Yahari Ore no Seishun Love Come wa Machigatte Iru - Volume 6.5 - Chapter 4

4

Haruno Yukinoshita continues to test them until the last.

Classes had ended for the day, and some time had passed since Zaimokuza’s declaration of war.

We were in an especially awkward Sports Festival Committee meeting.

Finally, the time had come for the showdown.

In the east: Yoshiteru Zaimokuza.

In the west: Hina Ebina.

The curtain rose on this nightmarish face-off between the basement-dwelling otaku wannabe writer fanboy vs. the high-spec slash fangirl. After having inadvertently set up this match, we’d also arranged the venue. We each performed our tasks: pulling down the screen at the front of the meeting room, warming up the projector, checking the computer connections, making sure the machine was actually projecting.

Once Yukinoshita had made sure the laser pointer worked, she turned to the student council president. “Shiromeguri, we’ve finished setup.”

“Thanks.” Meguri smiled brightly back at her, then checked with Sagami, who was sitting next to her. “Then let’s get started… S-Sagami?”

“Yes, o-of course…” Sagami’s voice was shaking. Starting that day, Sagami would be trusted to lead the meeting by herself. As for how she was doing—she was more frightened than nervous.

But I think what she was scared of was less the position of chair and more the wild light in Ebina’s eyes next to her.

“So then,” Sagami began, “Hina, and…um, you…g-go right ahead…”

“Leave it to me!”

“Ah-herm…”

The excited girl and the anxious boy stood and came up beside the screen. Facing each other, they exchanged bold smiles.

Finally, the presentation showdown begins…

Surprisingly, Zaimokuza was the one to make the first move.

Generally, in this sort of competition, I feel like whoever makes the first move loses, though… Like, in cooking manga especially.

“Er-fum.” Zaimokuza stood before the screen and cleared his throat.

He let his head slump into a nod of a bow, using the computer to show an outline he’d made with PowerPoint. It displayed the surprisingly legitimate title of Sports Festival Big Event Proposal. The font looked kind of brush stroke–ish, but aside from that, nothing about it struck me as the work of a fanatic.

Often, the saying “Simple is best” is used as an excuse to cut corners. I say it a lot myself, too.

We were all holding our breaths, watching and wondering just what would be featured in this presentation that came under such a simple heading.

Occasionally, something like the buzzing of a mosquito that had survived into fall could be heard. It was quiet. Everyone was fully poised to listen.

But Zaimokuza never started talking.

“ The end.”

Zaimokuza exhaled, then bobbed his head again and tried to leave.

Huh?! It’s over?!

N-no way. Was that mosquito whine Zaimokuza’s voice?!

“Extreme nerves prevented him from speaking at all,” Yukinoshita analyzed most calmly.

Well, when you’re not used to this stuff… School doesn’t offer many opportunities for public speaking. The fact of the matter is, a presentation stage is basically a scaffold for public humiliation. People tend to believe it’s acceptable to unconditionally criticize and judge the one forced in front of the firing line.

“Hikki.”

I understood what Yuigahama was trying to say. Well, he was trying to help us out, so we should be grateful, even to Zaimokuza. They had a good old saying, back in the day—“The knowledge of what is right is worthless without the courage to act on it.”

“Me…? Well, of course. I’m the only one, huh…?” Sadly, I was the only one there right then who was capable of communicating with Zaimokuza. Perhaps this is what communicating with the Ohmu feels like…

With a short sigh, I stood. To our first challenger, who was frozen like a statue, I said, “Zaimokuza, I’ll give you a hand, so let’s go through it again.”

Zaimokuza’s head craned around to capture me in his field of vision, creaking like Musubi or something. His stiff expression softened, like snow melting away. “…H-herm. So be it.” He seemed relieved, gradually returning to normal.

That’s actually kinda irritating…

“Then let’s get started…” With a casual bow, I rapped the PowerPoint. “This is what we’re proposing. It’s the Chiba Citizenry Cavalry Battle. Huh? What the hell?” My head snapped over to look at Zaimokuza.

Now revived, Zaimokuza faced me, and with exaggerated gestures, he bellowed, “The Chiba Citizenry Cavalry Battle! For shoooort…! The Chibattle!”

You should’ve said that to everyone from the start… “So what the hell is this?”

“Hapum. In Chiba long ago, there was a conflict between the Satomi and Houjou families. This marvelous competition reflects that history,” Zaimokuza babbled on at me.

“I think this area was all ocean back then, though. So what’re the rules?” I commented as I hit the Enter key to bring up the next slide.

Then Zaimokuza stopped my hand. “Oh, no, wait, Hachiman! Um, this is kind of a bit embarrassing! The next slide isn’t properly done yet! It’s only half-done, just a rough draft! Like a sketch, okay?! I—I wasn’t serious about making it, you know!” Desperately threatening excuses, he yanked hard at my hand, and the force of it made me press the Enter key by accident.

“Hogeeeeeeee!” Zaimokuza wailed, and something like a photoshopped image showed up. It was a pretty sloppy one: a picture of an armored warrior had been laid on top of your average, normal chicken fight photo. He must have cut and pasted it with MS Paint, as it was ridiculously low quality. His shitty photo manipulation exposed to the whole crowd, Zaimokuza froze yet again.

In the meantime, I decided to move things along. “Um, the rules are just about the same as a normal chicken fight. You pick out riders called captains, who’ll be wearing armor cosplay, and whichever team brings down the most captains wins. This makes it more tactical than a regular chicken fight and also provides a strong visual impact… Huh, these rules are surprisingly normal.” Skipping the part at the end that said Captain Sakura and a storm of dramatic adventure (lol), I read out the explanation of the rules. Frankly, I couldn’t hide my surprise at Zaimokuza’s actually legitimate idea.

“Y-you think?” It seemed Zaimokuza was baffled that someone actually approved.

“That’s simple and easy to understand. Easy to imagine, too.” Meguri nodded. It seemed his miserable edit had also been enough to communicate the gist of it. When she offered a little applause, it spread weakly through the room.

Well, you know. It doesn’t matter if you did the job right; if you’ve expressed it in the wrong way, you often won’t gain approval. Honestly, I think those methods of expression should be a part of education. Then maybe there’d be fewer traumatic incidents in class.

Zaimokuza was surprised to be receiving applause, glancing around all over the place restlessly. “H-Hachiman, what on earth…?”

“Well, it doesn’t seem like a bad idea. Nice work.” With a light pat on his shoulder, I returned to my own seat.

“H-hurr…” Upon receiving that unexpectedly good reception, Zaimokuza gave a tiny, satisfied smile.

The applause instantly died and was replaced with whispers about how creepy he was.

He’d have been fine without that, though…

Once Zaimokuza had finished his presentation, next it was Ebina’s turn.

As expected, with her experience on Hoshimyu   and her high social status, she seemed accustomed to the activity as she began her explanation. “Um, so this was my idea.”

With a click of the Enter key, she moved the PowerPoint slides along. On the cover slide was written Pole Pull-Down.

That’s surprisingly normal… I thought this was Ebina, here… Maybe this is not in fact Hina Ebina, but Vigna Ghina?

“The key point here is the captains. While somewhat similar to the earlier presentation, this event stresses charisma over strategy.” Taking no notice of my doubtful look, Ebina continued her explanation smoothly.

Hmm, she’s actually got a lot going for her in a low-key sort of way. Personnel like her is rather uncommon—she’s got the ideas, the skills, and the leadership.

“Hayato Hayama is popular among students and captain of the soccer team. Making him a team captain in the pole pull-down will get everyone’s attention.” The slide quickly switched to the next one, displaying a photo of Hayama wearing a particularly charming and bright smile.

What the heck is this…? I was already tired of this, but the girls of the committee were tittering excitedly. It was super-effective. It seemed Sagami in particular highly approved of this.

If their response was any indication, the other girls in the school would probably react in a fairly similar way. Ebina’s casting choice was not wrong. Her strategy of choosing the right crowd-pleaser to maximize payoff was spot-on.

However, it seemed there was still a hole in this plan, as her face clouded with worry. “Hayato will be on the white team, so you need someone else on the red team… Um, is there anyone who seems like they’d be good for the red team?” Ebina’s gaze turned to Sagami, the chair.

“Um, I wonder…” Sagami wore a pensive look.

Meanwhile, Meguri turned the question to the meeting room as a whole. “Are there red team people here? If you know someone, it would really help if you could come up with some candidates.”

Everyone began asking each other what team they were on. But no good names came up. Meguri herself hmm’d and considered the matter before calling out, “Ah! Yukinoshita, you guys are on the red team, right? Can you think of anyone?”

“Huh?! Hikitani, you’re on the red team?!” Ebina suddenly jumped on that. In fact, she literally jumped on me. “Then we’re set with Hikitani! Having the two captains on opposing teams as a red-and-white-themed ship is so auspicious, let’s just go ahead and celebrate! My ship is sailing!!”

No, it’s not; it’s gonna sink right there in the harbor.

“Hem, so Hachiman was also of the red…” Zaimokuza smirked.

Meaning he’s red team, too…? I started thinking we could just make him the captain, but it really had to be someone who would be on the same level as Hayama… If you wanted an equal and opposite vector, I feel like Zaimokuza could be on a level with him, but concept-wise, that wouldn’t work.

Of course, for the same reasons, my being captain wasn’t an option, either. It had to be someone like Hayama, who would be broadly popular and supported by the masses.

But Ebina’s shipping goggles were firmly over her eyes now as she rampaged onward. “A-anyway, Ebina will, um, Ebina will, without trying to hide her surprise and confusion and joy, continue explaining calmly. Um, H-Hayato will be on the white team, and Hikitani will go red while Hayato pulls his stick… Blerk!” Her head spasmed backward, and then she stopped moving.

Sensing a rapidly deteriorating situation, Meguri nodded at the student council. They briskly moved into action, tugging Ebina’s hand and taking her outside. Watching her being dragged away, I was reminded of the Roswell incident.

I would use this opportunity to scrap the part about me captaining the red team. Well, even if I didn’t, I’m sure everyone would be against it. “I’m on the committee, so I can’t. If we’re doing the pole pull-down, let’s look for some other candidate.”

“Hmm, that’s right. And we have to decide which we’re doing, first.” Meguri also nodded. “Then, Sagami, how about we take a vote?”

“Right. Okay, everyone who’d like to do the cavalry battle?”

There were a few scattered raised hands.

“Next, everyone who thinks the pole pull-down would be good?” Sagami said, also raising her own hand. There was just about the same smattering of hands raised for this one.

It was close, but by the slightest margin, I figured there were more for the pole pull-down. They’d be able to see Hayama as the star for that event, after all, so no surprises there.

“The numbers are about the same, huh…?” Meguri said after counting.

They could just go ahead and select the pole pull-down now. That’s an option, after taking a vote. Even if the numbers for the minority opinion are just about equal, a little less than half the votes, you can toss it out. The more you increase your parameters, the more people you can round out of the equation.

This is how majority rule works. You might say this system has some fatal flaws, and thus is wrong. Which means that minority rule is correct, which means a minority like me is always correct, huh? I see; so I was justice all along…

“So then how about we make it so that the boys do the pole pull-down…,” Sagami said, tossing out a decision, “…and then we make the chicken fight the big event for the girls, and we do both?”

“Ohhh, I see.” Meguri liked that idea, clapping her hands. Then she looked over at Miss Hiratsuka, who nodded, too. It seemed her policy was, as usual, to leave all decision-making to the students’ discretion.

After checking with the teacher, Meguri scanned the whole room. “What do all you guys think?”

Well, it was a reasonable decision. The proposals had each been supported by about half the people there. Nobody really argued when Meguri posed the question to everyone.

With majority rule, the important thing is mitigating the fallout of silencing half the room’s opinions.

In that area, I could give Sagami’s decision a passing grade. I don’t think it was a bad call. The chicken fight was just as good as the pole pull-down as a concept, and it had actually gained the approval of the executives and the student council.

But the reaction of the crowd here was weak.

For an instant, an unpleasant murmur ran through the room. Whispers wriggled toward me like the sound of insect legs.

Yukinoshita and Yuigahama both astutely picked up on this omen.

“…” Narrowing her eyes, Yukinoshita looked toward the source of the voices. Sagami hadn’t yet noticed, but the atmosphere here had already changed.

“Um, since it looks like nobody is against it, I’ll take it we can settle on the chicken fight for the girls? Now let’s decide on who’s doing what.” The success of her own idea put Sagami in a great mood. “I’ll hand out a table of what’s on the program, so everyone please come to the front to write down what you want to work on,” she instructed.

Then the student council started distributing printouts. Next we had some time to think on our own for a while, and once we made our decisions, we would go to write them on the whiteboard.

While I was looking at my own sheet, wondering if I had to make up my mind here, too, Meguri stepped up to my side. “We’re planning to have you guys as our management headquarters on the day of the event, so you don’t have to pick a task for yourselves.”

“All right. Then shall we begin making assignments for supervision?” Yukinoshita nodded, proposing a separate meeting among the executives.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

“Oh, then Sagamin, too…” Yuigahama looked for Sagami. But they were in the same meeting room. It was impossible to lose Sagami at this range.

So we could see her clearly.

“Who’ll be in charge of what, then? I’d like to be in charge of the pole pull-down,” Sagami said. “Hey, Yukko, Haruka, come join me.”

Sagami was with Haruka and Yukko—the ones she’d been with during the time of the Cultural Festival Committee as well. You could say it was inevitable that she’d approach them for this sports festival, too.

But they clearly seemed more distant than the last time.

Haruka and Yukko shared a look, and then as if they’d planned it, they said basically the same thing.

“Um, we can’t…”

“We have our club, so we can’t really handle that much prep…”

The slight distance that had opened between her and the two girls confused Sagami for just a moment. But she quickly pasted on a smile. “Oh… Huh? But that’ll make the event less exciting later, right?” she said.

And then, as synchronized as if they’d divided up the parts beforehand, they pulled the gentle rejection move.

“Yeah, that’s true, but we have our tournament and stuff…”

“It really is hard for us to make the time, so I dunno if we wanna go crazy…”

“Oh, but don’t worry about us, Minami! You do the one you like!”

By repeatedly bringing up the issue of clubs, territory that Sagami couldn’t touch, and by showing consideration to Sagami at the end, they drove the conversation to its conclusion.

That sequence of moves was kind of like how you close a game of chess.

“O-oh… Yeah, of course.” Sagami put on a particularly bright smile to emphasize that she wasn’t bothered.

“Sorry.” They both apologized to stress that they really were sad about this. Now the negotiation was at a close.

That was right when Yuigahama called out to her. “Heeey, Sagamin! Meetiiing!”

“Ohhh yeah, coming, coming! Then I’ll see you guys later!” Sagami waved to the two of them, and then once she was back with the executives, we got ready to start the meeting.

“Ahoy, Hachiman… What should I be doing?”

“Huh? …Oh, well, we’re gonna be adding in the chicken fight, too, so it’ll be good to have you around,” I replied, and Zaimokuza gave me a herm and a nod, then thudded down in a nearby chair.

Well, that’s fine for Zaimokuza, but what do we do about Ebina? She isn’t back yet; is that fine? Is she still out in Area 51…?

When Sagami took her seat, the meeting of the executives began.

We confirmed the necessary roles and decided who was taking what. We could leave it to the crew to manage personnel while all the events were going on.

The issue was everything else: first aid, broadcasting, the things that needed to be built in time for the event, plus setting up the venue. This was something we also couldn’t manage with the executives alone, so we had to circulate a certain amount of work to the crew.

Meguri explained what had been done in past years, and then Sagami nodded and tried to move on to the next topic. “Then besides that, what we need is…”

“The whole school will be involved in the major events,” Yukinoshita explained, “so we’ll have everyone on scene during the events. So perhaps it would be best for everyone to mobilize all the girls for the girls’ event and all the boys for theirs.”

“Oh, of course.” Sagami clued in once it was pointed out to her and quietly stood up. Already the crew were starting to divide up the labor on their own, so we had to tell them this quickly and communicate to them what the total amount of work would be.

“Pardon me! We’ll be requesting that everyone participate in the big events. Please write something else down for what you’ll be in charge of!”

Sagami’s words caused some murmurs within the crew, and they were not good murmurs. Apparently, this idea was not very popular.

And a couple of them froze right where they were.

It was Haruka and Yukko, who Sagami had just been talking with. The two of them exchanged soft whispers, then nodded at each other.

In perfect sync, they took a step forward.

“Um, Minami, we think that’s a bad idea.” I couldn’t tell which of them spoke, but it sent another wave of murmurs rippling through the meeting room.

“Huh…?” Sagami failed to respond to such direct opposition. It seemed like she couldn’t understand what they were saying. I doubt anyone there actually had a correct grasp on the situation.

“We don’t think we can cooperate if everyone is forced to participate in these events…,” the other one said.

Sagami went pale. “Um, but we all decided this together…right? Right?”

“But we all have clubs… We’d have to decide on different events…”

“We can’t be taking too much time with prep or have anything too big.”

Sagami had no reply to their insistence.

Most of the members of this committee had been sent from the athletic clubs. This was a different bloc from the executive side, which was formed mainly of student council members.

Meguri had a complicated expression. “Um, it’s true that it’ll be difficult, but couldn’t we ask you to help us out somehow?” she asked hesitantly.

Unsurprisingly, it was difficult for Haruka and Yukko to argue against the student council president to her face, and they both looked away and said nothing. But that was not at all an agreement.

Meguri gave a strained smile at their stubborn attitude.

It was clear which side was more committed to this project.

From where the executives stood, since we were asking the crew a favor, we couldn’t come down hard on them. There was no clear hierarchical relationship built into this situation. That was why, even if Sagami was the committee chair, they were still nothing more than fellow members on the same project, so she couldn’t order them around. There was no need for them to submit to her request.

It was a structural flaw.

If there had been a relationship built on trust here, then they’d probably have accepted this request. Most likely, Meguri and her predecessors had always done it like that. But Sagami and her friends didn’t have that. No—maybe it would be more accurate to say they’d lost it.

Their close relationship during the cultural festival prep had been enabled by their shared position on it. However, in the Sports Festival Committee, Sagami was with the executives while the other two were in the crew, so their club activities and the clear burden posed by the higher workload had caused this difference to emerge between them.

This was a bad sign.

Sagami’s fairly trivial words and actions had generated ripples, and those must have come from the two girls. She had upset them more and more each time she failed to take the crew’s position into account.

And now that was erupting.

“Let’s leave it at that,” came a strong voice that carried well.

Looking over, I saw Miss Hiratsuka had come to her feet, throwing open the door. “It’s getting late. Let’s call it a day and discuss it again another time.”

The executives and crew were both in different positions, but they were both students. A voice had to come from a level higher than them in order to force action. The only thing that could bring this to a close was Miss Hiratsuka.

Haruka and Yukko looked at each other, then snatched up their bags and pattered out of the meeting room. The rest of the crew followed their lead.

The only ones left were the executives: the student council, the Service Club, and Sagami.

“Shiromeguri, do you have a minute?” Miss Hiratsuka called, and Meguri went outside, too.

“Coming…”

Silence fell on the meeting room.

Sagami stood frozen for another moment, then practically collapsed into a nearby chair.

The light of the inclining sun poured into the meeting room.

The brilliance of the setting sun made Sagami look down to the floor.

The afterglow of the sunset dyed the sky red. The clouds billowing from the ocean blanketed the western sky with brilliant flames, while darkness was slowly spreading farther inland.

A morose atmosphere hung heavy throughout the meeting room.

After the announcement that we were adjourned, there had been no progress. The whole crew had left, including Haruka and Yukko, and most likely returned to their clubs.

We were waiting for Miss Hiratsuka and Meguri to return.

Zaimokuza breathed a leaden sigh, twisting around uncomfortably. Yuigahama and the student council followed his lead and sighed, too. Except for Yukinoshita, who was still sitting dignified and straight with her eyes closed.

Meanwhile, the rest of us just felt awkward and out of place, and we were all starting to focus on one person.

Minami Sagami.

After her tenure as the chair of the Cultural Festival Committee, she’d been wheedled into taking up the position of chair of the Sports Festival Committee, too, but you couldn’t see in her any dignity befitting that title. She hadn’t opened her mouth once since the meeting had ended. Her forehead was down on her desk, and every once in a while, you could hear the sound of her nails tapping on her smartphone. I couldn’t see her face from where I was sitting, but I could tell she wasn’t happy.

Sagami had spent the cultural festival with her friends, but this time, they disagreed with her. In front of everyone, too, which added to the burden.

Having those connections in the first place is what makes it sting when they’re broken.

I didn’t think Serves you right. I actually felt sorry for her.

Though I doubt they’d ever been all that close to begin with, relationships are fickle things. They only cut so sharply when they’re lost.

The return is low, but there’s risk all over the place.

It’s the sort of relationship where you don’t really know how you got acquainted, but you know their faces and run into them occasionally at school and say ’Sup when you do, and maybe you might have one or two conversations.

They’re different from the fixed relationships you have with people in your class or your club. The Cultural Festival Committee and Sports Festival Committee are perfect examples of that. I hear they call these sorts of limited connections “’sup friends.” Komachi told me that at some point… Does that even count as a friend? Isn’t that bar too low to count as friendship?

Sagami’s miscalculation had been the presence of Haruka and Yukko, her ’sup friends. To be more precise, I’d say it was because the two of them were in a different position from Sagami this time around. Sagami was there as an executive, while Haruka and Yukko were there as crew. Color-coded points of difference easily become live coals.

If the three of them had been in the same position, just like during the cultural festival, then they’d probably have gotten along. They’d have enjoyed themselves and chatted as they worked: She shouldn’t have been chair; this job sucks; they’re ordering us around, but they’re hardly working themselves, huh?

The efficacy of backbiting and slander in communication is immeasurable: the sharing of experience and perception, the display of your own viciousness, the knowledge of that viciousness giving each party a hold on the other’s weakness, the consciousness of being conspirators, the unity brought about by that consciousness. Furthermore, slandering each other lets off steam and makes the communication after that smoother.

Backbiting is the best. You can get along with anyone. It just sucks for your target.

A friendship built on some kind of sacrifice will always require fresh meat. Once the supply is cut off, then you must offer up one of your own.

It started with their difference in positions and continued with Sagami’s repeated screwups. And then the fact that it was two against one had made it completely clear to me that Sagami would be the lamb for live sacrifice. Right about now, Haruka and Yukko would be entertaining themselves with all kinds of malicious gossip about not only Sagami, but the executives, too.

I felt sorry for Sagami because I could see all of it. Watching her still clutching her cell phone and trying to cling to some kind of connection just made it worse. And I doubt I was the only one feeling sympathetic.

Yuigahama pressed her lips together and glanced at Sagami.

No matter what our purpose had been, we’d been the ones to push Sagami to be chair. Maybe Yuigahama felt a little guilty about that.

“Meguri and Miss Hiratsuka are taking a while, huh?” Yuigahama didn’t seem to be speaking to anyone in particular, but her comment lightened the air in the room somewhat.

“Yes…,” Yukinoshita replied, quietly raising her gaze.

“Should we go see how things are coming along?” one of the student council members asked, standing.

But Yukinoshita shook her head. “I’m sure they’re not done talking, and I think going now wouldn’t change much,” she replied coolly, and the representative quickly acquiesced.

But I could understand the student council’s impatience. Miss Hiratsuka and Meguri’s discussion was dragging out longer than expected.

By the time the two of them came back, I figure about twenty minutes had passed. Miss Hiratsuka’s expression was far more serious than usual, and Meguri was looking rather dejected as they came into the meeting room.

“Sorry to make you wait,” Miss Hiratsuka said, and with that one remark, she took a seat in the chair at the very edge of the meeting room, while Meguri also headed for her seat in the middle.

Once all eyes had gathered on her, Miss Hiratsuka said, “After discussing with Shiromeguri, we’re thinking we’ll cancel the next meeting.”

“We’ve decided to give everyone some time to cool down and see how things will go…,” Meguri added.

Well, that was a pretty reasonable decision, in my opinion. Since we couldn’t eliminate the cause of the tension around us, we had no choice but to wait for time to erase them—or maybe wear them down.

But I doubted that would be enough.

“Will it work out in only a day or two, though?” Yuigahama muttered.

“Yeah, I doubt it…”

Anger, as an emotion, doesn’t last that long. That was why it was the correct decision to have a brief cooldown period. But even if anger doesn’t last, hate and resentment will go on. They’ll keep smoldering deep, deep in the darkness, and like glowing embers, they’ll burn and burn, slowly and quietly.

And what’s even worse is that derision, teasing, and contempt will continue even longer. Dragging someone down is far easier than building them up, and when people start getting witty about it, the whole thing becomes just another way to have fun. Keep it casual, and everyone treats it like a joke. Since you don’t even think you’re doing something wrong, unlike hate or a grudge, it becomes a cycle that continues in the long term.

It was very possible that things would get worse over the next few days.

“Still, it’s better than holding a meeting with the way things are now,” Miss Hiratsuka said, sounding pained. She must have sensed my misgivings.

Miss Hiratsuka was right; if they were to suddenly face each other again the next day, it would be hard to imagine that going well. Given how Sagami herself was acting, the probability was even higher.

When I glanced at Sagami, she was biting her lips instead of saying anything.

“So can I take it you’re fine with that?” Miss Hiratsuka confirmed with her, and she nodded.

“Yeah…I am…” With that broken reply, her head lowered again.

“…” Yukinoshita had been watching her intently, but then she suddenly looked at Meguri instead. “…All right, let’s notify everyone of the cancellation.”

“Yeah. The student council will handle it,” Meguri agreed, and the rest of the student council jumped right on it without her having to tell them to. I didn’t know how they did it, like with a mailing list or adding it to the morning announcements or what, but because they completed the task immediately, it must have been something fairly easy.

Watching them, Miss Hiratsuka said, “Well then, let’s adjourn for the day, too.”

Everyone said their adieus, then started to get ready to go.

“Herm. Farewell, Hachiman.” Zaimokuza was finally free after being forced to hang around us the whole time, and he quickly packed up his things and scampered out of the meeting room. The other student council members also quickly finished prep and headed home.

When I was grabbing my bag, ready to head home as well, someone called out to me specifically. “Hikigaya. You three stay awhile.”

“Huh? I mean, today’s not really…,” I protested, but Miss Hiratsuka pointed to the others with her jaw.

Looking over, I saw Yukinoshita must have anticipated staying behind, as she hadn’t moved from her spot. Yuigahama was just zoning out and didn’t really seem to have anything on her mind.

It had been determined that I would stay behind as a member of an affiliated organization. Any opposition was futile, I knew, and I reluctantly sat down.

All right, so what does she want to talk about? I wondered, waiting for her to continue.

But rather than speaking to us, Miss Hiratsuka addressed someone unexpected. “And Sagami. You too.”

Sagami twitched when she heard her name, but she showed no signs of refusal. All she said was a quiet “Okay.”

Miss Hiratsuka looked over me, Yukinoshita, Yuigahama, Sagami, and Meguri, and then began. “I’ll get straight to the point. What are you going to do now?”

Yuigahama and I exchanged confused glances. But that wasn’t going to give us answers.

I looked at Yukinoshita, and she was looking at Miss Hiratsuka. Apparently, she understood at least somewhat. “Do you mean, how do we plan to manage this going forward?”

“Well, more or less. Though that’s not all…,” she said evasively. She glanced over at our chair. “Sagami, how do you plan to continue?”

“Huh…?” Sagami must not have anticipated the discussion would be turned toward her. It took her a moment before she finally said, “I don’t know; I think…we just have to do it…” All she had to offer was a hesitant, vague remark.

That didn’t answer the question, but it did basically seem she was cognizant of the current situation, that things were bad right now. She’d been asked what she would do about it, not if she recognized the position we were in, but maybe it was a little harsh to demand that much of her right now.

Instead of sighing, Miss Hiratsuka made a solemn noise of agreement. Then she turned back to Sagami once more and began slowly. “Mm-hmm. Then first, let’s sort out the issues.” She was giving Sagami the space to confirm the situation and sum up the important points. Miss Hiratsuka fully intended to have Sagami come up with an answer to this problem herself, I think. This methodology was very like her.

Sagami’s gaze swam around as she closed and opened her mouth slightly, as if she didn’t know where to start.

Her eyes darted nervously to the rest of us and away, back and forth. She looked at me, too, but then she wrinkled her nose in shame and loathing, and looked away immediately again.

Nobody said anything. We just waited for Sagami to talk.

She must have interpreted that as pressure, as she hesitantly opened her mouth. “Um…the crew won’t listen to us.”

“…”

Well, it’s not surprising she took it that way. I didn’t feel exasperated—more like this just made sense to me. The table was completely silent.

Only one of us, Meguri, offered any reaction at all, and it was a bit of an uncomfortable smile. “Hmm… Yeah. For the sports festival and the major events to work out, the crew needs to be able to work with the sports clubs, you know? But right now, things are a little tight for everyone, so it’s difficult to get them to commit to giving the time and the effort… Maybe we could put it like that.”

“Y-yeah,” Sagami replied immediately, but it was doubtful whether she really understood Meguri’s helpful remark.

Well, I had no problem with Meguri giving hints. Since Sagami had the title of committee chair, she would be the one coming to the final conclusions. It was best to make her consider this matter right now. To put it another way, this was fine as long as Sagami was the one to come up with the conclusion in the end.

The rest of us should lead her to that conclusion.

Yukinoshita also understood this quite well; she paused for a moment, then looked at Meguri. “Meaning we negotiate and coordinate with each of the clubs… We can check the schedules of the clubs that have upcoming tournaments and determine which assignments are good for everyone.”

Yukinoshita’s proposal was very respectable.

Her method was to carefully eliminate each of the reasons Haruko and Yukko had brought up—the premises they’d used as a shield, so to speak.

But that wouldn’t help us here. A logical method would only work on people who thought logically.

“That’s not gonna be enough,” I said, and Yuigahama hesitantly agreed.

“Yeah…maybe.” It seemed she understood the other issue here.

“Tell us why,” Miss Hiratsuka prompted.

I explained it in very simple terms. “As long as they’re still mad about what happened, we’re going to stall again unless we handle this very carefully.”

People act based on emotion.

Whether it’s rational or not, everyone’s standard of judgment is their own feelings. And after making a decision based on transient emotion, they’ll construct a post hoc rationale for it.

They throw out all sorts of arguments to justify why they hate something and why they have to avoid it. No matter how much logic you use to explain, they’ll find some other point to argue. It’s not even worth pulling up sources.

“I don’t really get it…,” Sagami grumbled.

…I’m talking about you, Sagami.

I considered saying as much to her, but if she didn’t understand that now, then she couldn’t be self-aware about the issue. I could spell it out for her, but arguing would obviously just be a big pain in the ass.

I decided to communicate this to her succinctly, without naming names and generalizing as broadly as I could. “What I’m saying is that if someone doesn’t like you, it doesn’t matter if what you’re saying is right. They’ll be critical of you anyway.”

The answer was just too simple. It was so plain and simple, I could practically call it the truth of the world. Nobody took issue with what I’d said.

Miss Hiratsuka, who’d been listening silently, breathed a short sigh and said, “…So as long as Sagami continues as the chair, this problem will keep following us around.”

Her view was quite correct.

Once trust is lost, you can’t get it back easily. On the other hand, losing trust is simple.

Sagami had failed.

And the world is very harsh toward failure.

A screwup at the initial stages of starting high school or university is fatal, and a failure near the very end or at a championship game will torture you into eternity.

Only the successful will reassure you that it’s okay to fail. Those who can’t produce results can never say it, and people who aren’t yet able to succeed must not believe in these honey-sweet words.

It seemed Sagami herself could understand her failure on an emotional level, and she was paying close attention and digesting Miss Hiratsuka’s words.

And then she finally caught the point.

“Does that mean…I should quit?” Sagami asked, bristling.

Miss Hiratsuka smiled awkwardly. “That’s not what I’m saying. You need to recover lost ground, so it’ll make things that much harder. I want you to understand that.”

She was putting it delicately. Too delicately.

Recovering from failure may not always be impossible, but it’s not as simple as the older or the successful say, and in many cases, failure summons further failure.

At this rate, Sagami would probably fall into a downward spiral.

Miss Hiratsuka’s direct gaze was like a test of her resolve, and Sagami flinched a little. “…Ah, um…,” she began, then looked over at Yukinoshita.

Maybe that meant she was searching for answers. But that was a big mistake on her part—specifically, she was seeking those from the wrong person. Look to someone who’ll give you the answer you want.

With the same neutral expression as always, but a tone quite a bit chillier than usual, Yukinoshita delivered a heavy blow to Sagami. “I wouldn’t mind if you were to resign now. This wasn’t something you wanted to do in the first place; you did it by our request. There’s no need for you to force yourself to continue.”

“B-but—,” Sagami started to protest.

Yukinoshita cut her off. “I was the one who asked this of you, so I’ll take responsibility.”

In other words, she would fulfill the responsibility of the appointment and carry out the work of the chair. It was a very realistic thing for her to say. Yukinoshita would most certainly pull off the job better than Sagami. That was clear based on what had happened with the cultural festival.

This would fill the hole of responsibility left by Sagami. The problem that had been keeping Sagami in check was gone. The only question now was what Sagami wanted.

Her voice grave, Miss Hiratsuka asked her to confirm her resolve. “What will you do, Sagami?”

“I—I…” Her voice trembled.

I think she wanted someone to stop her. She wanted us to talk her into staying.

That way, she’d have an excuse to thrust her own responsibilities on someone else. Or more that she could maintain her self-respect by acting like she hadn’t run away, that she’d made the decision herself but for our sake.

But Yukino Yukinoshita would not allow that.

She was taking a gamble.

The Service Club was currently trying to fulfill the request of improving things in Class 2-F, and to that end, our goal was helping Minami Sagami regain her confidence to get rid of the negativity. And to accomplish that, we had to cut off Sagami’s escape.

If she ran away from this, then she would only be able to maintain her self-respect by trashing someone else. She’d have to make it someone else’s fault.

And if she did that, then Sagami would not have changed one bit, and neither would the mood in our class. In fact—it was possible the mood would get even worse for the sake of her pride.

To prevent that, we needed to ensure Sagami would make the decision herself. We had to cut off her path of escape by making her declare that she would be chair of her own accord.

“…”

She didn’t come up with an answer right away.

That surprised me a little.

There was actually no risk for her if she backed out now. If she turned someone of a lower rank in the class into a scapegoat, then she could maintain her reputation. When it came to Haruka and Yukko as well, they were nothing more than ’sup friends from another class; ending the relationship now wouldn’t be a big hit to her. If she ran into them in school, she just had to give them a casual hi, as if she’d forgotten about everything.

I figured the one concern for Sagami now was Hayama, if he was talked into this. And even then, she knew full well that Hayama would never speak badly of anyone, so her pride was safe.

Personally, I thought this gamble had poor odds of success.

But if Yukinoshita had made it, she had a chance. Yukino Yukinoshita was really competitive, so there was no way she’d jump into a losing game without a plan.

Yukinoshita was closely watching every single move Sagami made, every single breath she took.

Sagami let her eyes drift steadily downward under the scrutiny, but she peeked at Yukinoshita and met her eyes.

“…If you’re worried about what happens after, then your concerns are unnecessary. I don’t mind if you leave it all to me.” Yukinoshita struck, kicking her while she was down.

She was pretending to be considerate, but her comment was really once again deeming Sagami’s existence to be worthless. She’d all but said directly that there would be no obstacles to managing this event, whether Sagami was there or not.

Sagami’s cheeks moved just a bit. The corners of her mouth stiffened slightly into a fake smile that barely qualified as a smile at all.

I get it—so this was Yukinoshita’s plan, huh?

She wasn’t criticizing or disparaging Sagami in a concrete manner, but making Sagami realize herself what was behind those words—and then expecting her to rouse herself based on that. Yeah, I’d bet that was her goal.

Sometimes your internal voice torturing yourself is a lot more painful to hear than criticism from other people. If someone tears you down, then you just have to give as good as you get. But if you realize yourself how much you suck and start attacking yourself, then you have no idea who to complain to.

That method of cornering someone is harsh but honest.

But the way Yukinoshita was doing it now was a little different.

This motivational technique is one to use on someone who is internally motivated, someone who shows promise. It won’t work on someone who’s always blamed others. In fact, without any avenue of escape, she would give up.

And Sagami really looked stricken. Her posture sagged, and even her eyes were falling closed.

But Yukinoshita still did not relax her grip. She was ready to push even harder. “Sagami, you—”

“Forget it, Yukinoshita.” I cut her off.

Yukinoshita looked over at me when I did, but I could tell she wasn’t objecting.

I turned away from Sagami and faced Yukinoshita instead. “It’s not gonna end well if you keep going. If Sagami were going to change just because someone told her to, things wouldn’t have gotten this way in the first place.”

You can give the greatest speech in the world, but it would only reach someone who would accept it. If one pithy remark could change someone’s life, then the world would be a happy-happy joy-joy beautiful paradise. Anyone who achieves success from some wise sayings would have achieved that success anyway, no matter what the trigger was.

Words have no inherent power. The question is whether the person who hears them is strong enough.

And on that note, Sagami is definitely not. Oh, she’s not the only one—a lot of people are like that. Like I’m a perfect example.

After my interruption, the meeting room was silent again.

That enabled me to hear this helpless-sounding voice like a mosquito’s buzz.

“…I’ll do it.” Her hollow voice sounded a little hoarse, as if it were struggling to escape her throat. The owner of that voice was glaring at her desk, and her fingers were scrunching her skirt so tightly, they were trembling.

But nevertheless, Minami Sagami had answered.

Miss Hiratsuka unfolded her arms and gently laid them on the desk. She breathed a deep, relieved sigh. “…I see. Well then, we’ll ask you to continue handling it.”

But I couldn’t be relieved. I was actually more anxious than before. How could Minami Sagami choose to continue as the chair?

The Sagami I knew would never have hesitated to take any available escape route; she would even grab the thread of a spider if it were dangled in front of her. And neither Hayama nor the others from our class nor Sagami’s hangers-on were even there.

Those of us with her were all basically her enemies—certainly not her allies, at least.

Meguri, who was the gentlest of us with Sagami, got up and went to stand beside her. “Meaning first, you’ve got to repair your relationship with those girls, huh?”

“…Yeah, that’s right…,” Sagami muttered, not sounding confident.

“I think if you talk about it, they’ll understand,” Meguri chided kindly with a clap on Sagami’s shoulder.

Miss Hiratsuka, watching their exchange, suddenly turned to face us instead. It seemed she’d judged she could leave Sagami to Meguri. “Assuming we leave the coordinating with the crew to Sagami…”

“We’ll be coordinating with the clubs. We have to put things in order before the next meeting and prepare to offer our explanation,” Yukinoshita replied immediately, and Miss Hiratsuka nodded with satisfaction. At that, Yukinoshita took out a ballpoint pen and notebook. “I’ll be the one to confirm all the clubs’ tournament schedules and assign tasks to accommodate that…”

As Yukinoshita swiftly made up her task list, Yuigahama slid back the chair beside her. “Then I’ll contact the captains of the sports clubs. I basically know them all.”

“Yes, please do.” Yukinoshita smiled at Yuigahama, who nodded with an affirmative noise. She seemed glad Yukinoshita was trusting her with that.

“Also, we must look into how much we can reduce the labor necessary for the Chibattle…” Putting her pen to her chin, Yukinoshita considered for a moment. Then she slid her gaze over to me. “…We have one person here whose hands are free,” she said.

“Huh…? Uh, well, um…” That made me look down at my hands. Huh? Are my hands really so worthless? People wouldn’t pay a single yen for them? This is exploitation.

“Well then, you’ll go discuss cutting costs for the Chibattle. The pole pull-down isn’t as high effort, so it should be fine as is,” Yukinoshita said, briskly advancing the discussion when I failed to answer.

“You can tell me to discuss it, but it’s not happening. Don’t give me a job that involves communication. Guys like me are best suited to tasks like making artificial flowers in the corner of a dark room or putting the strawberries on top of cakes at a factory bakery.” Or reading manga in the back room of a convenience store late at night, or returning magazines I don’t like. I mean, I’m not suited to work in the first place. “They say ‘The right person in the right place,’ right?” I repeated the wonderful saying I’d brought up before at some point.

But Yukinoshita was not listening. “Yes, and that’s why. This is something only you can do, isn’t it? Who else could communicate with that…Za, Zai…Zaitsu?”

Yukinoshita was destroying me with logic and facts here. But learn his name already!

“I don’t really feel like I’m communicating with him, though… He doesn’t listen at all, either.”

“Then just text him instead.” And now Yuigahama was arguing me down.

True, maybe we could have some decent exchanges through text. Plus, I wouldn’t have to see his face, so all I had to do was write out what I wanted.

But I hate texting.

Being the one to send the first message kind of makes me feel like a loser, and I hate it. Why does this unwritten rule exist that with texting, the boy always has to be the one to start it? That stupid rule just raises a massive hurdle, and it hits real hard when you send the first message and then get no response. And that’s why you’ll never find a question mark in any of my texts post–middle school, okay?

Well, this time it was Zaimokuza, so whatever. I don’t have to be careful with him at all—in fact, he’ll be okay even if I treat him like less than garbage, so that wasn’t something I had to worry about.

“…Well, I’ll just get it done however,” I replied reluctantly.

Yukinoshita nodded. “Thank you.”

“Mm.”

Zaimokuza was used to his proposals getting shot down anyway. I’d rip him a new one and reject everything about him.

With that, we’d established a system for the division of labor. Yukinoshita was on scheduling and shift coordination, Yuigahama was negotiating with the sports club captains, and I was going to discuss the cost cuts. I could call that a decent win.

I didn’t want to get an even greater workload. I should probably consider myself lucky that this was all I’d gotten. In fact, in terms of actual labor, mine would be the easiest.

But was it okay to leave this much to the girls?

Yuigahama especially would certainly have a large burden. It was quite clear that communicating with the sports clubs would be difficult when these seeds of conflict had been sown. So reducing that burden would be the duty—nay, the destiny of a capable man, a gifted loner elite—a Lolita, if you will. But I didn’t know any club captains, so I couldn’t help Yuiga— Aaahhhhhh, wait! I do, don’t I?! I know a club captain! He’s a real hell of a club captain, my Totsuka—whoops, I mean my acquaintance. I do know one!

That’s gonna trigger my conscience and sense of compassion. This is totally compassion here.

I earnestly lined up excuses for myself. A very important step.

Once I had finished the All-Hachiman Internal Debate Tournament, I cleared my throat as if a thought had just struck me that moment. “Ah, Yuigahama, if you like, I do happen to know Totsuka’s number, so how about I contact him? I mean, if I’m already texting one person, might as well text another. And it’s gonna be hard for you to contact all the clubs, right? Just as a side thing, so you totally don’t have to worry about it.”

It’s important to make excuses to others, too!

But this just confused Yuigahama, and she waved her hands frantically. “Huh? It’s fine, it’s fine, sorry, I know his number, too. Leave it to me!” She made a pair of fists, then puffed out her chest to emphasize her reliability. After such a firm declaration, I couldn’t quibble and fight it. Um, well, I didn’t mean you were unreliable…

And as the finisher, Yuigahama turned away slightly, then looked up at me a little bashfully. “But…um, thanks.”

“…You’re welcome.” Though I hadn’t at all been trying to do her a favor, I was forced to reply with that. Agh, I’d lost my excuse for texting Totsuka. And even worse, it felt like my ulterior motives had been exposed. Ouch.

As my conscience tormented me and brought my spirits low, Miss Hiratsuka opened her mouth. “Now you have a concrete plan, so let’s leave it at that for today.” She smoothly stood and said to Meguri, “Shiromeguri. I’ll lock the door, so you can go home now.”

“Oh, okay!” Meguri had been talking to Sagami this whole time and answered with a raised hand. Then she gently patted Sagami’s back, prompting her to get going home. “Go on, Sagami. We’ll try again next week.”

“…Okay.” Though her voice sounded weak, Sagami did reply, grabbing her bag. And then with Meguri accompanying her, she left the meeting room.

The rest of us soon decided to follow her, and we all picked up our bags and headed for the door. The lights flickered out—Miss Hiratsuka must have flipped the switch.

A voice came from the twilight at my back.

“I’m putting even more on you kids again.” I turned around to see Miss Hiratsuka standing in the rays of the slanting sun. The light was coming from behind her, so I couldn’t see her expression, but her tone was gentler than usual.

“Ohhh, it’s totally okay, though. I’m having lots of fun.”

“And that’s what our club does, after all.”

The replies came from a cheerful voice and then a more refined one.

“You were the one who made me do all this in the first place.”

When I offered my monotone reply, Miss Hiratsuka smiled brightly.

It seemed we were getting further into fall, as the empty entranceway felt even chillier.

Three sets of footsteps echoed sparsely. One ticked out a regular, fixed rhythm, while another pattered in light hops, and the final pair scraped heavily across the floor.

Stuffing her feet into loafers with crushed heels, Yuigahama took a step ahead of me and turned back. “It’s a good thing Sagamin is staying chair, huh?”

“I dunno. I feel like if she did quit, it’d be good for a lot of things, though,” I replied, throwing down my shoes with a smack and then shoving my feet into them.

Yukinoshita walked up quietly from behind. “I’m sure it would, if you were only considering the sports festival.”

“But then nothing’d change, huh?” Yuigahama gave a couple of nods.

Well, that was true. A very reasonable point.

The Service Club had accepted two requests: to make the sports festival a success and to improve Sagami’s reputation, giving her confidence and improving the atmosphere in the class.

It was true that this was a great opportunity to accomplish both requests at the same time. But fulfilling both of these particular requests at once would be a difficult problem.

The bottleneck was Minami Sagami. We couldn’t eliminate or control her. It was a gutsy move to convince her to stay on the pitching mound, given the situation.

I flicked a doubtful look over toward Yukinoshita. “But that was a hell of a way to motivate her. If you push someone like that, normally they’ll quit. If it had been me, I’d have left right there.” That had been way beyond telling her, like, If you’re not into it, then you can just leave. Isn’t that what they call an abuse of power, or a power puff or something? Mm, the latter sounds wrong.

Anyway, Yukinoshita is the type you don’t want mentoring new employees.

But Yukinoshita put her finger to her jaw, tilting her head. Then she declared nonchalantly, “Oh, but didn’t I merely tell the truth?”

“Yeah, it was the truth, but…”

Yeah, yeah, of course it was the truth; you don’t have to be Detective Conan to get that.

But I’m told it’s a new era now. When it comes to training new employees, people say stuff like Don’t be too harsh and Don’t yell at them. Going too far would have the opposite effect.

I gave Yukinoshita a look of deep doubt, but she swept her hair off her shoulders and said carelessly, “…A mouse will bite a cat when it’s cornered, won’t it?”

“…”

Is this the way you nurture talent? You’re not a cat—the way you tear into people is more like a lion or tiger or something, okay?

A cornered mouse biting a cat is cute, and this is not cute. We’re talking lions. She’s bad enough that I could drop proverbs like “A lion will throw its own young into a bottomless ravine and kill it.” “A lion will hunt a rabbit with all its might and kill it.” “One must drive all the insects out of a lion’s body to kill them.”

When I couldn’t find a reply, Yuigahama laughed awkwardly and changed the subject. “…Ah-ha-ha. Uh, but, like, Sagamin really hates you, huh, Hikki?”

“Heh, guess so.”

“You’re proud of it?!” For some reason, Yuigahama was shocked.

You just figured that out? I was fully aware of that long ago. And, like, if she liked me, I’m not sure how I’d feel about myself. You know, like with Hayama.

And it’s not as if Sagami’s the only one who hates me anyway.

“Actually, you know—never mind Sagami; most people hate me,” I said.

Yuigahama pondered awhile before she said, “That’s not what I mean. I think insults from you bother her more than anything. I mean, when you told Yukinon to forget about it, she was really glaring daggers at you…”

“Well, I guess that’s true. If someone you think of as below you talks to you like they’re above you, you’re gonna want to kill them once or twice. Obviously.”

“Uh, I think murder’s kinda extreme, though…” Yuigahama was a little exasperated.

But people will kill over all sorts of stupid reasons, so let’s take care not to invite an untimely death, shall we? Your speech in particular is something you should watch out for.

Usually, who says something has greater weight than what is said. Even if the point is the same. The meaning will change greatly depending on the rank, title, or caste of the one saying it.

That’s exactly why those who are not bound by caste and those who have no further to fall can say whatever they want. Loners are allowed freedom of speech. On the other hand, speech is heavily regulated for those of the top caste. Suppression of speech in this day and age—what sort of totalitarian nation is this? Loners are seriously developed countries, you know?

Ignoring how I’d convinced myself of my superiority to the top caste yet again, Yuigahama clapped her hands like she’d just realized something. “Oh, maybe that’s why Sagamin’s gotten motivated now?”

“Huh?” I asked dumbly. Where did that come from?

Yuigahama trotted over, coming up by Yukinoshita’s side to examine her face. “Hey, Yukinon, did you say that stuff knowing Hikki’d stop you?”

“…Perhaps, or perhaps not. I really couldn’t say,” Yukinoshita replied briefly, and then she briskly went on ahead.

Yuigahama and I exchanged looks. Then she gave me a rather smug smile.

Hey, don’t go reading my game…

The air of the twilight dyed the school building, fields, and everything in crimson. Maybe even my face, too.

A breeze blew in from the open window. When the dead of night approached, the temperature dropped heavily, and in the distance, I could hear insects chirping.

My hands paused over the book I was reading, and I headed to the living room.

I still wasn’t sleepy. The next day was the weekend. There was no school. I could sleep till noon.

It’d be nice to have a cup of coffee and enjoy the long autumn night.

Switching on the light in the living room, I headed for the sink in our kitchen peninsula, twisted on the faucet, and ran some water into the electric kettle. I stopped when I had enough, then briskly set it on the stand and waited awhile for it to boil.

As I watched the electric kettle in the quiet kitchen, I thought back on that day.

On Sagami.

On Haruka and Yukko.

With things like this, I really couldn’t keep saying this wasn’t my business. Since it was clear I couldn’t avoid work here, now the issue would be how much I could reduce my own workload.

My main task was to deal with Zaimokuza, but that was just for the time being. As the planning of the event moved forward, the miscellaneous work would pile up, and then those miscellaneous tasks would be tossed into my lap wholesale, although it was as yet unclear what the scope of that work would be.

Judging from my experience with the cultural festival, I’d be touching on just about everything, wouldn’t I? What the hell, I’m like the newest employee at another Exploitation, Inc.

Depending on how Sagami performed, Yukinoshita would be loaded with more work, and then work would get passed to me. The important thing would be to keep Yukinoshita from wielding that discretion.

Though I doubted I could manage that.

As long as Sagami was the chair, the clear problem would remain, and that was exactly what we’d discussed in the meeting room after school.

But no matter how hopeless she was, as long as she wanted to not be hopeless, then we could reach out to her. I think that’s the ideal of the Service Club that Yukinoshita believes in.

If you have the will, then we offer the way. The issue was how to present that.

As I mulled over the situation, I heard the water boiling.

Well, we’d have to see how Sagami behaved after the weekend, or we wouldn’t be able to come up with countermeasures or anything. She and those girls might just nonchalantly resume their old superficial, friendly relationship…

I dropped that thought there, then dumped a random amount of instant coffee into a mug. When I reached out to the electric kettle, suddenly the door opened timidly.

“What’s up, Bro?”

Looking over, I saw Komachi with a headband that exposed the cold pack stuck on her forehead. It seemed she’d come out for a study break. Kamakura was yawning wide at her feet.

“…Oh, I thought I’d have a coffee. You want some?”

“Yeah!” Komachi answered instantly, then plopped down on the sofa. Kamakura hopped up beside her.

I quickly poured her a coffee, sloshed in some milk and sugar, and carried it to the sofa. “Here.”

“Thanks.” When I handed her the mug, Komachi blew on it to cool it, then put her lips to the rim.

Watching her, I leaned against the counter. “How’s your studying going? Good?” I asked, just meaning to make small talk.

But Komachi sighed deeply. “Study…study…stud…y…” Her words broke off, and her body went still, as if her soul had just wafted out of her. Not good, then.

Maybe there’s no point saying this now, but Komachi is dumb. Nonetheless, she’s shrewd and good at thinking on her feet. She’s also tactful and cute, and she can do all kinds of chores, and she’s good at cooking, too. Whoops! Not sure how I ended up bragging about my little sister instead.

Anyway, if you consider who she is at her core, I think she knows how to study properly. The fact that it doesn’t quite lead to good grades for her is an issue of effort and, more than that, an issue of efficiency.

“Listen, Komachi. With entrance exams, you don’t have to get full points on all subjects. You’ve got to take into account what you’re good at and what you’re not, plus your own potential, and then figure out how you’ll deal with each subject, or you’ll waste time.”

“Bro… Teach me your ways…”

What is wrong with this girl? She was looking at me with hollow eyes while she moaned a low, pained urgh. She must have had people telling her this kind of stuff all the time, as she shook her head like she was shaking it off.

Well, I didn’t want to speak in such vague and abstract terms, either. If your advice isn’t specific, you’re basically going on about yourself.

Now, I should narrow down my point to offer advice. “So what subject are you struggling with?”

“Japanese…,” Komachi said, shoulders listlessly drooping.

“I’ve never struggled with Japanese, so I don’t know how to study it.”

Maybe it’s ’cause I’ve been reading all the time since I was little, but I’ve never struggled on Japanese tests. I can suss out the feelings of the authors in reading question texts, and I can even do the same for the ones who set the questions. Then you just memorize the kanji and classical Japanese vocab and grammar, and you’re done… Since I’d always solved these problems with no issue, I couldn’t understand what part of Japanese Komachi was stuck on or why she got stuck. Sorry your big bro is so competent.

When I gave her a look that said, Anything else? Komachi raised her hand with an ohhh. “Social studies.”

“Just memorize it.”

Social studies is mostly memorization. Whether it’s Japanese history, world history, geography, or civics, all you need to do is memorize. There are entrance exams to some high schools that have essay answers, but if you make sure to memorize those, too, then you’ll have no problem writing them.

When I gave her a look that said, Is there any more? Komachi raised her hand yet again. “Science.”

“That’s also memorization.”

If you’re talking science in general, physics and chemistry will first come to mind, and there’s a tendency to lump it in with math, but I can say definitively that the sciences in high school entrance exams are memorization subjects. It’s true that there are problems you use math for, like with springs or the tilt of stars, or when they want the mass of compounds, but that’s only ever tested at a very, very elementary level. As long as you memorize how to derive it, you just have to mechanically plug in the values.

All right, so assuming we just give up on Japanese, now there’s no problem with those two subjects, I thought, looking over at Komachi, but she wouldn’t look me in the eye. H-huh? What’s wrong, dear sister?

And then, with a somehow resigned sigh, Komachi muttered, “…English.”

“Memorization again.”

For the English on high school entrance exams, you just have to memorize all the vocab and idioms and grammar, and you’re basically okay. It’s an awful way to study, but you’ll ace entrance exams like that, unfortunately. It’s pretty weird for school education to be like that. You’ll never be able to speak English when you learn it like this—seriously, you can’t expect to hold a conversation with foreigners. I can’t even hold a real conversation with Japanese people, and it’s my native language. What does the Ministry of Culture think about that?

Komachi wasn’t listening to me anymore. She was just fooling with Kamakura, poking him in the forehead.

“Um, Komachi?”

“Oh, you’re done? Then next is math,” she asked me in a rather offhand manner.

However, despite all my peerless accomplishments thus far, this was the one thing I didn’t have a good answer for. “…Math, huh? I can’t help you there.”

That 9 percent in math and bottom rank in my year aren’t just for show here. And, like, what’s up with the word mathematics? Doesn’t it kinda sound like masochistic?

“You’re useless…huh, Kaa?” Komachi said as she petted Kamakura, and the cat huffed.

USE—LESS?!

Here I was trying to help her out a bit, and this is the thanks I get. And she was giving me this rather unimpressed look, too…

“Well, this is you, Bro, so Komachi knew that… It’s okay—Komachi doesn’t mind that you’re just being nice without actually helping. And that was worth a lot of Komachi points,” she said kindly, with a look of pity and affection, adding in some points just as a part of the flow. Although I do think it would have been cute without the points, even her shrewd calculating is charming to me these days, unfortunately.

Taking Kamakura in her arms, that cute little Komachi turned to me. “But, like, I’m impressed you got into Soubu when your math is a mess.”

“Yeah, you have a point…”

In middle school, I devoted a fair amount of time to studying math, but I’ve never been any good at it. Once I got into high school and realized that humanities university looked easy, I immediately stopped bothering with it. For regular tests, they’ll let you move on to the next grade if you just do retests and take extra lessons, after all.

If I need to do it, I’ll do it, and if I don’t need to, then I won’t.

People are all like that. Life is just a constant stream of unpleasantries, and therefore, being alive is unpleasant, but you can’t just give up on living.

So then how to deal with it? How to smoothly sidestep the unpleasantries? If you consider what you have to do to accomplish that goal, the answer emerges on its own. And studying methods are just the same thing.

Basically, that was the way I approached dealing with math.

“You know, there’s a way to do things even when you’re struggling,” I said.

And now Komachi eagerly scooted up to my side. “Ohhh, do tell.”

Despite her question, though, it wasn’t that big of a deal… Well, whatever.

This was really the basics of the basics, the elementary of the elementary, but maybe when you’re really stuck, going back to the basics is a part of the process.

I figured I’d give her a brief explanation. “There’s no point in forcing yourself to do something you don’t understand. The major problems, you just sort of tackle based on intuition, while you answer the other stuff perfectly. Long story short, you abandon some of the questions. The success rate for difficult problems is lower than the rest, so you skip them and eliminate errors in the places where you can manage. That’s basically it.”

To resign yourself from square one: That’s the key.

But still, this sort of methodology is something you absorb from taking tests normally, and, well, consciously adopting that strategy might be somewhat effective.

I thought this was pretty standard advice, but when I looked at Komachi, she smiled and softly, dramatically wiped away fake tears. “Bro, that’s the sort of advice Komachi wanted from the start…” If she was pretending to cry, that must mean she accepted it. Well, if something like that would solve her concerns, that was fine.

My long speech had dried out my throat, so I moistened it with coffee. In that same moment, Komachi also brought her cup to her lips.

Then she lifted her face and glanced at me. “But you should still be doing it properly now, though.”

That was indeed a very reasonable view. Someone who doesn’t practice what they preach won’t sound very convincing.

But the world has many things that can’t be resolved or explained with logic.

So I just said one thing: “I…abandoned my future in math…”

“The way you said that was so cool! It’s like you gave up on your dreams!” Komachi’s eyes were sparkling.

“Right? It’s like I abandoned baseball because of an injury but couldn’t leave it behind entirely, and I’ll eventually come back to the diamond, right?”

“Yeah, it’s about as cool as, like, if your right arm’s broken, then you go with your left, and if that’s broken, you switch to batter!”

Oh, really, it was that cool? That’s major-league coolness, huh?

“Ha-ha-ha!”

“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

Komachi and I both laughed… What’s with this eccentric family?

Maybe it was the late-night excitement talking, but both of us were laughing over the dumbest stuff. And then the way things suddenly got quiet after that passed was also particular to the late hour.

Our laughter faded, and Komachi and I both drank our coffee in silence.

“That reminds me, what about getting a recommendation?” I asked her. “Weren’t you on the student council?” I didn’t know exactly where Komachi’s scholastic abilities were at this point, but based on her typical test scores, she was far from getting in. Wondering if there wasn’t some other way, I hit on something: I seemed to recall Komachi had been on student council. I think she’d said something to that effect in the car on the way to camp during summer vacation.

And being on student council would be a pretty juicy position, what with the favor from teachers and recommendations for schools. I mean, like, it seems to me about half the people on student council in middle school are after that. The other half of them have this aspiration because of manga or anime, and then when they actually try it, they get disappointed that the experience is nothing like what they expected.

“You’re an idiot, so wouldn’t it be better for you to get recommendations and stuff rather than betting it on the one shot of victory in exams?” I said.

Komachi smiled boldly. “Heh-heh-heh. Bro… Komachi is an idiot, so she gets bad grades at school, you know?”

Why the heck does she sound so proud…? I thought, exasperated.

Komachi must have hurt herself by saying that out loud, as she clutched her chest with a moan. “So I don’t have the grades for it…” And then she broke down sobbing.

Uh, you brought that on yourself. And you were already after the recommendation, huh…?

But the Hikigaya way is to not look back on the past and mope. I’ve abandoned much of my own past, too. Of course, Komachi being the Ultimate Communication Weapon of the Hikigaya household, she’s also certainly inherited that trait.

Snapping her head up, with a nonchalant look as if nothing had happened, she continued talking totally normal. “You did good on regular tests, too, Bro—you should have tried to get a recommendation.”

“Heh, you fool. I had a bad attitude in class, and the teachers don’t like me. So I never even considered it.” For some reason, I said that triumphantly, too. It seemed that some of the mysterious late-night energy was still lingering inside me.

Komachi nod-nodded. “Hmmmm, I see,” she murmured, as if this convinced her.

Hmm, I dunno about that attitude, though? Big Bro might be feeling a little hurt.

But of course she would accept this. That stuff about my attitude in class and teachers’ impressions of me went without saying, but I was also terrible outside of the core classes. Even if I scraped by on tests for the five main subjects, for the rest of them—gym, art, music, shop, and home economics—that wouldn’t work. It’s a totally evil system where the teachers’ pets win. And then when those teachers are the advisors for specific clubs, they’ll blatantly favor club members and be super-lenient in their assessment of cute girls and students they like. I was not enough of a devil survivor to survive that sort of environment, so I’d wound up basically abandoning all four of those subjects, too.

There was also the fact that Soubu High School was a prep school for university, and if you wanted to get in through recommendation, your total for all nine subjects needed to be at least 40. If you got a 5 in all nine, that’s 45, so it’s a pretty high bar.

Well, I’d never even considered getting a recommendation. Rather than conducting yourself flawlessly for two and a half years and worrying about the numbers on your report card, it’s more efficient to kill yourself studying for half a year.

I learned that just as art quality is not what makes or breaks an anime, the numbers on a report card can only do so much against entrance exams!

Basically, the destination is more important than the journey.

“Well, you just have to get the points on the exam. Do your best.” She was a little far away for a shoulder pat, so I lightly raised my mug.

Komachi responded with a slight raise of her own mug. “Yeah, Komachi will.”

I was saying some pretty stupid stuff, but if this could get her even a little bit more motivated, then that would be enough…

Well, I guess I’ll lie around awhile and read until I fall asleep. I tossed back the rest of my coffee, then circled around to the kitchen to leave my mug in the sink. “Then I’m going to b—”

The instant I started to speak, Komachi shot up. “Yeaaah! Komachi’s going for it, Bro!”

“Huh? To do what?” A night battle? Is it a night battle? Big Bro was planning to go to bed now, though…

As if to say Sheesh, you kids, Kamakura yawned, then stretched wide and left the living room.

The table was piled with reference books and problem collections from past exams. The short hand on the clock had already passed the top, but it seemed Komachi still planned to keep studying.

There was a set of study tools here that she’d brought all the way from her room. Eyeing them, I poured my second cup of coffee that night.

Komachi was looking like she’d hit peak motivation, gripping her mechanical pencil tight. “Bro, Komachi realized. Like with that math test before, there really is a way to study.”

“Oh-ho, that’s some serious progress.” In fact, I wondered why she’d never grasped that until now, but maybe everyone was this way. After all, at school we learn the subjects, but we don’t necessarily learn stuff like how to study or how to take notes. Maybe, when everyone’s all taking the same classes, it’s this discovery that separates the wheat from the chaff.

So now Komachi had reached the trial-and-error stage.

“There’s actually a way to memorize things, too, isn’t there?” she asked.

I thought back on my study methods. Yeah, I had an idea as to that. But some people might find my idea kind of creepy, so I really didn’t want to say it…

“Well, there is, but it’s tailored for me. I don’t know if that style will work for you, too.”

“No, it will!” She could declare that with full confidence, for some reason.

Though I’d waffled a little and given her an ambiguous answer, if she was gonna be like that, I couldn’t keep it from her. When she looked straight at me with those sparkling eyes full of hope, I just had to tell her… “The way you do it…is through association.”

“Be specific!” she demanded.

O-okay… What are you, my boss? If I’m gonna explain stuff or do a presentation, I have to think it through first, or I can’t explain myself…

I picked up a nearby history book and flipped through it. “Okay… For example, world history, here.” I opened it to a section on modern history.

Sliding her chair over, Komachi came up beside me. She was near enough that our elbows touched, and her face was super-close. She’s kinda in the way, and it makes it hard to explain this… But it’s fine.

“With history, you learn it as a course of events.”

“Ohhh, a course of events, huh?” Komachi repeated the words like she didn’t really understand them. People often say to remember things that way, but they don’t explain in detail how specifically to do it, so maybe the concept is difficult to grasp.

I cleared my throat with a hmm. Once my voice was ready, I began speaking in a smooth, low tone. “Once, a long time ago, there lived Ms. America and Ms. USSR…”

“Huh? Wait, what’s this about, Bro?” Komachi stared at me as she jerked away in abject horror. She even pushed her chair away. She was recoiling so hard, I could hear her thoughts: Where’s this coming from? Ew.

You jerk… I’m trying to explain this for you… “Just shut up and listen. I’m telling you how to remember stuff.”

“O-okay…” Komachi stretched her back, then turned to me with a serious look. But she didn’t scoot up to me again, making her big bro a little sad.

Attempting to smother my sadness, I continued in a tearful voice. “Ms. USSR is levelheaded and beautiful, while Ms. America is high-energy and cute. And they’re both bitches.”

“They are?”

“Indeed,” I declared, but, well, I was just assigning them character traits, so it didn’t really matter. If I’m erased by the CIA or the KGB, then you can assume this statement was the cause.

The point was the story these two bitches wove together—what came next.

“The two of them were in the same class, and rivals competing to be the most popular. They both wanted to be on top, so they had spats every so often.”

“That stuff’s pretty common…”

It’s common, huh…? Girls are so scary. I’d meant to hide my shock, but my voice may have shaken a bit as I spoke. “…I guess. But if they were to be openly antagonistic to one another, people would notice—well, let’s say boys would notice. So that made things difficult. So Ms. USSR and Ms. America have a sophisticated information war, harass each other a bit, and, like, they create cliques to battle each other, basically.”

“Information war and harassment…,” Komachi murmured with deep emotion.

“That’s right. They were saying things like I hear that girl is dating that college boy at her work or She wouldn’t say hi to me or Nanoha’s sold out. Stuff like that.”

“Yeah, you see that a lot…”

That’s common, too? Enough, I’m not gonna think about what kids in Komachi’s class are talking about. Concentrate on the explanation, come on.

“That was a conflict between communist and capitalist nations, what’s called the Cold War.”

It seemed that term was familiar to her, as she nodded. If she was getting it so far, then it should be okay to move to the next part. “So as they’re having this dispute, Ms. USSR and Ms. America both hold big secrets that could lead to each other’s destruction. They both have a hold on each other’s weaknesses. What do you think happens?”

“They can’t just mess with each other…”

“That’s right. She might be able to destroy her enemy, but then the inevitable retaliation would cripple her beyond any hope of recovery. If that were to happen, there’s a very real possibility the class would fall apart. In real life, those secrets were nuclear bombs and stuff.”

When both parties have a grasp on a means to destroy the other and are clearly aware of that, it’s called mutually assured destruction.

“That’s basically it.”

“Ohhh… I feel like I get it, but also I kinda don’t.”

Though I’d finished my little speech on the Cold War, Komachi’s reaction wasn’t the greatest. But the important thing here wasn’t what the Cold War was about—the issue was how she would remember things.

“Well, I just explained it in a really basic way. You can anthropomorphize things or whatever, but for history, just remember it as a kind of story. The way you memorize things is to create a framework for it, then flesh it out with details. Just trying to remember a bunch of words isn’t very efficient.”

If you learn it like this, then you can even explain things for essay responses, and you can just bang out answers one after another. That’s my recommended study method. Although there’s no one but Komachi for me to recommend it to.

Komachi’s mouth was open like Huhhh, but it seemed my wisdom was gradually sinking in, and she gave me a little nod. “So basically, you novelize your textbook!”

“That’s the gist. But my way isn’t the only right way, so you should figure out what works for you.”

Upon finishing my explanation, I yawned, thinking I’d be able to go to my room and lie down this time for sure. But through my watering eyes, I could see a blurry Komachi going straight to scribbling something down with her pen.

“Well,” I said, “I guess I’ll stick around for a little longer.”

The sound of her mechanical pencil running across paper rang through the quiet room. Pages turned, her eraser rubbed, and occasionally there was the squeak of a marker’s cap twisting off.

“Will Komachi get in…?” she asked, hands never stopping.

“Dunno… But I hope you do.”

It wasn’t an answer to her question. It was just a hope.

Even if she did go to the same school as me, I doubt she’d bother involving herself with me there—that was how it had been in elementary and middle school. I’m not the kind of family Komachi can brag about. I might brag about my little sister, but she couldn’t brag about me to anyone.

There’s no advantage or necessity to us going to the same high school, but if that’s what Komachi wants, then so be it.

Komachi’s hand paused in her writing, and she looked up from her notebook. Her eyes appeared to be focused on something looming in the near future. “…Yeah. There’s stuff I wanna do, too.”

“Stuff you wanna do? Like clubs and stuff?” I asked.

Komachi paused, momentarily considering. “Hmm… Well, more or less.”

“What club are you gonna join?” I asked.

It seemed she wasn’t going to tell me, though. “Tee-hee, that’s a secret,” she said, winking with her pointer finger up. It was an irritatingly cute gesture.

But no matter what club she would join, there was something I should tell her, just in case. “Just don’t join the Service Club. We don’t even know how long it’s gonna last.”

“Huh? Really?” Komachi stared at me with surprise. Her smile and lighthearted cheer faded.

All that remained was the midnight quiet.

I took a swig of coffee to wash down whatever had caught in my throat. Once it was safely contained, I opened my mouth. “I don’t even know how long I’m gonna be in it, and the same goes for Yuigahama. I don’t know about Yukinoshita, though… So if something happens, I’m sure it’ll just evaporate.”

The club had only three people. And we were already in our second year. Unlike with sports clubs, there was no clear retirement period, but that time could only exist until we graduated. And time isn’t the only reason those relationships could crumble.

Komachi reached out for her coffee and took a drink. Then she made a bitter expression. “Bro…what do you mean, ‘something’?”

“…I dunno.” I smiled and dodged the question.

I think I’d already realized it. I was well aware of it.

Yukino Yukinoshita, Hachiman Hikigaya, Yui Yuigahama—the club composed of just these three people would eventually come to an end. With our different positions, environments, and personalities, our relationships would eventually fall apart.

This wasn’t a phenomenon limited to just us three; the connections between people are fundamentally fragile. Probably far more fragile than I feel they are.

Before I knew it, my gaze had dropped to my coffee. The surface of the black liquid wobbled with unsteady ripples, reflecting an even darker pair of eyes.

“Bro?” Komachi said.

I answered automatically. “I’m listening. So what’d you say?”

“No you’re not…,” she said, exasperated. However, she quickly energized herself again, gripping her mechanical pencil tight. “It’s like, you know, Komachi has to do her best and get into Soubu!”

“Well, whatever. Do your best.” Suppressing the smile that threatened to slip out, I drank the contents of my mug.