opened, and Miss Hiratsuka returned. “Oh, damn” was the first thing that came from her mouth, along with a wry smile. She pulled a crystal glass ashtray from the shelf in the corner of the reception room, went to stand beside the window, and lit her cigarette.
Apparently, this reception room was exempt from the general no-smoking rule in the school building. Well, anyone brought to this kind of room would probably be getting VIP treatment, and some of those types would be heavy smokers. By meeting with them in a special space that lay outside the rules, the school would show their good faith and respect.
In other words, Mrs. Yukinoshita was being treated as none other than a VIP, and that was enough to tell me where the school administration would stand on this.
And perhaps Yukinoshita, who’d been a part of this discussion from the very start, felt that the most. Her straight-backed posture was no different from before, but there was darkness in her voice. “…How do you think the school administration will handle this?”
“I couldn’t say. If it’s just pictures on social media, then… Well, my bosses don’t see it as that much of a problem, either.” After a series of quick drags on her cigarette, Miss Hiratsuka smiled to put Yukinoshita at ease. But then she tapped the ash off the end and continued quietly, “…It’s just that there are many fine people out there who will oh-so-graciously offer their opinions. We sometimes get e-mails or phone calls. ‘Goodness me, those skirts are too short’ or ‘They were out on the street being loud’ or ‘They looked at me and laughed.’ Usually, we’ll just say, ‘Thank you very much for your valuable opinion; we will take it into consideration when disciplining students in the future,’ and if necessary, we carry out the discipline, and that’s the end of it, but…” Miss Hiratsuka trailed off, blew out a puff of smoke, and sneered. “But when it’s coming from this angle, it really will be seen as a bigger problem… We’ll be forced to deal with it accordingly.”
She was dancing around it, but that only meant one thing: The prom was canceled.
If you were to come up with similar cases for this sort of problem, you’d be counting forever. For example, once, there was a recruiting ad for a certain company posted at a certain train station. The ad had punch, with a slightly novel twist in the copy writing, so it went viral on social media and got a big response with tens of thousands of likes. Most of the responses were positive, seeing it as unique and fun. But within a few days, the company that had produced the ad wound up withdrawing it themselves. They’d gotten negative feedback via phone and e-mail and such, enough that it had become a problem for the company.
This happens a lot these days: Even if the reception is overwhelmingly positive, just a little bit of criticism is enough to warrant consideration and action, and not always by choice.
The ideas of compliance, political correctness, etc. have started to take root, and companies are now more strongly aware of areas where they should show consideration. Though that in itself is something to be glad of, this change in perception is still in a transitional period.
For that reason, terms like inappropriate, inadvisable, or indecent have sometimes been utilized excessively, and there have been some extreme reactions. You could say the same of the environment surrounding this prom. I think that’s enough to understand the concept.
The problem here was what would actually be done.
“Can’t you put pressure on the parents from the school side?” I asked. Since we’d received informal permission to hold the prom, sending us back to the drawing board didn’t reflect well on the school. Even from this one point, I’d try being like, Isn’t there any way we could win you over?
Miss Hiratsuka’s eyes fell to the cigarette in her hand, and she paused for a moment of consideration. “I wouldn’t call it absolutely impossible…but if you kids want to have the prom next year and beyond, then I think I shouldn’t intervene.” She crushed her cigarette in the ashtray, and when its flame went out, she turned back to us. After the smoke was gone, that distinctive smell with a heavy hit of tar wafted around. It stirred up my anxiety.
I didn’t understand what she was saying, and it was showing on my face.
Then Haruno raised her voice in surprise. “…Shizuka-chan, you still haven’t said?”
“I couldn’t tell them when it hasn’t been formally decided,” Miss Hiratsuka replied calmly.
“You just couldn’t say it,” Haruno deadpanned, and the teacher averted her eyes awkwardly.
“…Urk, well.”
Moving in for the next blow, Haruno let out a deep sigh and continued. “I mean, it’s a public school, and you’ve worked at this school enough years. Last year was right on the borderline, so this year is definitely the last.”
The fragments of their conversation basically told me what the situation was. But I couldn’t bring myself to put that into words. All I had was an understanding that still felt unreal. Oh, is that right?
But Yuigahama tried to put it into words. “Um, does that mean…?” she began hesitantly.
“Well, that talk comes later.” Miss Hiratsuka smiled brightly at her and brought an end to that line of discussion. “Let’s leave it for next time.” Then she turned her gaze to Yukinoshita and Isshiki. “So…what will you do?” she asked.
Both of them jerked their faces up. I scratched at my head as well, as if I could erase the shock from my face.
“What do we do…? Revise the issues in the plan…,” Yukinoshita started to say, but then immediately shook her head. She must have realized herself that was meaningless. Impossible.
If you took out the dresses and dancing and the fancy party, then it wasn’t a prom anymore. That would never satisfy the people who wanted it. But we couldn’t just make some half-assed revisions to the areas where there had been complaints; it wouldn’t get the okay that easily, not after having gotten off to such a rocky start. You couldn’t please everyone involved. We were stuck.
“As the parents’ association discusses continuing the prom, I’ll think of some way we can gain their understanding…,” Yukinoshita said, but her face was so pale and her voice sounded so feeble, she had nearly given up hope. But there was nothing else we could do.
I agreed. “Yeah, you’re right. For now, we get what we need to convince them, and then…”
I stopped there. Yukinoshita, sitting next to me on the sofa, had grabbed my sleeve to stop me. Though the pull itself was weak, her squeeze wrinkled the cloth. “Wait. Anything beyond that is my job… It’s something I should do.”
“…This isn’t the time to be fixated on that,” I said, and Isshiki nodded. Miss Hiratsuka was watching over us, as she always did. Yuigahama didn’t say yea or nay, or anything at all. Yukinoshita was choked silent, her lips pulled tight. I waited for her answer.
But someone else was the one to speak. “…You’re gonna be the big bro again?” Despite the playful, teasing smile in her words, they left me cold. Haruno Yukinoshita, lounging on the sofa opposite us, almost seemed to pity me.
“Huh? What are you talking about?” It took me a second to register the anger in my reply, but I knew I wasn’t being polite.
But Haruno giggled, as if my reaction amused her. “When Yukino-chan says she can do it herself, you can’t just barge in and lend her a hand. You’re not her big brother or anything.”
She was just messing with me, but it bothered me enough to keep me from responding. From behind, I could hear Isshiki faintly sighing, and I found myself looking away. “That’s not…what this is.” My voice was weak and trembling, but also a clear denial.
I felt something like a gentle rub on my back, and when I lifted my head, Yuigahama was glaring at Haruno. “…She’s important to us. Of course we’d help her out.”
“If you care for her, then I think you should respect her will.” Haruno’s sigh revealed her irritation. “If the prom happens, that might change our mother’s view of her somewhat. If she accomplishes it herself… Do you understand the implications if you interfere?” Her voice was hostile toward Yuigahama and me. Her sharp gaze seemed to shoot us down; her pointed words dug into our skin.
It was a heavy question. If you got down to it, I think she was asking if we could take responsibility for her future, her life. I couldn’t answer that lightly. We weren’t little kids who could act without considering the consequences, but we weren’t grown enough to shoulder the full burden.
So Yuigahama, Isshiki, and I could say nothing.
If anyone here had the answers, then it would be Miss Hiratsuka. But she kept her silence and let the smoke rise from her cigarette, watching Haruno with an aged, stern smile.
Haruno seemed to notice, and her face softened. She was much gentler when she spoke to us next. “No matter how much you care for someone, it’s not necessarily the right thing to always give them help… Do you know what a relationship like yours is?”
“Haruno, stop it… I understand.” Yukinoshita didn’t cut off the question—she spoke slowly, in a calm tone. When she gave a smile clear as crystal, Haruno didn’t press her any further.
Yukinoshita was staring at her hands in her lap. Eventually, she quietly put together the words she wanted to say. “I want to really prove that I can do it myself. So…Hikigaya, I won’t ask for your help anymore. I’m sorry it’s such a selfish request, but…please. Let me do it,” she said, lifting her head. Her expression was pure and calm, just like her voice.
But when our gazes met, her eyes grew dewy. Her faint smile was trembling now, and sorrow was bleeding through. She gulped a little, and her voice shook. “If I don’t, I’ll get…worse and worse… I know…that I’m being dependent. On you, and on Yuigahama—I say I won’t rely on anyone, but then I always end up forcing you to take that role anyway.” Yukinoshita’s voice faltered under its melancholy weight.
Yuigahama lowered her gaze, quietly listening. Miss Hiratsuka silently closed her eyes, while Isshiki awkwardly looked away. Haruno watched coldly, but then she let out a faint breath, breaking into a smile.
But I couldn’t help but say it. Even if the words were empty, if they meant nothing, I couldn’t not reject what she’d said.
“That’s…not true… That’s totally wrong,” I somehow managed to say.
But Yukinoshita slowly shook her head. “It’s not. That’s always how it winds up. I thought I could do better, but I haven’t managed to change anything… So please.”
Her wet eyes, her fragile voice, that ghost of a smile on her lips—all of it left me unable to speak. All that came out was air.
“Hikki…” Yuigahama tugged at my sleeve.
Still trying to respond, I let out a long breath to rein in my shaking and finally managed to nod. I meant to say okay, but I don’t know how much of my voice even got out. But she had heard me anyway.
Yukinoshita smiled, nodded at me, and rose to her feet. “I’m going back to the student council room to consider how to deal with this moving forward.” She bowed to Miss Hiratsuka, then started walking. There was no hesitation or faltering in her stride as she left the reception room without turning back. Isshiki jumped off the sofa as well, bowing and hurrying after Yukinoshita.
Once the two of them were gone, Miss Hiratsuka let out a sigh like air coming out of a tire and lit another cigarette. “Hikigaya. Let’s talk again later. Go home for today. Yuigahama and Haruno, too,” she said with a puff of smoke and a harsh, tired smile.
“…I’ll do that,” I replied, with the sense that my face mirrored hers. Extremely tired and extremely bitter.
It was too much trouble to put on my coat, so I held it and my bag under my arm as I gave Haruno a nod and stood from the sofa. I had to get moving, no matter what it took, or the exhaustion and despondency would keep me here forever.
Beside me, Yuigahama was there, getting ready to go. I turned my face toward her, speaking as gently as possible and smiling as best I could. “…See you, then.”
“Huh?” Yuigahama’s chin rose, and for an instant, she seemed surprised. But she appeared to quickly intuit my intention. She swallowed her bewilderment, grinned, and replied, “…Ah, yeah. See you…”
I took advantage of her kindness, giving a listless nod back at her, and left the reception room.
I wasn’t confident I could have a real conversation with Yuigahama at that moment. It would’ve been better if I just couldn’t speak—worst case, I’d run my mouth and say things I shouldn’t say or shouldn’t ask.
I left the school building, practically dragging my heavy legs as I headed for the parking lot. I unlocked my bike and pushed the old creaking and groaning machine toward the back entrance. It wasn’t just my legs that felt leaden—my bicycle, body, and mood were all weighing me down. Hell, even my shoulders.
I felt a tug and turned around to see Haruno Yukinoshita, who’d apparently come running to me, with a hand on my shoulder as she let out a breath. “I caught up with you! Walk me back,” she said, pretending to wipe the sweat off her forehead melodramatically. Then she just came right up by my side and started walking with me. Frankly, I was already exhausted, so I couldn’t bring myself to fight it.
“Is just to the station okay?” I asked.
“Yeah… Since we were all there, I wanted to go back with Gahama-chan. But when I tried to invite her, she slipped away from me. She’s got a good intuition, really.”
“So do they usually try to run?” I quipped with a dry ha-ha.
But she giggled and shot back, “I don’t usually let them get away.”
One idiot with bad intuition had been trapped like this, so perhaps you could say Yuigahama, who had eluded the net, had good intuition.
Haruno gave an appreciative hmmm. “She really is sharp. She understands everything. Yukino-chan’s thoughts, how she really feels, eeeverything.”
I couldn’t let that slide, and my feet stopped. I found myself turning toward Haruno.
She chuckled. “Oh, I guess it’s not just her intuition that’s good. She’s got a good face, personality, and figure, too… She really is a good girl, huh?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She’d weirdly emphasized that last part, and I’d sensed she was smirking, too. The comment was malicious.
But even after I pointed that out, Haruno didn’t seem in the least ashamed, hopping up onto the curb and facing me. “Oh? Doesn’t that depend on who hears it? It’s your fault for taking it that way.”
“…You have a point.”
What Haruno had just said seemed clearly insulting. But it’s true I have the bad habit of reading too deeply into what people say. So she wasn’t wrong about this.
Haruno stepped carefully along the curb as if walking on a balance beam and stabbed a finger at me. “Yep! So you’re a bad boy, Hikigaya! Or maybe a boy who thinks he’s a bad one. Who always thinks he’s wrong… Just like right now.”
She grinned as if to say, Got you! then hopped down from the curb. “And Yukino-chan is…,” Haruno began, then suddenly raised her face to the red of dusk. Her eyes narrowed, as if the sky had burned her with its brilliance. “…a normal girl, you know. She likes cute things and cats, she’s scared of ghosts and heights, she’s worries about who she is… You’d find a girl like that anywhere.” She cocked her head to the side in a silent question: Did you know? But she didn’t say that out loud, of course, so I tilted my head back. No, I don’t.
I didn’t know if Yukino Yukinoshita could be called a normal girl. Beautiful, elegant, intelligent, athletic, etc., etc.—if you were to list every way in which she surpassed the rest, you’d go on forever. I think Haruno Yukinoshita, being the Perfect Devil Superhuman she was, was about the only person who could call her normal. Most people would see her as a totally different kind of creature.
At least, I’ve never thought of Yukino Yukinoshita as a normal girl.
But this sort of voiceless answer to a voiceless question did not meet the approval of the Perfect Devil Superhuman, and she sulked at me. She strode right up to me and glared. “Yukino-chan is a normal girl… Well, Gahama-chan is, too.”
Haruno and I were face-to-face, with the bars of my bike between us. You may be forgetting this, but I am a normal boy, so when a pretty older lady gets this close to me, I get nervous. As my cheeks burned, I turned my face away just as she murmured softly, “…But when the three of you get together, you each play your own roles, huh?”
I didn’t see her expression, but her sympathy and sadness showed in her voice. That lonely, gentle sound surprised me, and I looked right back at her again—but there was the usual Perfect Devil Superhuman fortified armor shell. Her face was frighteningly beautiful, and her smile was malicious.
“Now then, time for a question. What do you call the relationship between these three people?” She circled back around in front of my bike and leaned her forearms on the bars and front basket. I couldn’t go back, and I couldn’t go forward. She was staring coyly at me; she wouldn’t let me go until I answered.
“…A good kid, a bad kid, and a normal kid? Is this the Imo-Kin Trio?”
“Boo. Wrong. I’m talking about your relationship.”
The answer may have been wrong, but I had answered the question, more or less. But Haruno wouldn’t release me, nor would she tell me the right response. …So then I can’t leave until I answer? Or until I give Haruno what she wants? Or is it the same question she asked in the reception room?
But if you’ve got a hint as to what sort of thing Haruno would like, then it wasn’t anything that difficult.
The problem was that saying it was difficult. That was why it took so much time to brace myself. And all the while, Haruno was staring right into my eyes, making my task even harder. When I finally spit it out, I wound up surreptitiously turning my face away, and my voice squeaked.
“………………Like a…l-love triangle.”
Haruno gave me a blank look. Mouth half-open, she tilted her head like, What? But suddenly it clicked; she spurted and then burst into loud laughter. “Ah-ha-ha-ha! So that’s how you see it! Pff! And you said it yourself! That’s hilarious! Ah-ha-ha! Ohhh man, my stomach hurts! I’m gonna pull a muscle, ow, ow, ow, ah-ha!”
“You’re laughing too hard…”
Haruno released my bicycle, still holding her side as she kept on laughing. As my self-respect and self-consciousness were ground down to dust, I wanted to go home immediately. But I did have to ask, just in case. “Um, is that…the right answer?”
“Huh? The right answer? Ahhh, the right answer, huh…? The answer is…” Haruno wiped away the beading tears in the corners of her eyes, beckoned me with little motions of her hand, and put the other hand softly to her own lips. Come listen. Though I wondered why it was necessary to be so secretive about it, I leaned forward.
Her face drew close. A sweet scent reminiscent of flower nectar drifted past my nose, and the soft breath of her chuckle stroked my cheek.
It was so ticklish, I turned away instinctively. But Haruno took my chin with her other hand and wouldn’t let me. Holding me fast, she brought her lips close to my ear to murmur, “It’s called codependency.”
The chill in her whisper felt more like truth than any “something real.”
I had a dim grasp on the meaning of the term itself. I’d read before in some book that it was when you and another person are excessively reliant on your relationship, when you’re addicted to being a captive in that relationship.
“I told you before that it’s not trust.” She giggled gleefully, and then suddenly her smile twisted obscenely. “Feels good to have her need you, doesn’t it?”
Her enchanting voice hit my earlobes, and my skull tingled. I remembered now—there’d been more written in that book. What makes it codependency is not just the one depending, but the one being relied on as well. Being needed by someone is where they find their own value in being, gaining a sense of satisfaction and peace of mind.
As the mental images from every word tied themselves to my circumstances, it felt like the ground under my feet was shifting.
I’d been told many times. It had been pointed out to me that I was spoiling people without being aware of it. I’d been told I seemed happy to be relied on. And every time, I’d gone on about how I have a big brother nature or it’s my job, so that’s the way it was.
I felt nauseated with shame and self-loathing. How ugly and shallow, to play up my status as the aloof loner, while I was actually not so displeased about people making requests of me. I even felt pleasure from it. In so doing, I reinforced my raison d’être—it was beyond disgusting. I enjoyed being relied on without even knowing it. I wanted it, to a slight degree. Then when they didn’t want that from me, I would tell myself I was just feeling a little lonely. What a repulsive, despicable character.
And then I was making excuses to myself through self-criticism, which was sincerely gross. I felt as if something under my ears was cramping, and saliva overflowed inside my mouth. I swallowed it down and let out a ragged breath.
If you wanted to call Yukinoshita’s and my relationship codependent, then yeah. It was. And even if she wasn’t actually relying on me, my old self would’ve wondered what was wrong with me, the way I’d been acting lately. If I was going to do some kind of codependency check now, a number of items would fit.
A sneer passed across Haruno’s face, and then she immediately went off ahead. When I dragged myself after her, we eventually arrived at a small path by the park between the school and the station. Haruno glanced up at the wintry-looking trees on the boulevard, still barren of buds, leaves, or flowers, and murmured, “But that’s now over. Yukino-chan will go on to become independent and grow up a little.” Her proud words, her happy tone, and her sad profile as she spoke of her little sister gave me a sense of déjà vu. She’d said something similar on a night a little colder than this one.
Just like now, she’d been walking a few steps ahead of me as she had been talking about that.
I clearly remembered what she’d said then. Sometimes I would notice that and jokingly pretend I didn’t, act smart, put on a show of throwing it away, and pat myself on the back for doing the right thing, but I’d never forgotten it, in the end.
The sun was descending, and the city was submerged in the twilight. Before I knew it, the path had come to an end, and we were approaching the main street in front of the station. At sundown, it was filled with people hurrying to and fro.
“This is far enough. See you,” Haruno said with a casual wave, and she strode off.
“Um…” Staring at her feet, I called out to her hoarsely.
Haruno turned back to me midstep. She tilted her head with a grin and wordlessly asked for me to continue. It was so gentle that for a moment, my breath caught.
“So…what will she give up to become an adult?”
That smile, so much like hers, crinkled in sadness. “…A lot. About as much as me.”
She hadn’t told me a single thing, and yet her short answer could not possibly be clearer.
Haruno Yukinoshita disappeared into the crowd.
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