8
That’s why their festival won’t end.
As I stood in the school courtyard, the wind whipped up clouds of sand.
I put on a red headband and the first aid team armband, then marched off to the committee tent.
I surveyed the restless, anxious masses around me. They were wearing gym uniforms like me, with red or white headbands in their hands or wrapped around their foreheads, and some of them even had them around their necks.
Some were enthusiastic right from the get-go, while others were complaining (“Man, this is such a drag”).
If it’s such a drag, Tobe, then why did you take such obvious care in tying your headband?
We were blessed by clear weather, and the wind was cool and pleasant. Perfect for some light exercise. Even the walk over to the committee tent felt like a leisurely stroll.
I’d call it the perfect weather for a sports festival.
If I hadn’t had to work as a part of the committee, then I could have enjoyed the pleasant weather outside and the occasional diversion, like watching girls in gym uniforms, or watching girls running like the wind, or watching Totsuka in his gym uniform, but unfortunately, that was not to be.
That day, not only did I have to work as a part of the committee, I was also stationed at the first aid tent, so I couldn’t watch Totsuka running like the wind, or Totsuka doing a crouching start, or Totsuka getting tangled up in the net in the obstacle-course race and writhing sexily. If you get a job, you really do lose.
“The important thing in life is not to triumph but to compete.”
This is a widely known quote from a speech by Baron Pierre de Coubertin, the father of the modern Olympics. But the quote is often misused, and there’s the tendency for it to be used as a threat to force people to participate—though there are a ridiculous number of things in life where it’s useless even to go.
If competing is so important, then competing against the trend of competing is just as important; if everything is an experience, then there should also be value in the experience of not experiencing something. In fact, isn’t not doing something that everyone experiences in itself a valuable experience?
“He’s at it again.”
I turned around to see an exasperated Yuigahama, who’d come to the tent just like I had. Oh, did I say that out loud?
“None of it makes any sense, but his arguments are convincing in the most useless way, and that’s what makes it so awful,” Yukinoshita, who’d come with her, added with a sigh.
Anyway, this was my first time seeing Yukinoshita in her gym uniform. A tracksuit isn’t her style. It’s so unbefitting that the vast difference between her usual look and this one actually does suit her, in a strange way.
But anyway, I had my own point to make. “No, wait. This isn’t my fault; it’s society’s. I’m, like, a necessary evil.”
Good guys can’t exist without bad guys. My existence as a teen failure enables others to enjoy a brilliant youth. This is because people love comparisons. Just the thought that you’re more fortunate than someone else can make you happy.
But Yukinoshita said carelessly, “The majority of self-proclaimed ‘necessary evils’ are just evil.”
“Yeah, you can’t even say for sure if they’re necessary.” Context-wise, I think Yuigahama was just talking about me.
“Um, hey, could you please stop implying that I’m unnecessary?” I weakly protested.
I heard a cheery laugh from inside the tent. It was Meguri. She must have started work before us.
Meguri seemed pretty excited now that the sports festival was here, trotting up to us to give Yukinoshita and Yuigahama shoulder hugs. “You guys all have such perfect teamwork!”
I think all three of us were probably glancing around like, What teamwork…?
But Meguri wasn’t bothered. “Okay! Let’s do this! Hip hip hooray!”
“Uh, hooray…”
How can she be so motivated…? We were slightly weirded out but went along with it anyway. That call-and-response must have been enough to satisfy her, as she nodded along.
Meguri pulled the girls’ shoulders into a tighter hug. Yuigahama blushed a little, startled and shy, while Yukinoshita twisted around in an attempt to escape.
Leaning her face close to the two of them, Meguri closed her eyes. Slowly, savoring the moment, she said, “Thank you, guys, for your advice. I think this’ll be really fun because of you.”
The excitement in her voice had been replaced with serenity.
The original request we’d accepted had been from Meguri. This sports festival would be her last one, and it would probably be the final major event she’d be involved in as student council president. We would make it an exciting success.
She already looked overwhelmed with emotion, but Yukinoshita, in her grasp, gently brushed aside Meguri’s arm and said coolly, “Oh, no, it’s too early for that, Meguri.”
“Huh?” Meguri replied with surprise.
“Well, we’ve only finished half your request.”
It was true that the request was not yet over. I recalled the extra line at the end.
Taking the dazed Meguri’s arm, Yuigahama squeezed it tight. “That’s right! We’ve worked for this, so let’s win!”
Meguri had written in that e-mail that she wanted to win.
This was the one thing that was out of our control. Games are about the luck of the moment, after all. You won’t know until you’ve done it. Still, we could make some effort to raise the odds.
Meguri looked at each of us in turn. When our eyes met, I felt like I could see something sparkling in her eyes. “…Yeah, let’s do our best!”
She swiped across her face once, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye, then smiled her gentle, fluffy smile.
And we did have every intention of winning, but the situation wasn’t great.
After dealing with various matters pertaining to the opening ceremony, I was finally about to take a break when the games started up. Finally, the sports festival had begun.
The event I was participating in was basically a run, and that was it. Once I was done with that, I spent all my time spectating from the first aid tent, and the red team wasn’t doing well.
Through the morning, I’d been thinking, Yeah, well, maybe we can win as I watched, but by the afternoon, the red team’s losing position was becoming clear.
Loss summons further loss—once the losing-battle feeling hits, motivation drops, too. Here and there, I began to see people deliberately slacking off. Pfft, I wasn’t trying or anything, their attitude protested. What, you thought I was taking it seriously? Others were pulling stunts for laughs.
If the ones trying to be funny were the usual suspects for class clownery, then their unfunny jokes wouldn’t have been so bad. I could get it. But once the normal ones—even the quiet types—are succumbing to the shenanigans, that spells disaster. I saw a few people over in the corner saying stuff like That was going too far, man. It was unbearable. I may have been on the first aid team, but we really couldn’t heal the wounds of the heart…
At a school-wide event, it’s safest to act according to your social status.
In fact, are you really being an individual if everyone else is aping for attention, too? Eccentricity does not equal individuality.
The one I might call the personification of that was the central figure of the white team, Hayato Hayama.
Hayama wasn’t particularly trying to stand out. He was just running the relay and gliding through the obstacle course, but he still had something that made him shine. What’s more, in every event he was in, he took first across the board. Of course, this got the girls excited.
Even between games, Hayama, the MVP of the white team, was smiling with a hint of embarrassment at the center of a ring of girls. The reason the sight wasn’t more unpleasant was probably because Tobe and the others were also in the circle, having fun and chattering away.
But the only ones who could look upon such a sight with a smile were outsiders like me, or Hayama’s own circle of friends—only the people on the white team. The boys on the red team were shooting him resentful glares. Zaimokuza in particular. His scorn was intense. Even mine aren’t that rotten.
The exploits of Hayama the MVP combined with the plummeting motivation of the red team after our losses, and the white team was proceeding at an advantage for the whole thing.
When we were approaching the late stages of the competition, I looked up at the scoreboard in the school window and saw they had a pretty big lead. While the white team had 150 points, the red team had 100.
…Maybe this is hopeless now. I dunno.
When I gazed at the distant board with a sigh, I heard a similar sigh from beside me. I looked over to see Yuigahama groaning grumpily.
Well, I understood the feeling. It’s kinda awkward, after that grand gesture…, I was thinking when I saw someone else glaring at the scoreboard with even more gravity.
Quietly folding her arms, Yukinoshita muttered, “…What games remain?”
There was an indescribable force in her tone, and I answered honestly without even thinking. “Huh? Oh, now there’s just the two big events: the Chibattle and the pole pull-down.”
“I see…” She said nothing after that.
Yuigahama and I exchanged a look. And then cluing in, we both nodded.
She’s at it again…
They say that flames that quietly burn blue are hotter than dramatic bright-red flames. Right then, that was Yukinoshita.
She wasn’t giving up at all—she was still thinking about winning. She was as competitive as you can get.
We had a short break, then began preparing for the final two big events. While the captains for the chicken fight were getting changed, we had the other students get lined up.
Though I was with the first aid team, for such a large-scale event like this one, I was also forced to join in and help.
Also, Zaimokuza, the progenitor of this event, had come to help as well, even though nobody had asked for him. He was wearing an armband that said “Production High Command” that looked homemade. I don’t know if this was an expression of his sense of responsibility, or if he just had nothing better to do that day because I couldn’t deal with him, but it was probably the latter. And so I graciously never mentioned the armband to him.
While I was organizing and guiding the lines along with Zaimokuza, the student council, and a few of the crew, I heard some excited chatter.
I turned around at the moment when all the captains were coming over, with Ebina at the head. Yukinoshita was checking her headband as she came to ask me, “You’re done forming the lines?”
“Yeah,” I answered briefly and gestured to them. Please go ahead and take a look, ma’am. Now they just had to wait to head out onto the field, no problem. Still, there was one thing that did worry me. Better ask about that. “…So what are you wearing?”
“…I’d like to know that myself.” Yukinoshita expelled a deep, deep sigh.
She was wearing a loud, overdecorated, and slightly suggestive dress of armor. The materials looked a little cheap, but the flashes of skin between the gap in her arm guards and her shoulders exposed by the open back were very pretty. The breastplate and the arm guards made it look a little heavy, but the lightly fluttering skirt gave a nice, soft contrast.
The armored dress was pretty well-done, considering it had been made in a hurry, but I noticed something strange.
How odd… When I saw the design, I could’ve sworn it was Japanese-style. When did it wind up like this…? It seems there are many black boxes in the production here that I was not made aware of…
Yukinoshita was also worrying over her arm guards, leg guards, and collar and such as if she didn’t know why she’d wound up in an outfit like this.
I wonder what everyone else thinks about this…, I mused, searching for Yuigahama. Gahama, Gahama… Oh, there she is.
Yuigahama was patting at her breastplate, touching the arm guards, and tugging at the skirt experimentally. Then she blushed bright red. “Wow, this is super-embarrassing…”
Well, it’s cosplay in front of all the students in the school, after all…
Ebina appeared satisfied by her shame. Kawasaki stood beside her, also now in costume. Oh, Kawasaki’s wearing one, too, huh? But she looks really grumpy about it… Bet she’s really not a fan of that…
Then she noticed my gaze and gave me a super-red-faced glare. “…What?” Anger seeped into her voice. Terrifying.
But I doubt saying It’s nothing would improve her mood…so I’ll just say whatever. “Oh, uh, well, it looks good on you.”
“…Are you trying to start a fight with me?” Kawasaki responded with an even more threatening tone than before.
That was a compliment… Okay, I get it, I’m sorry. I won’t look anymore, so please stop glowering at me…
After she glared daggers at me, I quietly averted my eyes. They landed on Ebina. She was in cosplay, too, but she had no shame.
“…Are we really gonna go out in these?” Yuigahama asked, looking incredulous, or maybe suspicious, patting at her own costume. The end of her waist cord slipped loose, and Kawasaki breathed a beleaguered sigh, circled around Yuigahama, and tucked it back in.
As if attempting to wash away Yuigahama’s unease, Ebina clapped her on the shoulder. “I mean, it’s a battle. The captain’s gotta make sure to wear her armor.”
“Yeah, but…” Yuigahama twisted around.
“Don’t move,” Kawasaki said sharply, and Yuigahama yelped and went silent.
“But now that we’re wearing these costumes, it really is…” Yukinoshita’s expression darkened slightly.
But it seemed Ebina wasn’t bothered. “Come on, they’re great! Designed by me! Made by Saki-Saki’s Special Costuming!”
“Don’t call me Saki-Saki.”
You guys sure are friendly, huh…? I felt like Ebina and Kawasaki had gotten closer since the cultural festival, surprisingly.
Once Kawasaki was done doing the final costume checks for everyone, she gave them the nod.
Making sure it was all good to go, Yukinoshita did a spin. If ease of movement is what matters to her, then she really is playing this to win, huh?
Yuigahama, on the other hand, still seemed unused to her costume, staring at it with impressed-sounding noises.
Once she was finished checking the range of motion, Yukinoshita gave a satisfied mm-hmm, then said, “But anyway…why are these Western-style?”
Yuigahama tilted her head, equally dubious. “Yeah…isn’t this supposed to be a samurai thing?”
Yeah, just who the heck made these costumes Western-style? Seeking an answer, I looked over at the source of the initial idea, Zaimokuza, and at Kawasaki and Ebina, who would have offered input.
Zaimokuza and Ebina both pushed up their glasses. With the light of the sun on them, the lenses flashed.
““Isn’t it obvious? I just like it that way!””
Oh, I see… There’s no arguing against personal taste…
Maybe this is just how it is on the factory floor, with manufacturing. One way to make things is to realize the idea according to one individual’s plan; another is to allow a few different people to pursue their individual tastes and hope for a chemical reaction.
In that case, there was no cause for disappointment here, except for the ones wearing them. Yukinoshita and Yuigahama were both giving them dull stares.
Meguri, also in costume, walked up to the two of them. She’d been watching them—and enjoying it, if her smile was any indication.
She wrapped an arm around Yukinoshita’s and Yuigahama’s shoulders and smiled brightly. “Come on, now, this is gonna be fun! It’s all good, right?! Let’s turn this game around!” she said as she beckoned them both to the waiting line. It was time to go out onto the field. Ebina and Kawasaki started heading to their positions with the white team forces.
I bid them good luck with a casual wave.
Right as they were passing by…
“If we win this match, it’s thirty points, isn’t it…?”
“Yeah, and if we also win the boys’ game after this, then we can turn this around…”
Yukinoshita and Yuigahama turned back to give me a look. I understood what they were trying to say. The big events were worth thirty points each. If we could win both, then the red team could come back to win the whole competition.
“Yeah, but it’s not that easy…,” I muttered.
We wouldn’t necessarily be able to win in the next event. The white team had been dominating this whole time, so the odds of winning were low.
To say nothing of the fact that the opposing captain was Hayama. He had a knack for this stuff, and with his charisma, the white team’s morale was high. Meanwhile, the red team had halfway given up…
It was unreasonable to ask us to win this.
I felt like Yukinoshita would understand without my saying anything, but she didn’t break her gaze.
“…I keep my promises,” she said, then strode off.
Yuigahama flung her hand into the air and grinned. “Yeah!”
“A one-sided declaration isn’t a promise…,” I muttered, even though I knew they wouldn’t be able to hear.
The battle lines of the red and white teams lined up made for a grand spectacle all on their own, but the captain riders especially stood out from the crowd.
The captains of the red team were Yukinoshita, Yuigahama, and Meguri. Opposing them on the white team were Miura, Kawasaki, and Ebina.
The real story was that there hadn’t been enough time to pick out captains for the Chibattle as well, so we’d mostly just gone with the executives and people we knew.
Everyone knew Meguri, obviously, and both Miura and Yukinoshita had school-wide recognition, so no issues there. Kawasaki wasn’t particularly well-known, but visually, she was no less striking than the other girls. Kawasaki herself had apparently been against it, but Ebina had wormed her way into convincing her.
Once the captain riders got set up astride their “horses,” the players were all ready.
And then there was a shriek of feedback
“Check, check, check…” I heard a voice testing the microphone.
Until now, Miura and Ebina had been the ones doing a casual but exciting commentary and announcements. But all the girls were participating in this event, the Chibattle. For now, they’d switched over the people sitting in the broadcasting seats.
Miura must have ordered them to do this, as it was the usual three stooges sitting in the booth with the mikes.
“Now we’re finally at the finale of the sports festival! So far, the white team’s been in the lead. With Hayato Hayama’s efforts as the chief point-scorer, we’re coming into this match at an advantage.”
That announcement was oddly biased… “We’re coming into this match,” huh…? As expected of Ooka the Virgin. He has absolutely no neutrality.
“But we still don’t know where this game will go…,” Yamato’s dignified voice, on the other hand, stirred up the red team’s hopes.
As the excitement rose among both forces, the announcement reached its most obnoxious volume yet. “Finally, the main event of the festival! This is the girls’ Chiba Citizenry Cavalry Battle—for short, the Chiiiiiibattle!”
Tobe’s strange announcement got the whole crowd chattering noisily. Chibattle is one of those things you hear and you’re a little like, What?
“Now the captains of both forces are all out in formation. In the Chibattle, whoever knocks down the most captains will be the winner.” That was Ooka’s simple explanation of the rules.
There were three captain riders on each side. The players would be protecting them as they either brought down the opponents’ “horses” or stole away their headbands.
The two forces glared at each other, tension building.
Miss Hiratsuka was the one who would be giving the starting signal with the war horn in her hand. She looked excited as she raised it up. Ahhh, yeah, she’d be a fan of this…
She sucked in a big breath as she readied the horn.
A loud PWOOOOO! rang out, and then both forces charged forward simultaneously.
“And now the Chibattle begins!”
While listening to Ooka’s commentary, I followed the movements of the forces with my eyes.
The captains of the white team were gunning for a quick and decisive victory, taking action immediately. Each of them selected opponents to match up against.
The first to attack was Kawasaki. She charged straight in, ignoring the movements of her teammates fanning out around her. Ahead of her was Meguri.
Indeed, Meguri may have been the most obvious target of the red team captains. With her gentle persona, it was hard to imagine her taking more than one hit. But that was a false sense of security.
No, you’re mistaken!
When Meguri discovered Kawasaki, she momentarily panicked, but she quickly pulled herself together and called out to the other players. “Guys! Let’s do this!”
The nearby horses of her team all rushed over. They blocked Kawasaki’s path, becoming a wall that prevented her from reaching Meguri.
This was a technique accomplished by Meguri’s unique character. With these firm defenses stonewalling her, Kawasaki was at a loss for how to attack.
“…Tsk.” With a click of her tongue, she temporarily withdrew, perhaps to reformulate her approach.
So Meguri’s weathered the storm for the moment…, I thought, but my relief was only momentary. I heard a strange cry and a wail coming from the central area.
“Eh-heh-heh-heh, Yuuuuiiii…”
The source of the strange cry was Ebina. She was riding on a “horse” put together by some relatively strong girls from their team, stirring up a cloud of dust as she charged.
“Ahhh, here she comes!”
The source of the wail was Yuigahama. Ebina had found her prey and was reveling in the thrill of the hunt, dogging her all over the field. Yuigahama was half in tears as she fled.
The Yuigahama unit wove around the other horses and riders, desperately turning this way and that, and every time, Ebina spurred her “horse” to charge after. Both units raced all over the battlefield, leaving chaos in their wake.
Those two look like they’re in a stalemate… Well, so long as Yuigahama was still scampering around, there should be nothing to worry about there.
It was a good show and easy to follow—the captains were taking the lead to take down individual opponents, while the audience yelled to cheer them on.
“The narrow battle between captains continues. Whoa, captain versus captain again!”
As everyone cheered wildly, the attention of the crowds followed Ooka’s commentary and turned to the remaining captains. The Yukinoshita unit was moving with extra precision.
She deftly dashed past the horse players who stood in her way, aiming for her opponents’ headbands to snatch them away. Ahead in her path awaited Miura.
Keeping Yukinoshita in her sights, Miura blasted through enemy unit after enemy unit, laying them down like toddlers ready for a nap.
Finally, both units faced off.
Miura smirked at Yukinoshita, and Yukinoshita coolly stared at Miura.
Attention gathered on the standoff between this pair with such contrastive fighting styles.
As if it had been planned, the both of them charged at the exact same moment. Miura’s horse thundered across the ground, while Yukinoshita was soundless, like quietly falling snow.
And then they collided.
The moment the two of them crossed, Miura’s body floated slightly upward.
From a distance, it would look like they’d just passed by each other. But I’d seen those movements before. That was Yukinoshita’s special ability to throw someone while hardly touching them.
“A-an air throw… What the heck, is she Master Asia? Is she going to die at dawn?”
While I was busy being shocked, the Miura horse and rider lost its balance, weakly flopping over. The fall of Miura seemed to break the opposition, and the white team descended into chaos.
Victory was ours.
The war horn rang out loud.
“A brilliant show of skill! Victory for the red team!”
The commentators praised the red team for their win. The audience offered a round of heartening applause to both sides.
They actually won the damn thing…
Sort of shocked and sort of not, I clapped as well.
During the applause, the girls came back. Yukinoshita’s shoulders were heaving with exhaustion, and Yuigahama’s legs were wobbly after eluding Ebina for so long.
“Good game.” I gave them a casual wave, and the both of them high-fived me.
“I leave the rest to you.”
“Counting on you, Hikki.”
“Okay, but…”
Watching the two of them head off to the committee tent, I quietly looked at my own hand.
In the brief break before the pole pull-down game was to begin, I returned to the first aid tent for a moment. Well, this was basically just insurance. When I found what I was searching for, I immediately stuffed it into my pocket.
The commentator seats had been swapped again, and I heard Miura making the announcement. “The next event is the boys’ pole pull-down.”
Right, then I’ve got to head to the entrance gate, too.
The game that was about to happen, the pole pull-down, had very simple rules. Both teams would raise poles, and the team to bring down their opponents’ pole won. It was kind of anticlimactic for Ebina to come up with something so surprisingly normal.
Or so I thought, but then a creepy laugh sounded out low and quiet from the speakers. “Gur-hurr-hurr-hurr. B-boys locked in a grapple to pull down a pole… H-how dirty…”
The sound of a firm smack came after that as Miura gave Ebina a whack on the head and created a burst of feedback.
Ebina is so weird…
I didn’t really care about the noise of the broadcast behind me as I lined up with everyone else waiting. Or I tried to. But there was a bit of a crowd ahead, and I couldn’t quite make my way forward. Geez, outta the way, I mentally complained, and I slithered through them like an eel.
“Oh-ho, is that not Hachiman?!”
On the way, I ran into Zaimokuza.
“Why are there so many people crowded around here?” I asked. If he’d come earlier than I had, he might know something.
But Zaimokuza tilted his head. “Herm? Mayhap there is something ahead.”
“Uh-huh.” Well, whatever. All these people are getting annoying, so let’s just get straight to the front, I thought, but when I proceeded, I found the center of the crowd was empty like the void.
Except for one person.
Wondering what was up, I peered closer to see it was Totsuka, wearing a button-down gakuran-style uniform.
Why is he wearing that…? Thank all that’s holy, I thought as I approached, and Totsuka seemed to notice me, too.
“Hachiman!” Brightly beaming, he rushed up to me. With each stride, his slightly overlarge uniform fluttered.
“Totsuka, that outfit…”
He was so cute, I was suddenly possessed by a sense of duty to figure out just what was going on here. What the heck—whoever came up with this combination has got to be a genius, right? To make Totsuka, a boy, wear a gakuran? Just what kind of Egg of Columbus idea is that…? I don’t even know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. It’s like causality has been reversed and I’m being guided by the Law of Cycles.
Despite my question, though, it seemed Totsuka didn’t really understand himself why he was in this getup. “U-um… I—I kinda ended up being the captain… So they told me to wear this… I-it’s not weird, is it?”
Totsuka grasped the overlong sleeves in his fingers anxiously, shrinking away from people’s gazes a bit. The gakuran was baggy and looked too big for thin little Totsuka; maybe that was a last-minute idea. But that was fine.
“It looks great. It’s not weird at all.”
That’s right, it’s not weird—this is love…
“Herm, this is the first I’ve ever witnessed the moment someone falls in love…,” Zaimokuza said with some dismay, but Totsuka was so cute, I couldn’t really hear him.
Once both the red and white teams were done lining up, we went into the field. Finally, the pole pull-down would begin.
“First, to introduce both the captains: On the white team is the soccer club captain, Hayato Hayama. On the red team is the tennis club captain, Saika Totsuka.” Ebina made her introductory announcement, and the crowd’s attention turned to our leaders.
Totsuka was quite flustered when his name came over the PA. As for Hayama, he casually raised a hand to respond to the cheers, looking calm.
His serenity must also have infected those around him. Morale on the white team side was high, with Hayama and his friends as their main pillar. Their little circle with Hayama in the middle felt very teen.
On the other hand, the red team boys were clearly lacking that enthusiasm. The heavy, dreary atmosphere around us made us look weak.
The only exception was Zaimokuza, beside me, who’d been mumbling to himself for a while now about his delusions. These M-2 syndrome types really like battles and fights like this, and he was throwing out useless factoids about wedges and Vs and the six and three strategies.
I doubt we’re gonna win at this rate… Even before it had begun, I could see the ending. I sighed.
Well, the odds weren’t entirely zero. Staring at my hands, I gathered my thoughts. I would be able to alter the situation slightly, depending on how I drew the cards at my disposal.
“Zaimokuza, I’ve got a secret plan,” I said.
He reacted with a twitch. “A secret plan…? A general must have a tactician. Herm, tell me.”
Good, good, he’s on board. I knew it—just call it a secret plan, and he’s hooked. I didn’t like being treated like his underling, but, well, I’d forgive him this once. Since I was about to bequeath to him a horrible experience.
I whispered quietly into his ear, and Zaimokuza was startled.
“…Huh? You want me to do that?” He broke character for a second.
But I couldn’t have him acting natural now. “No one else can. In Three Kingdoms terms, you’re Guan Yu. Totsuka is Liu Bei. Meaning that at a time like this, you’re the only one to get everyone going and lead the army.”
When I brought up the well-beloved Three Kingdoms stuff, Zaimokuza groaned. “Nghhh.” Then he slapped his knee. “Aye, understood. Leave it to me.”
Good, Zaimokuza’s M-2 switch was flipped. Now he would fear nothing. These M-2 types with the delusions about having special powers can display truly impressive mental fortitude at times. In order to even qualify as an M-2, you need to be so deeply self-absorbed that you are occasionally rendered completely immune to common sense, thus allowing you to share your fantasies aloud or wear a trench coat in the middle of summer.
Zaimokuza strode up to the front of the red team line. He dramatically cleared his throat and then cried aloud, “Your attention, men! Our Supreme Commander has arrived!”
Totsuka was staring dazedly at Zaimokuza like, Huh? Where’d this come from? But when he realized he was the subject of this conversation, he hurriedly stepped forward. “Ah, um, I’m Saika Totsuka, captain of the red team… L-let’s do our best, guys.” Trying to encourage himself as well, he clenched a fist in front of his chest. He seemed a little lacking in confidence, but his earnestness did get across.
I want to protect that smile.
Upon hearing his greeting, Zaimokuza took another step forward. “Our sole foe is Hayato Hayama! Treat the rank-and-file only as checkpoints to be passed! Listen, now is the time for us to realize our dearest ambitions! Will we allow that revolting, stupid stud to steal away even our victory?! I say, nay!! I really wanna win! I don’t want to feel any more pathetic than I already do! I don’t want to move aside every time he walks through the hallway! I don’t want to have to smile awkwardly every time he talks! I don’t want to suddenly fall silent every time he passes close by! Do you concur?!”
Zaimokuza was getting choked up during his tirade. He seemed to be getting too into the act and veering into genuine tragedy.
His super-sad-sack performance created a mysterious energy that washed over the boys of the red team. The white team was also watching from a distance like, What the heck? He was the star of the show now.
“Y-yeah…,” someone stammered in agreement.
“Then what will we do? Victory is our only option! Now is the time of our awakening! Stand, men of Chiba!”
“Yeah!”
Zaimokuza’s ridiculously heated speech was inspiring us. The best part was Totsuka’s address, though. I see everyone’s determined to win this for Totsuka’s sake, huh? Right?
As I observed how the red team was doing, Zaimokuza came up to me, looking satisfied with himself. “Hmph. How do you like that?”
“Yeah, it was good. Attention-grabbing and super weird. Keep doing it.”
“W-weird?” Zaimokuza was a little stricken.
Uh, anyone would think that was weird… But that was what had given it an irresistible force, making everyone want to listen. ’Cause when people aren’t motivated, the first thing you have to get from them is their interest, or they won’t listen to what you have to say.
On that point, Zaimokuza had done well. I’m fairly sure that around the time he got home, he would remember this and wonder, Why did I say something like that…? and roll around in mortified agony. It’s easy to get carried away in the moment, but it can also create emotional scars that will never disappear your whole life long.
Either way, thanks to Zaimokuza’s honorable sacrifice and Totsuka’s smile, the preparations had been laid.
I turned my gaze over to our goal, the white team’s pole. Underneath it was the white team captain, Hayato Hayama. He was pretty far away, but he’d noticed me, too. From a distance, it looked as if he was grinning back at me.
All right, then—let’s do this. Head-on, fair and square, sneakily and viciously like cowards.
The starting gun sounded, and the boys from both teams leaped out.
The cheers swelled, and the men raised their battle cries. The excitement built all the more.
Of everyone, Ebina’s excitement as commentator was the wildest.
“And now it’s begun, the boys’ boy pole pull-down by the boys’ boys! Thrusting in, penetrating the defense! The two forces mingle! First, a preemptive attack from the white team!”
Considering all the stupid stuff she was saying, I could also hear something resembling actual commentary, unfortunately.
Being that morale with the white team was high and Hayama was the captain, unsurprisingly, their team was proficient. They focused their forces, aiming to break through a single point.
Of course, the red team boys, who had no coordination or anything, were quickly scattered, and the enemy was closing in on our pole.
Totsuka and a few boys were underneath the red team’s pole as defense. The white team boys were gathering there.
“A-ack!” In the fierce struggle, Totsuka reflexively ducked and dodged (how cute). If they managed to break past him, too, then there would be no one to protect the pole anymore. Right then, some nearby red team boys came in to support him.
One of those drove off the white team boy facing Totsuka. But the defensive formation had been hit pretty hard.
Seeing what had happened, Totsuka ran up in a panic.
“I-I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay! I can take a hit for you, Captain!”
Totsuka smiled bashfully. “Thanks…”
“…Urk.” The red team defender had looked straight at Totsuka’s smile, and he collapsed on the spot with a strangely serene dying expression.
“The boys of the red team are all idiots, huh…?” I’d been watching the whole thing from the edge of the field, and it seemed the pole would be okay for the moment if I left this to Totsuka and the other defenders. Dragging my legs unenthusiastically yet steadily, I took one step forward, then another.
As I was coming up to center field, I heard a great yell from amid the enemy forces.
“Hebwaaaagh!”
Looking over, I saw Zaimokuza staggering forward in a dramatic death scene, covered in mud. Everyone watched this bizarre behavior from a distance without intervening.
“G-gwaaagh! Th-though Yoshiteru may perish, victory never dies! I have no regrets in life…! W-woe, gerf!”
His very conspicuous death was weirding out both enemy and ally, keeping anyone from approaching.
Clouds of sand billowed up around him. His hair disheveled, coughing and hacking, he continued to stagger along.
Obnoxious, as usual… But now that he had their attention, I could do my job.
Zaimokuza’s dying wails continued to ring out in the distance. The red team’s position was still being attacked, too. Neither enemy nor ally was paying any attention to me.
Best of all, I have a reputation for going unnoticed.
This is the skill I’ve cultivated through many years of lonerdom—Stealth Hikki!
I pulled out the bandage I’d stuffed into my pocket and wrapped it around my head. Now at a glance, I’d look like I was on the white team. Slipping in among the other members of the white team, I broke into the enemy formation—or rather, I ignored them.
Zaimokuza was still wailing like a maniac, and everyone else was reacting to him. If he could just keep drawing them over there…
The white team pole was right ahead. Now all I had to do was amble up to it and knock it down.
Guess I might as well check what kind of defenses they’ve got, I thought, looking up, and that was when a voice suddenly addressed me.
“Hey, I thought you’d come.”
“Hayama…”
Hayato Hayama gave me a pleasant smile. I reflexively replied with a smarmy one.
Without even realizing it, I’d been surrounded by Hayama’s clique.
With a couple of jabs at his own headband, he asked me, “That bandage… Did you hurt your head?”
“Oh, there’s always been something kinda wrong with my head…”
He sounded like he was scolding a child for their mischief; it made even me feel awkward. I pulled off the bandage. Hayama glanced over toward Zaimokuza. He was still staggering around, making noises like gouf! and agg! and bigzam!
“Zaimokuza, was his name? It was a good tactic to make him the decoy… But…” Hayama’s smile vanished then. He pierced me with a serious glare. “There’s no way I’d take my eye off you.”
“…I’m flattered, but I’m not worth it. I’m not that important here.”
But even as I said that, I could feel the pressure around me on my skin. The other boys of the white team were inching toward me.
Hayama noticed me glancing furtively for an escape route and threw down the gauntlet. “The diversion was a good play, but we have teamwork to counter it. Don’t hold it against me.”
“You’re just ganging up on me…”
“Don’t put it like that. We’re just taking advantage of our numerical superiority.” Hayama grinned brightly. What a guy, being able to smile at a time like this. I think he’s pretty twisted, too.
But now was not the time to be analyzing Hayama. I slowly raised my hand. He seemed confused by the gesture. “You surrender?”
An easy assumption to make, given the situation. But that wasn’t it. “No… Zaimokuza!”
I swung down my arm, aiming for the pole.
“Aye, sir!” When I called out to him, Zaimokuza, who’d been rolling around aimlessly nearby, leaped up off the ground and charged for the pole.
“If you’re going with numerical superiority, then we’re going with inertial superiority,” I said with a mean smile at the white forces. For an instant, they didn’t even realize what had happened.
Then Hayama suddenly clued in and swiftly gave instructions. “A decoy for the decoy?! Shoot! Go, go!”
Under his direction, Tobe, Yamato, and Ooka reacted swiftly, running to stop him.
“You ain’t gettin’ by!”
“Come on, if you can!”
“Let’s do this!”
The three of them built a tight huddle to block Zaimokuza’s path. But Zaimokuza never stopped or flinched—he just kept charging on in.
“I COMETH! MOOOVE!”
His rush added acceleration to his weight. It was powerful enough. Knocking aside the trio, Zaimokuza juggernauted straight toward the pole.
The pole rocked. The crowd buzzed, then gulped. The pole rocked back the other way. Everyone widened not their mouths, but their eyes, watching the movements of the pole.
And then it swayed.
The moment the pole fell, cheers exploded. Among those wild cheers, Zaimokuza let out a roar of victory louder than any other.
It really felt like fall now, and the wind passing through the clubroom was cold. It made my warm MAX Coffee especially good.
Steam rose from the teacups atop the desk.
It felt like it had been a while since we’d last spent time in the clubroom like this. A few days had passed since the recent sports festival, and the Service Club had returned to regular operations. Yukinoshita and I would read our books, while Yuigahama would do whatever she does on her phone.
But even so, the sports festival had left some slight ripples behind.
Yukinoshita closed her book with a snap. “I can’t believe we lost, after everything…”
“Yeah… I’m shocked we lost ’cause of foul play.”
The two of them discussed the turn of events as they reached for their teacups. This topic was a little difficult for me to listen to.
“We would have won if a certain someone hadn’t tried to pull something foolish with his headband…,” Yukinoshita said with a glance over at me. She was evidently displeased with the result of the sports festival the other day. Unsurprising, knowing who she was.
“H-hey now, it’s not all Hikki’s fault.” Picking up on the gathering storm, Yuigahama defended me.
But in Yukinon’s eyes, anything less than a nonpareil performance was nonfeasance. Is that why Yuigahama calls her that?
“Though that is essentially what happened…,” Yukinoshita said.
As the two of them said to the point about the sports festival, the red team lost. Worst of all, the reason was because of rule breaking in the final game, the pole pull-down.
When the results had been announced during the closing ceremony, it had been a real mess.
The one in charge of announcing those results had been Sagami, the committee chair.
“Regarding the pole pull-down, it has been determined that both teams have engaged in dangerous behavior and broken the rules. The game has been invalidated, and both teams receive no points for it. We will be informing everyone of the details in due course.”
After that brief statement, she’d said nothing more, and the white team had been given a tentative victory.
The practical issue here was that in a competition like the pole pull-down where a whole bunch of people were crowded together, you couldn’t monitor each individual’s moves. Some players would sneakily get up after being knocked down, and others might get kind of violent or replace their headbands.
Of course, there were immediate protests. Some had also questioned specifically what rules had been broken and who had done it.
But it was difficult to explain in detail about the rule breaking that had gone on, since you wouldn’t be able to say for sure unless you knew everything that everyone had done during the match. This was almost like demanding proof of the unprovable, like ghosts or cryptids or whatever. Fundamentally, the burden of proof was on the committee, being that they were in charge of supervision, but so long as the committee revealed nothing, nobody would know the truth.
Thanks to this, my breaking of the rules had not been made public. Well, there was also no proof that anyone else hadn’t broken the rules.
“Well, our venerable chair made that decision, so it’s fine. Whatever,” I said.
Yukinoshita gave me a cold look. “I suspect you lack remorse…,” she said.
I had no reply for her. For some reason, Yukinoshita and Yuigahama were both fully aware that I had broken the rules, and they understood that the aforementioned announcement from Sagami was about me.
Of course, I’d been completely exposed, so I couldn’t bring myself to play dumb. “Well, sorry… I thought nobody was looking…,” I apologized without much enthusiasm.
“Bad!” Yuigahama stuck a finger up like she was giving me a little lecture. “I mean, people do watch you quite a bit, you know?”
“Yes, when you took out that bandage, I wondered just what you were going to do.” Yukinoshita sighed in exasperation.
I see—so if she was watching then, she definitely noticed me breaking the rules…
“Oh, you were watching him, too, Yukinon?” Yuigahama said with surprise, turning toward Yukinoshita. It seemed she had also witnessed my misdemeanor.
Yukinoshita blinked a few times. “…I just happened to be,” she replied quietly, and then she returned her interest to her book.
“Don’t…”
Well, you know, your eyes tend go to people you know when you’re watching team sports. I’d been staring at them a lot during the Chibattle myself, so my grumbling quieted a bit.
Yuigahama picked up on the darkening atmosphere and changed the subject with extra cheer. “W-well, you know! Meguri was glad!”
That had been the one saving grace.
Though the red team had lost, it seemed Meguri had enjoyed making the memory. I’d wanted us to win for her, if we could, but, well, things weren’t going to work out that easily.
Yukinoshita smiled softly at Yuigahama’s remark. “She was. Plus, Sagami must have had her reasons to make an announcement like that.”
“I dunno about that.”
I don’t really believe people can grow or change. At the end of the day, our core is what it is.
But I think we can learn how to keep up appearances, to put on an act, or how to distance ourselves. We can put a lid on our emotions so we don’t end up hating each other, and we can learn to pretend we don’t see things. Is it right? I don’t know.
“But losing a school sports festival is surprisingly frustrating. This was the first I’ve ever experienced that,” Yukinoshita said. It seemed the memory was reawakening her spirit of competition.
“Yeah, let’s win next year!” Yuigahama said, full of spirit.
Yukinoshita gave her a faint smile. “…Yes, next year for sure.”
“It won’t necessarily be the same teams next year.”
“Why do you always have to say stuff like that?” Yuigahama grumbled.
With a bit more cool, Yukinoshita grinned. “That’s right. It’ll be more fun with Hikigaya as the enemy.”
“You’re suddenly really into this idea!”
Watching their exchange, I found myself smiling a bit. This was a trivial, mundane exchange, but right after a big event like the sports festival, it had been sorely missed. I’d become used to this daily routine before I even noticed. One day, I’ll be used to my life without it, too.
Or maybe the real mundane routine is the experience of gaining something and then losing it, itself. I wanted to swallow those emotions, though, so I tossed back my MAX Coffee all at once to help them go down sweeter.
Watching the two girls messing around together from the corner of my eye, I quietly got to my feet.
“I’m gonna go buy myself another coffee.” Without really waiting for a response, I left the clubroom.
The fall wind was blowing through the special-use building.
A window had been left open, and I could hear shouts from the sports clubs. Now that the sports festival was over, they’d gone back to their usual routine.
Haruka and Yukko would also be among them. The whole incident was still unsettled, as was their relationship with Sagami. Eventually, everyone would forget about the process and results of the sports festival, and it would all be weathered away.
I walked slowly through the emptied-out school building and down the stairs.
Right when I was about to turn into the hallway, I almost bumped into someone.
I lifted my head, thinking, Who is it? Watch out! and there was Minami Sagami.
She was holding a stack of papers, and I saw the words Sports Festival dancing across one of them. It looked like she still had some post-event committee matters to deal with.
“…”
“…”
We both kept our eyes pointed away from one another as we fell silent.
But then suddenly, Sagami opened her mouth. “Hey, could you move?” she asked, but she didn’t really look at me. As usual, we were two parallel lines.
Without a word, I ceded the way to her.
All I heard after that was the sound of her receding footsteps.
But still, you know. I’d call that major progress.
I doubted it’d be immediately, but I figured Sagami and I would be able to successfully maintain the relationship of strangers from now on.
Listening to her footsteps moving farther away, I started off, too.
And so another festival was done, and what’s done is done.
Sometimes there are no take-backs. But whether you’re crying or laughing, life goes on, and your time in high school will come to an end.
That’s why their festival won’t end.
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