1
In the storm, Hachiman Hikigaya continues to slide.
The curtains swayed in the fall wind. Crimson-tinged wisps of cloud peeked out from behind the fluttering cloth. The window was open a crack to let the air in.
My eyes flicked over to it two, three times, and my hand stopped in the middle of turning a page. Those tiny, distracting movements in my periphery were getting on my nerves. I couldn’t concentrate at all.
Sitting diagonally opposite me at the long table was a girl.
Yukinoshita had not so much as twitched in some time. Her gaze was pinned to the paperback in her hands, silently tracing the lines on the page. Since her back was to the window, the curtains were out of her field of vision.
Maybe I should’ve sat on that side, too, I thought, but since we’d both already settled in, going to the trouble of moving now would literally put me in an awkward position. Usually, I seated myself a little farther away from the window in the shade, while Yukinoshita always sat with the gentle touch of the light on her back. But now that we were entering into fall, the setting sun was looking dark. The days were getting shorter.
Summer vacation had ended, and we were a few days into September. Daytime weather was still very summery at this stage, but around this time, when sunset was approaching, cold winds would suddenly blow in.
The second semester had begun, but that didn’t mean my lifestyle had changed much. Yukinoshita and I were still coming regularly to club. Even though all we did there was read. As Yukinoshita and I diligently buried our noses in books, Yuigahama fiddled with her sparkly, gem-studded, obnoxious cell phone.
The window frame rattled noisily in an especially strong gust.
The curtains flapped and waved, and my book blew to a different page. Curtaaaaaain! The curtains had really been asserting their presence for a while now. Curtain, curtain! Are you Bonchuu now?
It was irritating the hell out of me, so I glared at the window and clicked my tongue. The wind was obnoxious, too, but the curtains were far more so for just going along with it. Do you guys have no sense of individuality? The only things allowed to sway in the breeze are the balls flying over Marine Field and the skirts of cute girls.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, a skirt did indeed flutter as Yuigahama stood from her seat, about a chair and a half away, and went to shut the window with a snap. Her skirt had been so animated, I’d wondered if there was a Pokémon under there. I almost tried to capture it. Phew, nearly lost control of my pocket monster, there…
“The wind’s picking up, huh?” she said.
The only reply was the rattling of the window.
Not one to be discouraged by the lack of reaction, Yuigahama spoke again. “I heard there’s gonna be a storm.” Now that she’d spoken twice, both Yukinoshita and I were forced to lift our heads from our books. Yuigahama looked a little relieved. “The weather was nice all break, and now this happens, huh?”
“Was it? Seemed pretty dark to me.” I thought back on it, but I didn’t have many memories of bright, sunny days. I only remember those when I go outside…
“You wouldn’t know, Hikki, ’cause you never leave the house.” Yuigahama gave me a little snort. Yeah, that was true.
“I mean…it’s just, blackout curtains do their job, you know?”
“Were they doing maintenance on your grid all summer or something?” Yuigahama asked, her expression puzzled.
“What?” I asked back, equally puzzled.
“Huh?” Confusion on both our faces, we stared at each other until we both figured out we weren’t talking about the same thing. Hey, come on, now. She can’t have been asking that question seriously. Oh man, this girl is scary.
Yukinoshita, who was probably listening to this hopeless exchange, closed her book with a snap and ventured, “Just…in case, I’ll explain… Blackout curtains are curtains that block out light. You’re thinking of a rolling blackout.”
Yuigahama paused briefly before she answered with some surprise. “Huh? Oh…o-of course! Yeah…I—I knew that…” At the end, she was avoiding our eyes completely.
I had pity on her and made a token attempt at helping her save face. “Well, you know, light blocking has an ancient and honorable origin for us Japanese. We even have those light-blocking clay figures. Historically speaking, it’s in our blood.” Abhorring the light, we are the people who have shouldered the fate of an affinity for darkness—the Japanese. Whoa, that was a pretty M-2 way to put that.
“Oh, really?! Yeah, now that you mention it, maybe you’re right. I don’t think pit houses and stuff like that had windows.” Yuigahama gave me an appreciative ohhh.
Yukinoshita, meanwhile, had her hand on her forehead to hold back her headache as she breathed a short sigh. “Shakouki doguu are called ‘light blocking’ because they appeared to be wearing the snow goggles the Inuit wore to prevent snow blindness. It has nothing to do with blocking light in any way.” Her voice was quiet and gentle as a whisper, but perfectly clear in the otherwise deathly silent room.
“Oh, really? H-huh…”
Yukinoshita was acting abnormally shy, considering she was in the middle of smugly revealing Yuigahama’s ignorance. Nobody was going to talk now that she was like this. Worst of all, I couldn’t come up with a snappy retort for her.
“…”
“…”
Maybe Yukinoshita decided to have mercy, since she ended her criticisms there.
After that, she went back to her reading, while I leaned on my cheek and flipped through my paperback with my free hand.
I could hear the wind howling in the distance. Phew, phew—I guess even the great outdoors is tired of this.
Someone cleared their throat, and it sounded incredibly loud.
Before I knew it, I could hear the second hand ticking.
I doubt humans differ much when it comes to sensing awkward silences.
As if she’d just remembered something, Yuigahama took a deep breath. “Hikki, you should seriously go outside more. Isn’t that how you make vitamin C?”
“I think you mean vitamin D,” I replied. “Making vitamin C? Are you Lemon-chan or something? Humans don’t generate their own vitamin C.”
“They don’t?”
“Yep. And by the way, you can make enough vitamin D just by getting some sun for thirty minutes twice a week. Therefore, there’s no need for me to go out of my way to leave the house,” I told her pompously. I may be a humanities type, but I know plenty of trivia. In fact, that might even be part of being a humanities type.
Apparently shocked by my wealth of knowledge, Yuigahama shuddered. “Why do you know so much about this? Are you a health maniac? Creepy…”
That was pretty harsh. “…My parents said something like that to me, too, once, so I looked it up.”
“Are you that desperate to avoid leaving the house…?”
“How very like you, Hikikomori-kun,” said Yukinoshita.
“Leave me alone…” I was about to add, And how do you know my middle school–era nickname? But I stopped short. Yeah…no need to mention that. I mean, like, that comeback just wasn’t funny enough to say out loud. You know what I’m saying? Keeping my mouth shut was the right choice. It happens sometimes: Someone starts a conversation, you get carried away with your witty remarks, and then everyone goes dead silent.
Suddenly remembering a similar situation, I squirmed.
But even though I hadn’t said it, everyone was still silent.
“…”
“…”
Yukinoshita didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow. She seemed bored as she looked at the pages of her paperback.
Her lack of response must have bothered Yuigahama, as she laughed to fill the silence. “Ah…ah-ha-ha… Hikki is a total hikki, am I right?”
“Hey now, ever since ancient times, this has been the most righteous and sacred lifestyle. Even the chief goddess of Japanese myth, Amaterasu Oomikami, went full shut-in.” I will emulate the myths and stay in my house. I will follow in the footsteps of the divine; in other words, I will become the god of the new world.
“The gods of Japanese myth aren’t all righteous, though,” said Yukinoshita.
“Huh? Really?” Yuigahama asked.
“Yeah. It’s pretty common in polytheism.” The gods actually do a lot of crazy stuff. If you read a lot of myths, you’ll find a whole host of outrageous tales.
Yuigahama hmm’d appreciatively in response. “The word god gives you the impression they’re perfect, though.”
If we’re talking the capital G “God,” that might be the rule, but when you say kami in Japanese, that’s not all they are. These gods are not all-knowing, all-powerful beings of absolute justice.
As I ruminated on these thoughts, the following words suddenly rolled out of my mouth: “Well…you shouldn’t try to fit anyone into a specific mold. Not gods or anyone else.” I wasn’t particularly expecting a reply from anyone. I was just making the most of my talent for monologuing.
After a long pause, the quiet reply was nearly drowned out by the sound of a page turning. “…Indeed.” I doubt she was looking for a reply herself. She wasn’t looking at anyone or talking to anyone.
You can’t fit people into a mold.
Gods are the only ones you’re allowed to expect perfection from.
You can’t expect anyone to meet your ideals.
It’s weakness. An evil to be abhorred. Carelessness to be punished. It’s a spoiled and naive thing to do, both to yourself and to others. The only person you’re ever allowed to be disappointed in is yourself. The only person you’re ever allowed to hurt is yourself. Just hate yourself for failing to meet your ideals.
The only one you can’t forgive should be you.
“…”
“…”
The conversation came to a halt, and the air turned thick with tension. The seconds ticked by. Even though the windows were closed, the frozen time was making the room very cold.
“Uh, um…” Yuigahama’s head whipped back and forth between me and Yukinoshita, and then her shoulders slumped dramatically.
Lately, all our exchanges had been like this. For days on end, we’d done our best to talk, tried to take a conversation somewhere. After two or three days of this, Yuigahama was, unsurprisingly, tired.
The wind slapped against the window, shattering the silence. The glass rattled, and the air in the clubroom shivered. Yuigahama glanced outside for an opportunity to continue the conversation. “It’s gotten real bad out there, huh? If the Keiyo Line stops, you won’t be able to go home, huh, Yukinon?”
“Yes.”
Right, Yukinoshita took the Keiyo Line to school, if I recalled.
When a really large, powerful typhoon hits the Kanto area, Chiba becomes a lone island off its shore. All the railway lines on the network are paralyzed: the Keiyo Line first, then the Sobu Line, Joban Line, Musashino Line, Keisei Line, Tozai Line, and Toei Shinjuku Line. All of Chiba gets cut off from the rest of Japan, and it’s halfway down the road to independence.
Come to think of it, Chiba does have a lot of railroads, doesn’t it? Aside from all the above, we have ones like Choshi Dentetsu and Kominato Tetsudou that are all nice and gone to seed. The Uchifusa Line and the Sotofusa Line are also pretty major, but unfortunately, when you’re living close to Tokyo, you can’t tell the difference. Sometimes you get them mixed up in an honest mistake, and people get really pissed. The anger of the people of Chiba is like a blazing fire!
Anyway, when a typhoon hits, it causes a number of interruptions in the transportation network around the metropolitan area. Yukinoshita would probably be affected one way or another.
“Right? So, I live pretty close…” Yuigahama trailed off.
The silence struck me as odd, so I looked and saw that Yukinoshita was utterly miserable. “…It’s all right. If that happens, I’ll walk home.”
“O-oh. So it’s not so far you can’t walk…”
Yukinoshita lived about two stations away from the school. It really wasn’t an unwalkable distance.
Yuigahama mustered her cheer again and spoke to me. “You ride your bike, Hikki?”
“Yeah,” I answered, then glanced out the window. Fortunately, it wasn’t raining yet. I had brought an umbrella, but I’d have preferred to avoid walking home with it up in these strong winds.
“Why don’t you take the bus home on days like this?”
“Buses are crowded, so I don’t wanna.” Besides, most of the riders would be students from our school. If a classmate ended up next to me on the bus, it’d be a disaster. As long as it’s someone who can ignore me, it’s fine. But when someone I kinda know notices I’m there and stops chatting with their friends, it makes me feel really bad. It plagues my heart with guilt. So much guilt that I want to apologize for being born, like I’m Dazai or something.
And worst of all, if I got on the bus now, I’d end up going home at the same time as Yuigahama. And you know her. She’d definitely try to strike up a conversation.
—And if people saw us like that…
I always felt bad whenever people saw Yui Yuigahama being friendly with someone from the lowest caste. I didn’t want to make her relive the experience of the fireworks show.
I just had to go home before the weather got any worse.
As the wind picked up strength, even the athletic clubs were starting to beat a retreat. Even if we did stay, I doubted anyone would come to consult with us. And just as the thought occurred to me, the door to the clubroom banged open before the sliding noise could even warn us that we had a visitor.
“You kids are still here?” Miss Hiratsuka, the Service Club’s teacher-advisor, entered without knocking as she always did. “The other clubs are already finishing up. You all go home early, before the weather worsens.”
When Yukinoshita heard that, she closed her book with a snap. “Let’s end it here for today.” The low-hanging clouds outside darkened everything in the clubroom, even Yukinoshita’s expression.
“Right, then… Take care, you all.” Miss Hiratsuka seemed concerned for Yukinoshita, but she walked out without saying anything more.
Neither Yuigahama nor I offered any objections. We just packed up our things and left.
“…I’m going to go return the key,” said Yukinoshita, and she strode off down the empty hallway without another word. I didn’t watch her go; I just headed for the entrance. Yuigahama seemed a bit unsure about what to do, but about three seconds later, she followed after me.
Neither of us said a word until we put on our outdoor shoes. The only sound in the deserted entryway was the plop of my loafers hitting the ground. I stuffed my feet into them and went outside. “I’m taking my bike,” I said.
“Okay. Bye.” Yui gave a little wave in front of her chest, and we exchanged our short farewells.
The wind was oddly tepid. Must have brought in some humidity from the south.
I frantically pedaled my bicycle into the headwind. I’d been abusing my city bike for over a year now, and it creaked and whined to let me know.
No matter how I pedaled and pedaled, I didn’t feel like I was getting anywhere. I was even starting to feel like I was being pushed backward. The wind was so strong, it nearly broke my spirit, but I kept the pedals turning.
Twilight came earlier now, but the sun hadn’t completely set yet. However, thick clouds obscured what natural light would have remained. Lampposts stood at regular intervals, shining unreliably, and plastic bags and empty cans tumbled along the road.
I could smell wet earth in the dark, and then black spots began to appear on the asphalt. One by one, the stains increased, each one accompanied by a loud plip.
Eventually, the black covered the whole ground. The drops were pouring down in a rush with no concern at all for me, hitting my bare arms so hard it stung a little. The mercilessly pounding raindrops turned my white uniform shirt translucent. Too bad there were no high school girls around.
What a pain in the ass. What the hell, man… I grumbled under my breath, and then I pulled my umbrella off my bicycle and deployed it to shield me.
An instant later, a blast of wind broke it entirely. The ribs snapped and pointed every which way, and the plastic part became a sail. The wind drags me away, ah, like a yacht. I lost my balance, panicked, and put my feet on the ground.
…I’d just about fallen on my face. Wiping off the cold sweat and rainwater, I surrendered and folded up my broken umbrella.
This really is a pain in the ass.
The wind was drowning out all the other sounds, and I could hardly keep my eyes open in the driving rain. My drenched clothing was leeching away my body heat, and the added weight from the water made my body feel heavy. My vision was already fogging up.
In the rain, everything just thoughtlessly skims along the surface—tires, words, thoughts.
I could see the Hanami River from my route, spitting out an endless flood of dark water to wash away everything.
Only I was left behind in the storm.
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