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7

In the end, Rumi Tsurumi chooses her own path.

They were calling it a spooky forest, but it was still just a school camping trip event. We obviously weren’t going to employ any serious makeup or visual effects. It was the sort of simple setup that everyone vaguely remembers: making recordings of voices chanting Buddhist sutras, shaking trees under cover of night, putting on masks, chasing the kids around.

The forest at night was scary enough on its own, though. The stirring trees sounded like the voices of otherworldly beings, and when the wind blew, you felt the dead caress your cheeks.

That was how the forest felt around us as we performed preliminary inspection of the course, nailing down our plans for the evening as we went. We did a basic check over the whole thing and then left a stack of talismans printed on straw paper at the end on top of a thermometer screen decorated to look like a small wayside shrine. The kids’ mission would be to take one of these back.

Though the course had already been prepared, we still checked over any potentially dangerous points to make sure the kids wouldn’t get confused and end up lost. We consulted each other briefly as we proceeded, throwing out suggestions like Let’s put a person dressed as a ghost here, or Let’s put a traffic cone here to make sure they don’t go past this point. I wasn’t participating in the conversation, but I was mapping the whole thing out in my head. Mappy knows all about that. Mappy knows that road is a dead end.

When we came back to the starting line, Yukinoshita got the inevitable conversation started. “So what are we going to do?” she asked. That question was not in regards to the spooky-forest event itself. She was asking how we were going to help Rumi Tsurumi. All those who had been so active with their suggestions before now had nothing to say.

It was a difficult problem. Just paying lip service to the idea that everyone should be friends would have absolutely no effect, and more important, telling the kids something of that nature might temporarily smooth things over, but ultimately, the same thing would recur.

For example, let’s say Hayama were to draw Rumi into the center of the group and use various social techniques to protect her. He was popular, so everyone might be friendly with her for a while. But Hayama wouldn’t be able to stay with her 24/7. You had to strike at the root of the problem. But at this point, we had failed to come up with a clear answer.

Cautiously, Hayama spoke. “Perhaps all we can do is have Rumi talk to the other girls. We could create an environment for them to talk.”

“They’ll all probably still bully her anyway…,” Yuigahama said, her gaze on the ground.

But Hayama didn’t back down. “Then what if she talked to them one by one?”

“It’d be exactly the same. They might act nice at the time, but secretly, it would just start up again. Girls are way scarier than you realize, Hayato,” Ebina said in a shiver-inducing tone. That made even Hayama fall silent.

“What, are you for real? That’s so scary!” For some reason, that freaked out Miura. Well, she was the type to be straight about whatever was on her mind. Maybe being the queen for so long means you don’t get involved in these shadowy politics.

Either way, being a normie sounds like a pain in the butt. So it’s not just the good stuff you’re supposed to share with your friends, but the bad stuff, too, huh? Well, I guess in this case, they’re just sacrificing her on the altar of the status quo, though.

Something had to be done about that. “I have an idea,” I announced.

“Forget it.” Yukinoshita immediately rejected it.

“You jumped to that conclusion way too fast…,” I said. “You’d really be bad at buying real estate.” Spend some more time deliberating over it, come on. “Well, just listen. We’ve got this spooky-forest thing going on. This is a great opportunity to take advantage of.”

“How would we do that?” Totsuka tilted his head.

I decided to ease in to my proposal in order to explain it as thoroughly as possible for Totsuka. “There’s a certain something that happens very often during spooky-forest treks. You get my drift?” I said.

Everyone was slow on the uptake, though. I doubted Ebina was listening at all. Yuigahama was hmming in thought, but then she clapped her hands. “Oh! Everyone gets all jumpy and scared because of the spasibo effect? And that makes them feel closer?”

“I think you probably mean the placebo effect.” Hayama smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They were too full of pity.

“…More important, the phenomenon you’re referring to is the suspension bridge effect,” Yukinoshita said, quietly lowering her gaze in grief. Suddenly the mood was grim, like this was a memorial service in remembrance of Yui Yuigahama.

“Wh-whatever! The important part is the idea!” Yuigahama rattled on, blushing.

“The idea’s no good, either,” I said. “Think about what often happens during spooky-forest treks.”

“…Being startled and dying of fright, huh?” said Yukinoshita. “That wouldn’t leave any physical evidence, it’s true, and I believe you could explain it away by calling it an accident. But to go to such lengths… It’s inhuman.” The look she gave me was full of reproach.

“Wrong. You’re the one with the inhuman ideas…” I cleared my throat and announced the correct answer. “What I’m getting at is that while you’re busy trying to take photos of ghosts, you’ll bump into a delinquent who’s halfway through, and then he ends up chasing you around.”

“That doesn’t happen.” Yukinoshita shut me down.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Hayama agreed.

“Shut up. Yes it does,” I said.

Indeed, that gloomy girl who had been like, I can sense spirits… (for some reason, there’s one like that in every class) had set the chain of events in motion. And then I’d been like, Well, I can sense spirits, too, can’t I? Or it’d be cool if I could. And I had gone off to try to take photos of ghosts, and then it happened.

What I had ended up finding was not a wandering soul but rather a clique of delinquents. They had also apparently been in the middle of their trek, and when I encountered them with particularly poor timing, I had scared the crap out of them, resulting in some unjustified resentment on their part, and they had chased me around, and then, well…that’s enough of this story.

Yukinoshita sighed in exasperation. “…This isn’t building up to the worn-out platitude that plain flesh-and-blood humans are the scariest of all, is it?”

“Delinquents are scary, though!” Komachi was nodding vigorously. But…

“Close, but no cigar,” I replied. “While it’s true that humans are indeed the most frightening, the object of fear in this scenario is not the delinquents.”

“Then what is?” Yukinoshita asked.

I paused for effect before I replied. “What’s really scary are the people who are most familiar to you. You sort of trust them, so you don’t expect them to betray you. It’s terrifying because it’s unexpected. In the case of these girls, well, I’d say friends are the scariest.” I was explaining in a straightforward manner, but they still weren’t getting it. “Let me be more specific.” It’s not that complicated. “People reveal their true nature in extreme situations. If they feel really, truly afraid, they’ll do whatever they can to protect their own hides. People are incapable of considering others. They want to save themselves, even if it means making sacrifices. And once people have revealed the ugly side of themselves to one another, they can’t be friends anymore. That’s all you have to do to rip the group apart.” I explained the plan dispassionately, but the reactions from the crowd were lacking. Nothing but grim silence.

“If they all become loners, there won’t be any more fighting or conflict.” My point was already made, but I still hammered it home.

“Wh-whoa…,” said Yuigahama. By the time I was done, she was rather freaked out. Yukinoshita was glaring at me with her eyes so narrow they were practically slits.

“You’re pretty twisted, Hikitani…,” said Hayama. And he was the kind of guy who never said anything bad about anyone.

I sort of wanted to cry. I hadn’t experienced a reaction as harsh as this since that time in elementary school when it was my turn to take care of the class crayfish, but then they cannibalized one another until all of them were dead, and then everyone blamed me for it at the class meeting.

Totsuka was the only one nodding with fascination. “You come up with so many ideas, Hachiman.” Coming from anyone else, that would have sounded sarcastic, but Totsuka being Totsuka, I could honestly trust that the compliment was sincere. If it were anything else, I think I might have destroyed the world.

Yukinoshita deliberated for a while. “It’s not like we have any other ideas… In this case, I don’t think we have any other choice.” Through process of elimination, she seemed to have reached a decision. This was what we had to work with. There wasn’t likely much else we could try.

Hayama didn’t seem happy about it, though. “…But that won’t resolve the situation, will it?”

He was right. This wasn’t the right answer. I knew full well that this was all wrong. “But it will cancel it out.” I raised my head.

Hayama was looking me straight in the eye. His gaze was so direct, it was uncomfortable. I looked away. But I wasn’t wrong.

When you have problems with your social relationships, if you destroy the bond, then you won’t have anything to worry about anymore. You can avoid that downward spiral by cutting the whole thing off at the source. That’s the best way to handle things.

Saying you can’t run away—that’s just the rationale of the strong. The world is wrong, for forcing that mind-set on people. Claiming It’s not my fault, it’s the world that’s the problem may sound like an excuse, but it’s not entirely wrongheaded. It’s not always your fault. There are many times when it’s society, the world, your surroundings, someone else that’s wrong. If no one else is going to recognize that, then I’ll be the one to do it.

Hayama gave me a long, hard look. But then he broke into a smile. “So that’s the way you see it… I think I’m starting to get why she’d look out for you.”

I was just about to ask who the she he was referring to was, but he immediately got back on topic. “Okay. Let’s go with that… But I’ll be betting on the chance that they’ll all come together to handle the situation. If this is about their true nature, I want to believe that is their true nature. I think they’re all good kids at heart.”

I was unable to reply to that effulgent smile. We were always in on it for different reasons, even when it was the exact same plan.

“What? I’m the one getting screwed with this plan!” complained Miura.

“Totally. It’s too harsh for me, too,” agreed Tobe.

“Come on, you guys.” Hayama pacified them and then faced me again. “We’ll go with your idea, Hikitani. I’ll let you handle the direction.” For some reason, he said the final word in English.

“…All right,” I replied. Hayama’s role in this would be an unpleasant one, but he’d agreed to do it anyway. So I had no choice but to respond to his spirit in kind.

So…what does direction mean in Japanese? What should I be doing right now?

When it was time to do the prep for the test of courage, Miss Hiratsuka called us all together in a room of the lodge and announced our mission. “They’ve requested that you tell some ghost stories in order to get the kids in the mood for the haunted forest.”

Where there’s a haunted anything, there’s ghost stories. We’d get them worked up by telling some thrilling tales, and their ensuing fear might lead them to see ghosts. There’s a saying: A ghost seen is naught but leaves. It means that people imagine the abnormal just because they’re afraid.

You could even say that most supernatural phenomena are born from such false impressions and misconstructions. In other words, both the bowl of hot miso soup slowly gliding across the table and that sensation that there are still a few kernels of corn potage stuck in the pull-tab can are such errors. There’s nothing supernatural about the world we live in.

“Do any of you have any special ghost stories?” she asked.

We all looked at one another.

Well, none of us are professionals like Storyteller Tamori, so we didn’t have much. Aside from me, Tobe was the only one to raise his hand.

“Hmm,” said Miss Hiratsuka. “Tobe…and Hikigaya, huh? There’s a frightening combo. Tell me your stories.”

If we were going to work the kids over for their haunted trek with spooky stories, then we’d be presenting in front of two classes of thirty, totaling sixty. We really couldn’t afford to bomb our presentation. After borrowing one of the rooms in the lodge, we sat in a circle. We picked up some candles, too, to give it some atmosphere. Tobe and I both eyed each other silently to decide who would go first. I don’t know if Tobe picked up on my cues or what, but he humbly raised his hand. “So, I’ll go first…,” he said.

The lights in the room were already off, and the only source of illumination was a few flickering and unreliable candles. A lukewarm draft blew in through where the window was open a crack, making the flames tremble and distorting the faint shadows they cast.

“This is about an older kid I know,” Tobe began. “He was sort of like a street racer. One day, he was zipping through this pass all alone like usual, and he got pulled over by the police. He wasn’t speeding at the time, which was strange. The policewoman came out of her cruiser and told him, ‘You can’t carry a passenger on your bike without a helmet… Huh? Where did that woman riding on the back go?’

“But this guy always rode alone. He never had any passengers. So…what on earth was it that she saw? A few days later…” Tobe wiped the sweat off his forehead and gulped. “He had a dansu with baddo rakku…”

He ruined it all with that ending. What’s with the random English…?

The entire audience reacted with disappointment, but Tobe soldiered on. He’s made of some sturdy stuff. “Now he’s a dad with two kids. He stopped street racing, got a job, married the officer who stopped him that day, and now he’s part of a happy family. These days he says his wife is scarier than any ghost.”

“I didn’t ask for weak comedy…,” Miss Hiratsuka grumbled.

Heh, good grief. You can’t call something like that a ghost story. I’ll teach you the real meaning of fear.

“I’ll go next, then,” I said, pulling a candle in front of me. The flame flickered, and the candles cast an array of shadow clones across the wall. I’m gonna tell you all a real scary story now, believe it!

“This is a true story…” I began with the conventional line, and the chatter around me subsided. The sound of everyone breathing was particularly loud to my ears. “It happened when I was on a camping trip in elementary school. We were doing the same walk through the haunted forest that they do every year. Yes, it was a warm summer night…just like this one.

“We were supposed to split up into groups to go pick up talismans from the small shrine deep in the woods. Each team went in order, and finally, it was our turn. They were calling this a spooky forest, sure, but in reality, the teachers had just set it up. There were no real ghosts. We cowered at scarecrows and teachers draped in sheets, retrieved the talisman from the shrine, and made it back without a hitch. Nothing happened. It was just a good time, an opportunity to screech and scream. Or so I thought. But then Yamashita, a guy in my group, happened to say something.

“‘Who grabbed the talisman?’ he asked.

“That threw the group into an uproar.

“‘Was it you?’ they asked.

“‘No, it wasn’t me.’

“‘Not me… Then who was it?’ Not a single person in the group knew who had taken the talisman.

“Terror filled my heart. I was trembling so hard I could almost cry. Because…” I trailed off there, all eyes locked on me. Or perhaps the object of their focus was something else—the clouds of pitch-black darkness billowing out behind me. “…Nobody had noticed that I was the one who had taken the talisman…” I finished the story and blew out the candle.

In the dead silence of the room, I heard Yuigahama sigh. “That’s just a loner story…”

“It would have been a lot more terrifying to hear you were friends with everyone in that group.” Yukinoshita shot me a chilly glare. She was completely right, and there was nothing I could say to that.

“Good grief.” Miss Hiratsuka exhaled a deep, deep sigh. “Are those pathetic attempts the best you kids can come up with?”

“Hey, come on,” I replied. “You can’t just ask an amateur to conjure up a scary story out of the blue. It’s not gonna happen…”

“Hmm… It’s a desirable skill for an adult, though. At drinking parties, people are going to want you to tell funny stories. It’s always a good idea to polish those skills. It helps you grease the wheels of your professional relationships.”

I was shocked. I-it can’t be… “Wh-what did you say? I don’t think that’d be possible for me. I think, for the sake of everyone out there in the workplace, it’d be best for me to never, ever get a job at all.”

“What a perverse way to express your concern… Well, let me show you how it’s done, then.” Miss Hiratsuka lit the candle.

I suppose she did have the wisdom of age. Finally, we could hear a ghost story from an adult. The audience all turned expectant eyes toward Miss Hiratsuka, as if to say, Tell us a story, one we don’t know! Trembling, trembling…

Miss Hiratsuka returned all those gazes with a bold smile and slowly began. “This is about someone I suppose I’d call a close friend. Her name was Haruka Kinoshita. But then, about five years ago, Haruka Kinoshita was no more… Right before she disappeared, she left me with a single phrase: I’m going first. Then she was gone. I never saw her again.

“But just a few days ago, I met a woman who looked somehow familiar. She seemed exhausted, but she wore a faint smile. It was the woman who had disappeared, or so I thought. I was about to call out to her, but then I saw a face behind her, grinning…” As she recounted her tale, Miss Hiratsuka’s face blanched. It was as if the terror of that moment had returned. Her expression was so chilling, it sent shivers down our spines as well.

“…The baby on her back was already three years old. It was truly horrifying.” Miss Hiratsuka blew out the candle before her, and the room went black.

I couldn’t help but break the stone-cold silence of the room. “She just got married, changed her surname, and had a baby…”

Someone please marry this woman, seriously. Otherwise I’m going to feel so sorry for her, I’ll marry her myself.

In the end, we just weren’t any good at telling tales of fright, so we unanimously agreed that would play the Ghost Stories DVD that someone had left at the lodge.

While the kids were occupied with the DVD, we were steadily setting up their trek. As Yukinoshita’s group was getting ready, Hayama called me over to discuss the details of our plan. We outlined the plan and its most important points and then started hammering out the details.

“It’d be best to make sure Rumi’s group is going at the right time,” Hayama said.

“Yeah. It’ll probably take a while, so we should make them go last,” I replied. “So do we fix the lottery draw?”

“No, that’s not very practical, and it would take time. We’ll just tell them when they have to go. Yeah…we can just say it’s so the kids will never know what’s coming. That it’ll make it more exciting.”

My briefing session with Hayama went extremely smoothly. I like to think my brain is made of the good stuff, but talking to him, I felt like he was one step ahead. Even delivering flimsy excuses, he seemed so cool, like everything was all well and good. It was weird.

“…All right, I’ll let you handle that,” I said.

“Roger. Who’s going to lead them there?”

“I’ll use traffic cones and stuff to herd them down the path toward the dead end,” I explained. “You guys just have to be waiting back there.”

“Got it. Also, about Tobe and Yumiko, I don’t think either of them is capable of remembering overly detailed instructions.”

Yeah, they seem like they’d be bad at memorization. “Just give them directions via cell phone. It wouldn’t look off for them to be goofing around on their phones. In fact, the more time they spend doing that, the more realistic it’ll be.”

“I see…” Hayama’s fingers danced over the surface of his tablet typing out the details. It really did make him look competent.

You know, though, talking is easy when it’s about work. You don’t have to try to come up with topics, and you don’t have to agonize over how the other person might feel. It’s nice; you’re even allowed to be harsh when it’s necessary for the task at hand.

“I guess that’s about it,” he said. “I’ll tell Tobe and Yumiko.”

“Thanks.” They probably wouldn’t listen to anything coming from me anyway.

“Then I’ll see you later,” he replied, finishing up the session, and we parted ways. He was going over to set things up with Miura and Tobe, and I would help Yukinoshita’s group with their preparations.

There wasn’t really much to set up, though, and it wasn’t like we were gearing up for anything elaborate. We were basically just startling the kids as they walked around the woods at night. These events don’t really focus on concept and detail like haunted houses do. It’s more about the impact and making it into a game. Especially since these kids were just elementary schoolers. They’d have more fun if it felt more like a theme park experience as opposed to having some sort of cohesive narrative. Bluntly speaking, they’d have the most fun if we just sprang out at them from the darkness to scare them. During the spooky forest on my school trip back in elementary school, a bunch of unfamiliar old dudes were jumping out at me, then in another area voices were suddenly chanting sutras, and at the end, bedsheet ghosts were staggering around. It was total chaos.

Facilities that often host school camping trips, such as this one, always have the relevant creepy props on hand, and the teachers should have collected some things, too. And they did have stuff, but…when I saw what they had for us, I held my head in my hands.

“A demon costume…cat ears and a tail…a white yukata…a witch hat, robe, and cape…a priestess outfit…” This was going a little too far, even for a theme-park-style performance. This was more like Halloween.

Miss Hiratsuka had said the provider of the costumes was an elementary school teacher. There were no two ways about it: I was positive that the one responsible just wanted to see teenage girls in cosplay. It made me want to be a teacher…

First, there was Ebina’s priestess outfit. Despite being a member of Miura’s clique, she had an established reputation as the modest one, so traditional garb suited her. But in my opinion, the costume was less scary and more vaguely mystical. Maybe she would present a more ghastly picture if we had her stand out by the wayside shrine.

As I considered where each person might be stationed, I looked around to see how everyone else was doing. That was when I caught sight of Totsuka, tugging the brim of his pointy hat down over his eyes. He plucked at the sleeves and the hem of his robe, muttering in confusion. “Does a magician count as a monster…?”

“Well, if you’re speaking as broadly as possible, I guess so,” I said. He was clearly a witch girl, though. Sharanran.

“But it’s not scary, is it?”

“No, it’s scary. You’re fine.”

Yes, truly frightening. I’m about to head straight down the Totsuka route right now—terrifying. Phew…are you the one who cast that naughty spell on me? What am I even saying?

“Bro! Bro!”

Someone was tapping on my shoulder, though it was softer than a tap. When I turned around, a stuffed animal–esque cat paw was beckoning me. “What’s that? A monster cat?” I asked.

“Probably…”

I think there was something like that in one of those big-time musicals… That was what my little sister reminded me of, standing there. Komachi was covered in black fake fur, sprouting cat ears and a cat tail.

“I don’t really get it, but it’s cute, so whatever,” I said. A pretty girl looks nice no matter what she wears. She’d probably even be cute in a mobile suit. Source: the Nobel Gundam in G-Gundam.

As Komachi waved her gigantic kitty paws, experimenting with the appropriate gestures, a ghostlike figure quietly materialized behind her.

“…” Without a word, the specter reached out to Komachi’s kitty ears.

Smoosh, smoosh.

“U-um…Yukino?”

Pet, pet.

Yukinoshita grabbed the tail next.

Brush, brush.

Then she nodded. What? What are you approving of here? Enough with that look on your face, like you’re evaluating antiques on Nandemo Kanteidan. I feel like she’s gonna bust out with a line like, “Oh, well done there.”

“…I think it’s quite nice,” she said. “It suits you.”

“Thank you very much!” Komachi replied. “You look amazing, too, Yukino! Right, Bro?”

“Yeah,” I said. “You look damn good in a kimono. Just like a yuki-onna. You look ready to kill a whole bunch of people.”

“…Was that supposed to be a compliment?” Yukinoshita’s eyebrows twitched upward.

A sudden chill slid down my spine. “Yeah, that’s it, that icy feeling. Exactly like a deadly spirit of the snow. That outfit suits you, it really does.” I complimented her as hard as I could.

Yukinoshita swept her hair off her shoulders and glowered at me. “That zombie outfit suits you, too, Hikigaya. The way your eyes are rotting is fit for Hollywood.”

“I’m not wearing any makeup or anything, though…” I shot Yukinoshita a casual but leaden-eyed glare, but she gave as good as she got. I broke the eye contact before I could stop myself. Scary.

 

 

 

 

My gaze escaped to land on Yuigahama, who was fidgeting in a devil costume. She grinned broadly at the mirror, but then she suddenly shook her head as if she’d changed her mind, sighed, hung her head, and jumped straight into an excited series of poses, like a first-time cosplayer the night before a con.

“You’re keeping yourself busy, I see,” I said to her.

“Oh! Hikki…” Yuigahama wrapped her arms around herself as if to hide. Her expression betrayed some self-doubt. “…Hey…”

I waited for her to continue and held my eyes level, though they wanted to slip downward.

“U-um…what do you think?” she asked.

“If it looked terrible, I’d tell you, and I’d be making all sorts of jokes right now… It’s too bad I can’t.”

“Huh? Um…” Yuigahama considered for a moment, but I guess she got my meaning, as she gave me a triumphant chuckle. “You could’ve just given me a straight compliment… Jerk!” Yuigahama cheerfully insulted me and then turned back to the mirror with even more pleasure than before.

Komachi must have been watching the whole thing, if her smug smile was any indication. “You’re a hinedere, Bro.”

Twisted on the outside, squishy on the inside—is that what she’s trying to say? “Stop making up weird slang.” But despite my protests, I had an indescribable feeling that it was futile.

That was when Hayama’s group came back. Looking over at them, I could see that Miura and Tobe were ready to go. Miura wasn’t even wearing a costume, but she was still scary. Ultimately, she was just a perpetual object of terror.

“Hayama,” I called out to him.

He nodded at me and then spoke. “All right, let’s go over this one last time.”

It wasn’t long before the spooky-forest trek would begin. It was going to leave a bitter aftertaste, no matter what, and we all knew that nothing good would come of it, but even so, none of us was able to stop it. The episode just continued along its course.

There was a bonfire burning at the starting point—for atmosphere, I guess. When the flames spread to the green wood on the pile, the fire crackled loudly, throwing off sparks.

“All right! Next up are…you guys!” When Komachi singled out a group, the children screeched and squealed. Clearly excited, they stood, and the entire group headed toward the starting point. We were already about thirty minutes into the test of courage. I estimated that about 70 percent of the kids had already started.

Hayama’s idea of choosing the order of the groups on the spot instead of deciding beforehand was working well. I caught flashes of anxiety on the faces of the kids as they waited eagerly for their group’s turn. Even Hayama breathed a sigh of relief as he saw it was successful. Then he immediately whispered something into Miura’s and Tobe’s ears. Maybe he was discussing the final stages of the plan.

“Once you’re in, head to the shrine deep in the woods and get a talisman from the shrine there.” Totsuka, in his witch costume, stood by the entrance to the forest as he explained the simple rules. He had been nervous at first, and he’d screwed up the lines a bunch, but once he sent off a few groups and got into a groove, he was doing just fine, as you can see.

It would probably be okay to leave this part to Komachi and Totsuka. Besides, Miss Hiratsuka was there, too, so there shouldn’t be any major mishaps.

I covertly leaped into action to observe the kids’ progress on their trek. While I was at it, I would also go check on how the other members of our team were doing. I walked hidden in the trees for a while, so as not to alert the children to my presence.

Yuigahama was stationed near the beginning of the trail. When the kids passed by her location, she jumped out at them from the shadows. “Grr! I’ll eat you up!”

…What’s with that scare? Is she trying to be Gachapin? Of course, the kids were not in the least bit scared at some stupid-looking girl jumping out at them. They ran away, laughing their heads off.

Once they were gone, Yuigahama’s shoulders drooped, and she sniffled. “I kind of…feel like an idiot…”

Poor thing… I didn’t know what to say to her, so I decided to just leave her there for the time being. Taking a shortcut through the trees, I circled around her and forged ahead. On my way, I heard the kids talking loudly. Their chatter consisted of comments like “Man, this is dull,” or “This isn’t scary at all” and uproarious laughter. I don’t think they were actually scared. But when I made some rustling, their voices grew hushed all at once.

“What was that just now?”

“I saw something.”

“There’s nothing there…,” I heard one of them say.

Nothing is scarier than the unknown. I quickly left the area before they caught sight of me.

Deep in the forest, the path was darker, and that alone was enough to make every hair on your body stand on end. Though it was summer, the evenings at high altitude are chilly. You couldn’t be quite sure if it was just cold out or if the presence of some mysterious entity was giving you shivers.

Fickle moonlight and starlight illuminated the path. I continued on, following a bend in the trail. Ahead of me was a white shadow. The light filtering through the gaps between the tree branches highlighted her chalky skin, and the blowing wind made her outline undulate like something ethereal.

I couldn’t speak. It wasn’t because I was frightened. I was entranced, frozen in place by a crisp, terrifyingly icy beauty. Her gorgeousness seemed like a taboo, something forbidden to approach or even speak of, never mind touch.

I bet there were many other of her kind, in the past. Then people passed down tales, and somewhere along the line, their stories gave birth to actual supernatural beings. Seeing her evoked such speculations anyway.

Yukino Yukinoshita was simply standing there like a ghost, as if in a daze. Her body was enveloped in silvery moonlight and solemn, frigid wind. Time was frozen for no more than a few seconds before she realized someone was there and turned around. Her eyes landed on me in the shadow of the trees.

“Eek!” Yukinoshita jumped about a meter backward, startled to see me appear all of a sudden. “Hiki…gaya?” She blinked a few times and then breathed a sigh of relief.

Why did she have to freak out like that…? She made my heart skip a beat, too. “Hey,” I greeted her.

“I thought you were a ghost… Your eyes look so dead.”

What an uncute reaction. I let slip a sarcastic smile. “I thought there was no such thing as ghosts.”

“Indeed, there isn’t.”

“You seemed pretty scared, though,” I said.

Yukinoshita gave me a sharp, sullen glare before she started babbling. “Of course I wasn’t scared. When you expect something to be there, your brain automatically creates images for your visual cortex, and it’s a biological fact that those suppositions induce effects in the body. So there’s no such thing as ghosts—to put it another way, if you believe there’s no such thing, then it must be true. I’m positive.”

That sounded suspiciously like an excuse…especially that I’m positive at the end.

“Anyway, how much longer will this be?” she asked.

“We’re about seventy percent done. It’s almost over.”

“…I see. I have to stay here for a little while longer, huh?” She sighed. That was when we heard a rustling sound, a swaying in the undergrowth. Yukinoshita’s shoulders twitched. She really is scared, huh?

Oh, crap. I guess the kids caught up with me. Standing out here, I’d be in full view. I immediately moved to hide in the shadow of the trees, but I was stopped by a firm tug on my shirt. When I turned around, I saw Yukinoshita grasping the hem.

“What…?” I asked.

“Huh? Um…” She looked confused. I guess the action had been unconscious on her part. When she realized what she’d done, she quickly let go and jerked her head away. “…Nothing. More important, don’t you need to go hide right now?”

“Unfortunately, it’s a little late for that.” Before I’d had the chance to move, the kids had rounded the corner. The child in the front met my eyes. Running into a regular guy like me would absolutely destroy the mood. We’d gone to all that trouble to create this event, and I’d screwed it up.

Or so I thought. But as I watched, the children’s eyes all went wide in fright.

“A z-zombie?!”

“No, that’s a ghoul!”

“That look in his eyes! Run!” The kids sprinted away as fast as they could.

I gazed up at the starry sky with a vague desire to cry.


Yukinoshita smiled brightly and patted me on the shoulder. “Isn’t that nice? You’ve made the children so happy. Your rotten eyes have turned this into a memorable event for them, see?”

“You’re really bad at consoling people…,” I said. Way to kick me while I’m down. “Anyway, I’ve got to get going.”

“Yes, I’ll see you later.”

I left Yukinoshita behind and hurried on down the course. The kids had a head start, but if I could make my way along hidden in the trees again, I could probably come out ahead of them. Mostly ignoring the path, I pushed on toward the bonfire at the goal point.

At the minishrine at the goal, Ebina was waving a green tree branch. I guess she was using that in lieu of an actual sacred sakaki branch. “Reverence, reverence before the heavens!” she intoned.

She’s even doing a chant, huh? Wow, she’s sure set on performing this right. Y’know, since it’s a rite. Wow, I’m an idiot.

Well, I guess it might be pretty scary to see a priestess suddenly pop out and catch you by surprise. Plus, that chanting was eerie.

Ebina noticed my approach and turned around. “Oh, Hikitani.”

“Hey. You’re looking pretty damn legit.”

“I consume a lot of traditional occult stuff, too,” she replied.

“Uh-huh…” What does she mean by that? Does she ship Seimei/Douman or something? That rabbit hole is too deep. I have no idea. Regular Ebina is way scarier than some straightforward priestess cosplay. Terrified, I left her with a casual “See you!” and fled as fast as I could.

After I looped around ahead of the kids and returned to the starting point, I saw there were only two—no, three groups left. Komachi designated the next group, and they were off. Once Hayama’s crew had watched the kids leave, they set into action. “All right, Hikitani,” he said. “We’re gonna get going. We’ll be counting on you to do your part.”

“Roger.” Our extremely brief briefing was now concluded, and I watched the Hayama trio leave and waited for it to be Rumi’s group’s turn. The bonfire sizzled, ashes dancing in the wind. Children’s cries, somewhere between screams and exclamations of joy, rang out from deep in the woods.

As I waited, I observed how Rumi was doing. The girls around her were abuzz with chatter. Rumi alone had her lips pressed shut. The teacher was right in front of them, so the kids didn’t openly exclude her. They just left her out in a way that would clearly distance her from the crowd. Rumi understood that, too, so she took another step away from them. Seeing her attempt to be considerate, I felt that malaise in my chest again.

Komachi pulled her cell phone from her pocket and checked the time. “…Okay! Next is…you!” One of the two remaining groups erupted into squeals. The final group let out sighs of part disappointment and part relief. Komachi and Totsuka prompted the second-to-last unit to embark. I watched them go and then covertly slipped away.

My destination was the fork in the mountain trail. That was the spot where one of the paths was blocked off by a traffic cone. Just as I had the last time, I stuck to the trees to avoid encountering the kids. The leaves, damp with night dew, were cold. As the hour grew deeper, the temperature seemed to be dropping, if slowly.

I swiftly bypassed Yuigahama’s location and smoothly bypassed Yukinoshita’s. I reached a point not far from the minishrine, where the path split into two: one that loops around the forest, and one that climbs up the mountain. I had done a bit of jogging, so I was panting a little. I slowed my breathing and then hid in the shadow of some nearby trees. It wasn’t to do any scaring; it was just to hide. The second-to-last group walked by, their rowdy voices disappearing into the distance. After I was sure they were gone, I moved the traffic cone to block off the path that went to the minishrine and open the one that didn’t.

Hayama, Miura, and Tobe were gathered along that way, which led up the mountain. I approached them with just one thing to tell them. “It’s almost time. You guys take it from here.”

“Roger,” Hayama replied shortly, sitting down on a nearby rock. Miura and Tobe followed him as if they were waiting on him.

Assured that the three of them were now on standby, I went back to the fork in the path and disappeared into the trees again. I counted two, three minutes, waiting for Rumi’s group to come. Right about then, they should have been departing.

With each passing hour, it felt like the darkness of the forest was deepening. Within the blackness, I silently closed my eyes and focused on listening. I could hear an owl hooting, branches rustling.

As I strained my ears, I twitched. I could hear voices. They sounded animated, and they were coming closer. Rumi’s voice was not among them, but once the girls had come close enough for me to confirm visually, Rumi was definitely there. She was the only one with her lips pursed. But that would end tonight. The girl at the head of the group approached the fork. She glanced curiously at the path that was blocked off by a traffic cone but continued on down the open trail. The other members of the group followed her without question. Making sure to escape detection, I waited until they were all far enough ahead and made to follow them when I heard someone softly call my name.

“What’s the situation, Hikigaya?” It was Yukinoshita. When I turned around, she and Yuigahama were both there. Rumi’s group was the last one, so the two girls were done playing their roles as monsters.

“They’re headed toward Hayama right now. I’m gonna go check it out. What about you two?”

Yukinoshita nodded. “I’m going, of course.”

Yuigahama did the same. “Me too.”

I nodded back at them, and then we slowly, quietly proceeded.

The girls were conversing in especially loud voices, as if in an attempt to drive away the darkness and the fear. As they strolled along, amusing themselves with their idle chitchat, someone cried, “Oh!”

Before them were three people. “Oh, it’s you guys!” one girl said. When they recognized Hayama and crew, they ran up to the older kids.

“You’re wearing totally normal clothes!”

“Weak!”

“At least try!”

“This whole spooky-forest thing isn’t scary at all!”

“You’re sure dumb for high schoolers!” The sight of familiar faces in normal clothing must have broken the tension of the event all at once. The kids, even more insouciant than before, complained at Hayama’s group.

But when they approached, Tobe roughly shook them off and barked in a low, aggressive voice, “The hell? You think you can talk like that to us?”

“Ew, what’s with that attitude?” Miura demanded. “It’s not like we’re your friends, you know.”

The children immediately froze. “Huh…?” I could see their minds whirling around desperately in an attempt to process what they had just heard.

But Miura just kept going without sparing them a moment to process. “And, like, one of you guys was being totally nasty to us. Which one of you said that?” she asked, but none of the kids were capable of replying. They just looked at each other. Miura clicked her tongue as if their confusion irritated her. “I’m asking who said that. One of you did it, right? Who? Can’t you even answer my question? Spit it out.”

“I’m sorry…” One of the girls apologized in a frail-sounding voice.

Miura didn’t care. She just spat, “What? I can’t hear you.”

“You kids try’na mess with us? Huh? C’mon.” Tobe glared at the girls, and they shrank away.

But the queen bee was already behind them. “C’mon, Tobe, let them have it. It’s supposed to be our job to teach them manners, right?”

The trio prevented the girls from escaping, slowly fencing them in. In only moments, Hayama, Miura, and Tobe had formed a triangle, trapping them inside.

There was Tobe, exuding a rough and violent air; Miura, every one of her words a sharp barb to hit them where it hurt; and Hayama with his unremitting cold stare, terrifying them with the unknown.

The kids had been so rambunctious before that this sudden turn in the mood felt particularly harsh. I’m sure they wanted to punch their past selves if they could for their stupidity, for getting carried away and fooling around. They had been having so much fun just a short while ago, and that was precisely what had slammed them down to rock bottom.

Tobe cracked his knuckles dramatically and clenched a fist. “Can I do it, Hayama? Can I let them have it?” At Hayama’s name, the girls all looked to him. You could see a faint hope rising in them, that maybe the nicest one of the group might save them and intervene with a kind smile.

But the corner of Hayama’s mouth rose in a sarcastic expression, and then came the line we had planned. “How about this? We’ll let half of you go. The other half of you will stay here. You decide among yourselves who will stay,” he said, and the coldness behind his voice was nearly cruel.

In deafening silence, the kids turned to share a glance. They were silently asking one another, wondering what to do. “…I’m really sorry,” one girl said, even meeker than the first and nearly in tears.

But Hayama did not relent. “I don’t want an apology. I said that half of you will stay here. Choose now.” With every word, the girls’ shoulders trembled.

“Hey, didn’t you hear him? Or did you hear him and then ignore him?” Miura demanded, leaving the kids panicked.

“Hurry it up. Who’re you gonna leave behind?” Tobe threatened, kicking at the ground.

“Tsurumi, you should stay behind…,” said one girl.

“…Yeah, you be the one.”

“…”

The girls whispered to one another quietly, deciding who to sacrifice. Rumi kept silent, neither acquiescing nor refusing. She’d probably been half expecting this herself. It was reasonable of her to assume she’d be pushed into this role.

I let out an involuntary sigh. So far, everything had progressed according to plan. All that was left was to see if they would play out the rest as I expected.

Beside me, Yukinoshita was doing the same thing. “So this is where we get to your goal, huh?”

“Yeah. We’ll tear apart all the relationships around her,” I replied at a low whisper.

“…But should we?” Yuigahama murmured softly.

“We should. Messed-up relationships like that are better off completely gone.”

“Can you make them go away, though?” she wondered, uneasy.

My reply was uncertain. “Probably. If the girls are real friends like Hayama says, then their friendship will stick, and our plan ends. I doubt it’ll be like that, though.”

“Indeed,” agreed Yukinoshita. “If tearing someone down makes you happy, if that’s what gives you peace of mind, then you’re only going to befriend like-minded people.” She made her calm prediction of the future. No, as if she had already seen it happen.

When the kids shoved Rumi out in front, an expression of disgust briefly crossed Hayama’s face, but he quickly hid that under a cold mask. “So you’ve come up with one. Come on, two more, now. Hurry up.”

Another two. Even after picking out one, they still had to choose. Two more to be at fault, two more to shoulder the blame. The witch hunt commenced.

“…If Yuka hadn’t said that before…”

“It’s her fault.”

“Yeah…” Once somebody mentioned a girl’s name, other voices chimed in. One girl to send her to the guillotine, one to cut the rope, and one to eagerly await the result.

But still, no one willingly places themselves in a position of weakness. “No!” the girl in question cried. “Hitomi said that stuff first!”

“I didn’t say anything! I didn’t do anything!” insisted another girl, presumably Hitomi. “Mori was the one with the bad attitude. She’s always like that. She’s like that to teachers, too.”

“What? Me? What I’m like to teachers has nothing to do with this. You started it, and then it was Yuka,” Mori fired back. “Why’re you making this my fault?”

Their bickering was escalating, and it almost looked like they might end up grabbing one another by the collars any minute. Even from afar, the scene was so charged, I felt like the energy in the air would burn my throat.

“Let’s just stop this and all say sorry…,” one girl said. At last their emotions had all developed into a mix of fear and despair, but perhaps not hate, and they began crying. Either that, or they thought tears could get them some sympathy.

But their sobs had no effect on Miura’s attitude at all. Quite the opposite: She was openly annoyed, taking the cell phone she’d been fiddling with and snapping it violently shut. Her fury spilled out of her like flames. “There’s no one I hate more than girls who think they can solve everything just by crying. What’re we gonna do with them, Hayato? They’re still saying the same crap.”

“…Two more. Hurry up and choose,” Hayama repeated mechanically, stifling his sympathy.

Tobe started shadowboxing for emphasis. “C’mon, Hayato, it’d be faster to beat ’em all up.”

“I’ll give you all just thirty seconds,” said Hayama. I guess he figured that things weren’t going anywhere at this rate, so he set a time limit.

The time constraint put even more pressure on the girls. “They’re not gonna forgive us, no matter how much we apologize,” one girl said. “Should we call for the teachers?”

“Oh, you know what’ll happen if you tattle. ’Cause we know what you look like,” said Tobe, easily nixing that plan.

Now that they were out of options, the girls’ talk petered out. Time passed in silence. The only one to speak was Hayama. “Twenty seconds,” he said.

There was a brief pause, and then somebody in the group muttered, “…It really was Yuka.”

“Let’s leave Yuka,” another one joined in, a little louder.

The voice that followed was rather calm. “…I think we should, too.”

One of the girls—Yuka, no doubt—had a ghastly pale face. Quietly, she looked at the last girl, who hadn’t said anything yet.

Under that gaze, the girl looked down and turned her head aside. “…Sorry. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

When Yuka heard that, her mouth quivered. It looked like she was completely unable to process what was happening.

Beside me, Yuigahama let out a stifled sigh. “There’s nothing we can do about it, huh…?”

There really isn’t. Nobody can resist the flow of the moment. Even if you understand that environment is causing suffering for someone else, there are some things that just won’t work out. You can’t fight the pressure to conform; you can’t fight social norms. There are times when you are forced to do things you don’t want to do. If “everyone” is saying it and “everyone” is doing it, and you don’t join in, you won’t be allowed to be a part of “everyone.”

But there is no “everyone.” “Everyone” doesn’t say anything or punch anyone. “Everyone” doesn’t get angry or laugh. “Everyone” is just an illusion created by the magic of the group, an apparition born before you realize what’s going on, a ghost created to hide the malice of the individual. It’s the incarnation of a trickster spirit who devours the ostracized and goes on to rain down curses on their “friends.” In the past, it’s made both of them, him and her, its victims.

That’s why I hate it. I despise the world that forces “everyone” on you, that vulgar harmony based on scapegoating, the whole empty idea that paints over kindness and justice and transforms them into a vicious thing that grows more and more thorns with time. It’s nothing more than a lie. You can’t change the past, and you can’t change the world. “Everyone” can’t change what’s already happened. But that doesn’t mean you have to subordinate yourself to it. You can throw away the past; you can break the world and ruin it all.

“Ten, nine…” Hayama’s countdown continued.

Rumi’s eyes were closed, still and silent. She was tightly squeezing the digital camera hanging from her neck, as if it were a protective talisman. Perhaps in her head, she was praying or doing something like it.

“Eight, seven…”

I could hear the girls crying out in anger and sobbing. It looked as if the black forest were sucking up their hatred to deepen its own darkness. It was just about time. By now, they should have become well enough aware of their own malice and that of the girls around them. Now we just had to give them a cheerful “Gotcha! Sure scared you!  ” and that would be enough. It was inevitable they’d be furious about it, but I could take the blame. And that was what I was thinking as I began to rise to my feet.

“Wait.” Someone was tugging on the back of my shirt, pulling tight at my neck and strangling me.

“Ngkk! …What?”

When I turned around, I saw that Yuigahama was watching Rumi intently. I picked up on her meaning and sat down again.

“Five, four, three…”

“Um…” Rumi raised her hands, cutting off Hayama.

Hayama’s countdown stopped. He, Miura, and Tobe all focused on Rumi as if to ask, What?

That was when it happened. An intense flash enveloped the area. There was a continuous mechanical snap, snap as a torrent of light overwhelmed the black night and dyed everything white.

“Can you run? This way. Hurry.”

As the world flickered before my eyes, I heard Rumi’s voice and then the sound of footsteps, like people running by me.

It took me a moment to grasp what had happened. “That light just now… That was a camera flash.” I rubbed my eyes as they finally adjusted to the darkness again. I guess Rumi had used the digital camera hanging from her neck. It had been so unexpected, it was as if a stun grenade had hit us. Hayama, Tobe, and Miura were all frozen in place.

“I guess this means she saved them all,” said Yukinoshita. Very quietly, she added, “I can’t believe it…”

Looking somewhat pleased, Yuigahama said to me, “I guess they really were friends, huh?”

“No way,” I replied. “If you can’t be friends without tearing someone down, it’s not the real thing.”

“Oh yeah…” Yuigahama lowered her eyes in mild disappointment.

Even so, I could say one thing. “…But if you know it’s fake and still want to reach out…then, that’s probably the real thing, I bet.”

Yukinoshita nodded grudgingly. “…Yes, perhaps that is true.”

“Not like I really know,” I added.

“Why do you have to be like that? You’re so apathetic…,” Yuigahama said wearily.

Can’t do anything about that, though. I honestly don’t know.

“But you know,” said Yuigahama, “I hope it’s the real thing.” And she smiled.

“‘Nobody in this world fits the classic mold of the villain. Normally, everyone is good or at least ordinary. But in the right circumstances, they may change suddenly, and this is what makes them so frightening. One must always be on one’s guard.’” The passage that I had memorized suddenly came to mind, so I recited it.

“What’re you talking about…? You’re freaking me out.” Yuigahama eyed me suspiciously. How rude.

But Yukinoshita hummed and gave me a small nod. “Souseki Natsume?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “That’s what he wrote. But when you think about it, it also means no one fits the classic mold of the saint, either. And under the right circumstances, you might suddenly change into a saint sometimes. Probably.”

Yuigahama tilted her head. “Hmm? So what you’re saying is that, ultimately, you can’t say if it’s the real thing?”

“That’s what I’m saying. Everyone’s got their own perspective, but you can’t know. ‘The truth is in the grove,’ as they say.”

“‘In a Grove’? That’s Ryuunosuke Akutagawa, though…,” remarked Yukinoshita. My pointless interposition of our old standby, banter on Japanese literature, only elicited an exasperated sigh from her, and Yuigahama was tilting her head with confusion. I guess I should have used Souseki for my summary after all…

While I was busy desperately trying to come up with some witty Souseki reference, Hayama’s trio came toward us.

“Nice work there,” Hayama called out to me.

“Yeah, you too,” I replied. I thanked Tobe and Miura for helping out, too. Without them, it never would have happened in the first place. They were the ones who deserved the credit.

“I’m never doing anything like this again… My eyes still hurt,” complained Tobe.

“Hey, are we done now?” asked Miura.

“Can we leave cleanup to you guys? I’m a little tired, too.” Hayama sighed deeply. He looked seriously exhausted. Unsurprising—he’s usually a pretty good guy, so playing the villain must have been a strain.

“Yeah, we’ll manage,” I said. “There’s not much left to do anyway.”

“Thanks.” Hayama gave a faint smile and then left with Miura and Tobe in tow to head back to their rooms.

“We’re going to go get changed, too,” said Yukinoshita.

“Yeah, of course. It’s hard to do stuff in these,” said Yuigahama.

“Okay,” I replied. “See you, then.” I split with the two girls and started toward the plaza. I could clearly see the brightly blazing campfire from here.

The children were singing a song as they circled the towering flames. It was a let’s-be-friends-forever sort of song. Personally, it triggered some old trauma for me. Komachi, Totsuka, and Ebina had gone back to get changed, and I was alone, staring vacantly at the fire. When the ditty was over, it was finally time for the ever-so-thrilling and exciting folk dance. Watching it from my outside vantage point, even such a detestable event as this one was somehow beautiful. It was weird.

The members of Rumi’s clique were all miserable, though. Well, they had all only just brutally exposed their nastiness to one another, so if you asked me, this was expected. All the girls were ignoring one another, but they occasionally glanced in Rumi’s direction. I think maybe from now on, they’ll slowly start including her.

I didn’t have anything in particular to do, so I sought out Miss Hiratsuka. I found her chatting together with the elementary school teachers. When I approached, she noticed me and dropped out of the conversation to come over toward me. “Good work on the haunted forest,” she said. “You can go back now. It doesn’t look like there’s much left to do, and it can probably be done tomorrow anyway. Did you manage to resolve the issue?”

“Oh, that… Well, I dunno.” I was unable to give her an answer.

Yukinoshita, apparently done changing, approached us. “All he did was make a group of children cry and form rifts in their relationships.”

“I’m sensing some bad faith in that interpretation,” I said.

“It’s true, though, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, but…” I couldn’t argue with her. Frankly speaking, she was right, and I was stumped.

Miss Hiratsuka tilted her head, unsure of how to react. “I don’t really get what happened, but…based on what I’m seeing over there, they don’t seem totally isolated from one another. More like just separated…? Well, that’s good enough. It’s very like you kids.” Miss Hiratsuka cracked a smile as she watched the children do the folk dance and then returned to her former position.

Only me and Yukinoshita were left. “Hikigaya…” She said my name as if she were having some difficulty. “For whose sake did you want to resolve this?”

“I did it for Rumi-Rumi, of course,” I replied, shrugging. I mean, it wasn’t like anyone asked me to do it. I’d just undertaken a single project: to fix Rumi Tsurumi’s social situation. I had never intended to do anything at all for anyone else. Maybe certain people were projecting and bringing their own backgrounds into it, but I wasn’t going to start developing conjectures about that. I didn’t feel like I did anything.

“…I see. Well, that’s fine, then.” Yukinoshita left it at that, asking no further questions as she turned her eyes toward the campfire in the center of the plaza. The folk dance was just coming to a close, and everyone was getting ready to go back.

The kids walked on down the path, right by us. I found myself looking straight at Rumi. Her eyes caught mine, but she immediately looked away in an utterly automatic reaction. When she passed by me, she didn’t glance my way at all.

“No rewards forthcoming, hmm?” Yukinoshita quipped.

“It’s not like I did anything actually good. If you just say it like it is, we threatened some kids, destroyed their friendships, and used people to do it… It was the worst way to go about it. And there’s no reason she should thank me.”

“Indeed so… But things do get easier when there’s no longer a whole group to gang up on you. Besides, she reached her conclusion of her own free will. You could call what you did dirty or a mistake, but you’re the one who set the stage for her actions.” Yukinoshita told it like it was straight out, without hiding a thing. “That’s why even if you receive no accolades for it, I think you’re allowed to glean at least one good thing from it.” Unusually enough, the smile on Yukinoshita’s face was not condescending, sharp, or sarcastic. It was gentle.

But it only lasted a moment, and then she whirled around toward Yuigahama approaching us with a bucket and some sparklers. Komachi and Totsuka grabbed Miss Hiratsuka to steal her lighter and immediately set about playing with the fireworks. Miss Hiratsuka looked to be enjoying herself. How nice.

“Yukinon, sorry I took so long!” said Yuigahama. “Here, I’ve got sparklers.”

“I must pass. You two go ahead. I’ll watch you from here,” Yukinoshita replied.

“What? But I bought all this stuff…”

“I’m too tired to do any more fooling around,” Yukinoshita said to pacify her. “Be careful with those.” And then she sat down on a bench a little ways away.

“Are you my grandma…?” I muttered.

Yuigahama and I borrowed Miss Hiratsuka’s lighter, too, and used it to get a candle going for igniting the sparklers. Apparently, these were part of a bundle that Yuigahama had bought at the convenience store right before the camping trip. She had split half of them with Komachi.

When lit, the sparkler sizzled and shot a jet of green flame. Whoa, that’s pretty cool… I wonder how you’re supposed to play with these, though. I think it was supposed to be different from the frying-potato-bugs thing. Do you just watch them burn? I can imagine how you might play with bottle rockets, though. They’re used for, like, bombing and stuff. I’ve read that before in Kooky Trio.

“Yukinon! Look, look!” Yuigahama held four of the sprays in each hand, wildly swinging her arms around. Is that supposed to be Vega style or what? This stuff is dangerous, so you probably shouldn’t be doing this at home.

Yuigahama danced around and drew sweeping streaks of light in the air. Since Komachi and Totsuka were flailing around with their fireworks, too, I figured this was what you were supposed to do with them.

But burning them all up in such a dramatic show meant the spray-type sparklers ran out pretty much immediately, and then it was time for the regular sparklers. I surrounded the stick with my body as best I could to protect it from the wind and then lit it. Yuigahama crouched down daintily across from me and gently encircled her sparkler with her body, just as I had, and slowly lit it. The sparklers popped and crackled, emitting a ball of orange light. It was so quiet that it made all that previous flailing around seem odd by comparison.

“…This’ll work out for those girls, right?” Yuigahama said.

“I’m not the one who decides that,” I replied. “So I can’t say anything.”

“But now they’ll stop with the random ostracizing.”

“They lost their friends in exchange, though,” I said, and as I did, a fragment of sparkler ash fell to the ground. When the molten-orange light hit the ground, its brilliance rapidly faded away.

“Here,” said Yuigahama, handing me another one. “…But, like, don’t you think this is a relief for them? It’s hard on you, being pressured into all that stuff. This is coming from me, and I’m always letting myself be pressured by everything, so you know it’s true.”

Source: Gahama, huh? She makes a convincing argument. Maybe I can believe that. I brought the sparkler I’d been fiddling with toward the candle. It sizzled in a faint plume of smoke, and the tip of the stick erupted into a globe-shaped spray.

Yuigahama’s sparkler burned out with a poof. As if she’d been waiting for that moment, she whispered, “Hey, Hikki. We did it all, didn’t we?”

 

 

 

 

“Did what?”

“The stuff we talked about when we ran into each other that time. We didn’t have a barbecue, but we made curry. We didn’t go to the pool, but we played in the water. And we weren’t sleeping in tents or anything, but we did get to stay at a campground. And we were the ones doing the scaring, but we still did a haunted forest.”

“You’re saying all that stuff counts?” I felt like our experience was substantially different from what she had suggested.

But Yuigahama just tossed her dead sparkler into the bucket and took out another one. “It’s close enough! And…we’re lighting fireworks together right now.”

“I guess.”

“All my ideas came true. So…you should make the two of us hanging out together come true, too.” Yuigahama stopped there.

It was as if my gaze were magnetically drawn toward her. Our eyes met, and she smiled. Our sparklers crackled and bloomed.

Still, I had only one response. “…Yeah, whatever, sometime.”

We cleaned up the fireworks, and after that, things were the same as the previous night. I took a bath in the indoor bathroom in the manager’s building and then proceeded down the path to the bungalow as the night wind blew by. I was the last to bathe that day, so I’d been able to take my time.

When I got back to the bungalow, the lights were already off, and the other guys were probably all asleep. There was a futon spread out in the corner of the room for me—by Totsuka, no doubt—and when I slipped underneath the blanket, I let out a sigh. …I want him to be my bride.

“Hikitani…”

“Hayama? Did I wake you up?”

“No. I just had trouble falling asleep.”

No wonder. Who’d have sweet dreams after being dragged into all that stuff? I had just been watching from the shadows, and the guilt did get to me. “Sorry for forcing such a crappy role on you,” I apologized.

“It’s okay. I don’t really feel that bad about it. It just sort of reminded me of the past… A long time ago, I saw something similar, and I didn’t do a thing.” Hayama spoke with no trace of scorn or pity. He was just reminiscing.

I don’t know anything about his or Yukinoshita’s pasts, so I had nothing to say to that. All I could do was roll over in place of some noncommittal conversational noise.

“If only Yukinoshita had turned out like her sister,” he said.

Oh yeah, their families know each other, so he’s always known Haruno. But though we were acquainted with her, my opinion on the matter was different from his. “Oh no…,” I said. “It’s a good thing she didn’t turn out like that. Just imagining a friendly Yukinoshita is terrifying.”

Hayama laughed. “That’s true.” It was dark, and I couldn’t see, but from the tone of his voice, I could tell he was smiling. Then his voice suddenly dropped low. I could faintly hear him breathing. “…Hey, I wonder how things would have gone if you’d been at my elementary school, Hikitani.”

My reply was instantaneous. “Duh. There’d just have been another loner at your school.”

“Maybe.”

“Definitely,” I said, my voice brimming with confidence.

In the darkness, I could hear an indistinct, stifled chuckle. He cleared his throat, pretending it hadn’t happened. “I think a lot of things would have ended differently. But still…” He paused as if choosing his words. “I don’t think I would have been able to be friends with you, Hikigaya.”

……His unexpected remark made my mind go momentarily blank. To think that Hayama, the guy who could get along with anyone, would make such a claim. I paused briefly, then responded in a deliberately reproachful tone. “…That’s mean. I’m a little shocked.”

“I’m joking. Good night.”

“Yeah, night.”

Perhaps that was the very first time I recognized who Hayato Hayama really was…and he recognized who Hachiman Hikigaya was. His tone had been kind, but a harsh undercurrent had lurked beneath it. I had a gut feeling that what he had told me was the unvarnished truth.



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