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10

Finally, he and she find the right answers.

The ending ceremony proceeded without any issues.

But Sagami’s closing remarks were a mess. She got flustered and bungled her lines, of course, skipping over parts, and she even forgot to announce the merit award, too. Each time she made a mistake, Yukinoshita was there, calmly holding up cue cards. And finally, tears began to spill from Sagami’s eyes.

Everyone else must have thought she was crying because it meant so much to her. People called out to her with all kinds of remarks: “You can do it!” and “It was great!” and “Thank you!”

I didn’t believe for a second that she’d been crying because she was touched. I think she was crying either over her own worthlessness or in frustration, like, Why is this happening to me? But I do think that when she cried afterward, when she was done with her formal remarks and general comments, she was genuinely touched. The kind words people said to her after she’d hit rock bottom would leave the deepest impression. Though I did find this rather regrettable, since I was the one who had made her feel like crap in the first place.

As Sagami walked offstage to the wings, her makeup smudged and streaked, she looked exhausted. Her retinue of friends immediately rushed to her side like she was a marathon runner who’d reached her goal.

“Are you okay?”

“Things would’ve been fine if he hadn’t said anything.”

“That really messed you up, huh?” It seemed news of my deeds had traveled, and the entire cultural committee was glaring daggers at me.

The intelligence must have circulated to my classmates, too, as everyone in 2-F was glancing at me as they conversed in hushed tones. It was quite a bed of needles.

There were a number of familiar voices among the murmurs. “Yeah, right? Hikitani’s a real jerk! He did the exact thing before, too, during summer vacation.”

Damn you, Tobe…

“Well…he does have a sharp tongue. He doesn’t come off that way if you really talk to him, though.”

“You’re so nice, Hayato.” That was Miura.

“Hayato is sticking up for Hikitani… Yesterday’s enemy is today’s homobfshhht!”

“Hey, Ebina, keep it under wraps, seriously. Look, your nose is bleeding. C’mon, blow, blow.”

Yuigahama was laughing nervously the whole time, while Totsuka shot me a look of concern. I smiled back to say this was nothing to me and watched my classmates leave the gym.

Even after all the classes were gone, there was still committee work left to do. I busied myself retrieving the sound and video equipment from the stage area and backstage. The full committee participated in the final job of the day. To an outsider, it seemed they’d somehow gained a real sense of unity. Well, it’s kinda weird to say I was “an outsider” as a member myself, though.

“Committee, attention!” shouted the gym teacher, Atsugi, once we’d finished most of the work. He was sort of in charge of this cultural festival stuff, so we all shuffled in to gather in front of him. “Okay, it looks like there’s still some more cleanup left to do, but first: nice work, kids. This was a pretty good cultural festival, and I’ve seen quite a few. Don’t get carried away at the after-party and get up to trouble. See ya, folks.” Considering how authoritarian he’d sounded when he first spoke to the committee, his remarks were pretty kind.

There was a cheer, then some applause. Everyone thanked everyone else for their trouble and praised one another for their efforts, creating a unified storm of emotion. Meguri found Sagami off to one side and gave her a light push on the back. “Go on, Chair.”

“Huh? But…”

Apparently, Sagami realized Meguri was asking for a speech, and she hesitated.

At the beginning of it all, she’d been a poor manager; in the middle stages, she’d confused everyone; at the end, she’d even abandoned the whole committee; and once it was over, she’d ended up a mess. It was no surprise she was hesitant now.

“You’re the chair,” Yukinoshita said coolly, stating the obvious fact. If the failures and the regrets of the chair belonged to Sagami, then the honors and commendations did, too.

“…Yeah.” Sagami gave a small, pensive nod. “Um, I’m sorry for causing so much trouble…but I’m glad everything ended well… Thank you so much. Good job, everyone.”

“Thank you!” There was one last crisp formality, and then we were dismissed. The girls hugged, while the boys gave each other high fives. Sagami turned to Yukinoshita and dipped her head in a tiny bow.

It was finally over…

Leaving the circle of the cultural committee, I breathed a long sigh.

While everyone was chatting, I went back to the classroom. They were talking about the after-party that night, too. I would likely not be invited. Someone could invite me out of kindness or formality’s sake or hating leaving someone out, but even if I did go, there would be nothing for me to do but eat anyway.

Waves of exhaustion slowed my pace. Everyone was passing me by.

That included Sagami and her friends, and for an instant, their conversation stopped. Their eyes were kind of fixed forward as they avoided looking in my direction at all.

You aren’t going hard enough here, Sagami. If you’re really going to ignore someone, you do it without even being aware of it.

I discovered Meguri in the flow of people, and she noticed me, too. She walked toward me. “…It’s over, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Her expression dark, she commented, “You really are thoughtless and nasty.”

She must have heard about what happened from Sagami, or from her friends. Well, even if she didn’t, her impression of me couldn’t be good. I couldn’t argue with what she’d said. All I could do was apologize. “Sorry…”

“…But I had fun. I’m glad that my last cultural festival was a good one. Thank you,” she said, and then with her pleasant smile, she waved good-bye and left.

This had been Meguri’s final cultural festival. I think as the student council president, there were some things she couldn’t yield on. Maybe that wasn’t why, but she must have been glad there were no large external issues, at least. I felt relieved, just a bit.

“Are you fine with this?” The question came from behind me.

I shot back the obvious answer. “Yeah. This is fine.”

“I see.”

Misunderstandings can never be resolved. But you can ask new questions. If you ask again, the answers you’ll get may not be right, but they’re the answers I like. So this was fine.

I slowed my pace a bit.

The gym was almost entirely empty when the steady footsteps tapped closer, and Yukino Yukinoshita walked up to my side. “…You really will save anyone, won’t you?”

“What?” I asked back. I didn’t get what she meant.

“Normally, Sagami wouldn’t have gotten away with abandoning her responsibilities and running off like that. But once she came back, she was the victim of your cruel remarks. She had testimony not only from her own hangers-on, but from Hayama, too. Indisputable.”

“You’re reading too much into this. I don’t think that far ahead.”

“Oh? But that’s where things went, ultimately. So I think I can safely say you saved her.”

No. What I did shouldn’t be acknowledged in that way. My actions shouldn’t be approved of or admired. They should be decried and denounced.

By the time we’d reached the gym exit, I finally came up with an appropriate-seeming reply. “Well, even if you’re right, none of it would’ve worked if Hayama hadn’t been there. So you can’t really say it was because of me.”

Yukinoshita fell silent, frowning slightly.

“Ohhh, so modest, as usual!” The voice resembled Yukinoshita’s somewhat, but when I turned toward her, she was shaking her head as if to deny she’d said anything. And then suddenly, I noticed.

“…Haruno, you’re still here?” said Yukinoshita. “Why don’t you just go now?”

Haruno Yukinoshita and Miss Hiratsuka stepped out from beside the door to the gym. Miss Hiratsuka was standing with a cigarette in one hand, while Haruno was changed and ready to leave. It looked like the two of them had been hanging out there, chatting.

Haruno smacked my shoulder a couple of times. “Oh, you really are something, Hikigaya. Everyone’s been telling me about it. I love how you play the heel like that. You might be wasted on Yukino-chan.”

“What’s being wasted is my time, in this conversation. Leave, already,” Yukinoshita snapped haughtily.

Haruno pretended to be deeply wounded. “How cold, Yukino-chan! Didn’t we play in a band together? We’re such close sisters!”

That clearly irked Yukinoshita, as her eyebrows twitched upward. “I’m impressed you can say that after you sped up the way you did. You know, I was forced to keep up with your tempo.”

“What’s the problem? It got us all pumped up! Right, Hikigaya?”

“Yeah, everyone did look pretty into it,” I said.

Yukinoshita blinked her eyes two, three times. “…You were watching?” Apparently, she’d assumed I hadn’t been there. It was true that I’d come back pretty close to the end, so she must not have known about it. She wouldn’t have been able to tell from the stage anyway.

“Just at the end. Well…you know. I guess it was pretty good. I was impressed.” I’m sure I should have been complimenting her for a thousand other things, but I couldn’t find the words. All that came out was a halting, clumsy review.

As I offered my vague and meaningless remarks, Yukinoshita jerked her face away. “Th-that… It… It was pretty far from perfect, considering I made more than a mistake or two, and the worst part was that we weren’t at all together—the audience was excited for it, but it might have been unlistenable under calmer circumstances, and the reason for all this was our lack of practice, which played a major role, but the issue was rooted in the band’s general lack of cohesion, and even saying that, I should have been carrying the melody, but I ended up holding back the piece as a whole, and as a result…”

“Ohhh, someone’s being shy! You’re so cute, Yukino-chan!” Haruno teased her.

Yukinoshita cleared her throat, then glared at her sister. “…Why don’t you go now, Haruno?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going! See you later, then. That was fun. I’m sure our mother would be surprised to hear about today…don’t you think?” Haruno smiled as if testing her younger sister, and Yukinoshita’s expression stiffened. Haruno eyed her, then turned away and marched off. I don’t know what Yukinoshita thought of Haruno’s parting remarks. Their circumstances were still a mystery to me.

Once Haruno was some distance away, Miss Hiratsuka rolled up her sleeve to check her watch. “…It’s just about time for the final homeroom class. You head back to the room, too.”

“All right. Bye, then.” Yukinoshita unfroze, said a casual farewell to Miss Hiratsuka, then started walking away.

I followed after her. “I’ll get going then, too.”

“Hikigaya…” Miss Hiratsuka called out to stop me. Her voice was heavy.

When I turned around, I saw her giving me a worried smile. “I wonder what I should say. There was your slogan suggestion and then the incident with Sagami… Ultimately, I think you’ve played a large role in this. It was your actions that got the cultural committee functioning and made you Sagami’s scapegoat.” She cut off there. She must have been pausing to prepare—not because she wasn’t ready to say it, but because I might not be. “But I can’t bring myself to honestly commend you for it.” Suddenly, her hand reached out for my cheek. She touched me gently, not allowing me to look away.

“Hikigaya, helping someone else is no excuse to hurt yourself.” Her soft fingers struck an odd contrast with the faint smell of her cigarettes. Her moist eyes seemed to pierce my soul.

“Eh, it’s not like that was enough to hurt me, though…”

“Even if you’re used to it…you need to realize now that some of us find it painful to watch you get hurt.” She patted my shoulder. “That’s it for my lecture. Go.”

“Uh-huh…” My reply was a farewell that didn’t even count as words. Then I headed for the classroom.

But even after turning in to the hallway, I felt as if her kind eyes were still watching me go.

The enthusiasm of the cultural festival had yet to die down in the classroom. It was abuzz with chatter and activity. The end-of-day homeroom was just a formality, so once the class rep was done with his closing remarks, the whole class just talked about the after-party.

That meant it had nothing to do with me. I even felt the wordless implication that I couldn’t come, even if I wanted to. If someone were to invite me out of sympathy, refusing would make me feel bad, so I quickly collected my things and left the classroom.

Suddenly, I wondered which after-party Sagami would join, the committee one or the class one. It was a pointless thing to be worried about.

The wreckage of each class’s friendships and passions were strewn about the hallway.

The next day was Sunday, a holiday. Monday was a holiday to replace the Saturday we’d spent at school. On Tuesday, all classes would be using the whole first half of the day to clean everything up. Everything would probably be left here until then, monuments to our memories. Then, once it was all cleaned up, they’d immediately go to work again preparing for some new high school event. I was bound to get roped into helping with the cleanup, too. As of now, my excuse of being on the Cultural Festival Committee was invalid.

 

 

 

 

…Well, even if it was, I still had some miscellaneous work to deal with.

I adjusted my bag on my shoulder. Inside it were some reports and memos that my section had to sort out. The rest of the Records and Miscellaneous crew had entrusted these papers to me, and aggregating all these notes into a final report was to be my last job. Before I clickity-clicked it all into the computer, I had to sift through all the information and scribble together a summary of the contents.

I knew I’d fall asleep if I did this at home, and it was Saturday, so all the family restaurants would be crowded. There might be other kids there killing time until the after-party, too. I wanted to avoid working on this there.

My feet automatically carried me to a quiet place where I’d be able to concentrate. As I walked down the empty hallway of the special building, I noticed a chill in the air. We were getting deeper into fall. It had been six months since I’d begun walking through this hall because of club.

I arrived at the Service Club room and put my hand on the door. Suddenly, I realized I didn’t have the key. Usually, I wouldn’t be the first to arrive, so I’d never worried about it before. But that day, there was no guarantee that another person would be there.


I figured I’d give up and go home, and I was about to pull my hand away from the door—but the handle felt oddly loose.

Resolutely, I opened the door.

It was quite a normal room, nothing strange about it.

What made it feel so different was the presence of the girl inside. She was quietly running her pen along a page in the slanting rays of the sun. The sight was so picturesque, I even began to fantasize that after the world ended she was bound to remain right there, doing the same thing for eternity.

When I saw her, I stopped, body and soul.

—In spite of myself, I was entranced.

Yukinoshita noticed I was just standing there, and she gently laid her pen on the table. “My. Welcome, Sir School Pariah.”

“Are you trying to start a fight?”

“What about the after-party? You’re not going?”

“Don’t ask me that when you already know the answer,” I shot back.

Yukinoshita smiled pleasantly. She was sure to say something infuriating again, with that charming smile on her face. “So? Your thoughts on having everyone genuinely hate you?”

“Heh. It’s nice to have people acknowledging your existence,” I said.

Yukinoshita put her hand to her temple to relieve an apparent headache and sighed. “I don’t know whether to be shocked or exasperated. You really are strange…though I don’t really mind how you acknowledge your own weaknesses.”

“Yeah, neither do I. In fact, I love that about myself.” Yay, I’m the best. I’m so cool for trying to do my job well, even when people are sniping at me. If I didn’t encourage myself, I think my spirit would break.

I pulled all the memos out of my bag and began sorting them. I’d been about to forget why I’d come. Speaking of which, why was Yukinoshita here? “So what’re you doing here?”

“I have to fill out my career path form. I was so busy preparing for the cultural festival, I just wasn’t able to find the time. Things have finally calmed down enough for me to fill it out,” Yukinoshita replied, and she picked up her pen. But her hand remained still. Her mouth moved instead. “What did you come here for?”

“To put together a report. I wanted a quiet place where I could concentrate,” I answered as I scribbled away with my pen.

Yukinoshita stared at my hand. “I see… We were thinking along similar lines.”

“Loners choose from a narrow set of options. It’s just the result of our convergent evolution. It’s not that we’re similar at all.”

Yukinoshita and I had most likely just come to this room in search of a quiet place. Neither of us had a wide range of behavior in the first place, so this sort of thing only happened because our habitat range overlapped. In actuality, if she lived the next town over, we would hardly ever encounter each other at all. We were only meeting like this because we went to the same school.

I’d put it this way: Even if we were both alone, Yukinoshita and I were completely different creatures.

That’s right.

We’re not alike at all.

I think that’s why these conversations we have always feel so refreshing and comfortable.

I felt the lingering heat of the festival smoldering inside me. I’d asked the question over again and derived a new answer. Now it had become a proper conclusion.

—So then…

—She and I…

“Hey, Yukinoshita. Me and—”

“I’m sorry; it’s impossible.”

“Agh! I didn’t even finish saying it!”

Having rejected me pretty damn firmly, Yukinoshita was giggling in amusement. “Didn’t I say it before? You and I are never going to be friends.”

“Is that right?”

“It is. I never lie.” Though her tongue may slip, and she may speak without thinking.

But I couldn’t let her comment slide. I’d made up my mind that I wouldn’t force my ideals on people. I figured it was about time for me and Yukinoshita to be released from that spell.

“Well, you can lie if you want. I lie a lot, too.” In fact, I lie and lie and lie relentlessly. That’s me. “It’s no big deal to say you don’t know about something when you actually do. What’s weird is forcing it out of you.” That alone would probably be enough to make her understand—what, and when, I was talking about.

The morning of the entrance ceremony.

On the first day of high school, I got into a traffic accident. I’d gotten myself so excited for the entrance ceremony and my new life that I’d left home an hour early, and that was where my luck had run out.

It must have been around seven in the morning. Yuigahama had been walking her dog near the school, and she had let go of the leash. Then, right at the worst moment, a limousine had come along with Yukinoshita inside.

That was how the accident had happened. And that accident was how Yukino Yukinoshita had met Hachiman Hikigaya.

But even after that, Yukinoshita had claimed not to know me. She’d never brought up the accident—Yukinoshita, the one known to say more than was strictly necessary in her crisp, brusque way.

A long, long silence went on.

Dusk was closing in on the clubroom, and Yukinoshita’s head was still tilted down. She was motionless. Only her voice came toward me. “…I wasn’t lying. I didn’t know you.” It seemed to be like a do-over of some conversation we’d had once before.

But what came next was different.

She lifted her head. She looked me straight in the eye and smiled. “But…now I do.”

From that expression, finally, I understood. “Is that right?”

“It is,” she said triumphantly.

It’s no use. I can’t beat her. If she’s gonna be so cute when she says that to me, I can’t argue with her.

Suddenly, the words of the fox crossed my mind: Words are the source of misunderstandings.

That’s exactly right.

Misunderstandings can’t be undone. There are no take-backs in life, and when you get the answers wrong, you’re stuck with the consequences. So that’s why you tirelessly ask the questions over again—so you can discover newer, more correct answers.

 

 

 

 

Yukinoshita and I hadn’t known each other.

What does it take to be able to say you “know” someone? I hadn’t understood that—even though if I’d just looked at us both, I would have gotten it. What is essential is invisible to the eye—because without even realizing it, your eyes have shifted.

I—

We—

We’d finally come to know each other, over the course of nearly six months. Our character portraits were just names and fragments of impressions, pieced together into a mosaic of false perceptions. I’m sure our impressions didn’t reflect the truth. But…

Well, for now, that was fine.

The long vacation and short festival were over, and finally, the trivial and hopeless mundanity had come back.

A light rapping sounded on the door, like the footsteps of our humdrum lives returning. “Yahallo!” Yui Yuigahama opened the door.

But I couldn’t think of any reason she would come here. Shouldn’t she have been out at some after-party right about then? “Yuigahama? Do you need something?” I asked.

“Nice work on the cultural festival, guys! So let’s all go to the kouyasai!”

“No. What is a kouyasai anyway?”

“You didn’t even know, and you still turned it down?! Hey, so, Yukinon, let’s go!” Yuigahama plopped down in her usual seat next to Yukinoshita and, like a spoiled child, shook her by the shoulders.

Yukinoshita’s expression said she was mildly annoyed, but she didn’t push Yuigahama away. “I don’t really know anything about it, either. What is it?” she asked.

Yuigahama looked up into the air for a few moments. “U-um…kinda like a really big after-party, sorta…?”

“You’re not even sure yourself,” I muttered. Her carelessness made me shudder.

Yukinoshita put a hand to her chin with a hmm. “Based on the sound of the word, can I take it that it’s the opposite of a zenyasai?” That is to say, the party on the eve of an event.

“That’s it!” Yuigahama commended Yukinoshita for the correct answer with a pointed finger. Was that actually right, though? Yuigahama continued her untrustworthy explanation. “Hayato and the others planned it. They said they reserved the live music house near the station! They were talking about how we’re inviting not just people from our own class, but lots of other people, too…”

“I see,” said Yukinoshita. “So that’s why you came to invite Hikigaya as well.”

“Uh, but I’m in her class. I’m invited as a member of the former category. Right? Yuigahama?” Uneasy, I ended up double-checking with her.

“Yeah, only just. Hayato was saying you should be invited, too.”

“Oh yeah? Does that ‘just’ have a double meaning? Is he only trying to be fair? ’Cause I’d be the one to turn that down. I don’t want Hayama doing me any favors.” There’s nothing more painful and sad than being invited out of pity. I think the superficial politeness just makes both parties unhappy. It should hurry up and go out of style.

As if to calm my anger, Yukinoshita admonished me in a slow and quiet tone. “You don’t have to refuse him so aggressively. You should be thankful for his offer. Why don’t you have them let you into their clique? As their foil.”

“Hey, what would I even be foiling? Their attempts to have fun? And why am I getting cast as the foil here? Could you not just slap a role one me without my consent?” Someone like me couldn’t even be a foil in the first place. At best, I’m an NPC, and at worst, a lackey. There’s the possibility I don’t even have a role at all.

“H-hey, come on, now,” said Yuigahama. “We’ve got this chance, so let’s go!”

“I’m fine. If I went, I’d just be alone in the corner leaning against the wall anyway. My presence would kill the vibe, and then I’d feel bad,” I said, going back to putting together my report.

Work is nice… It’s an extremely convenient excuse to refuse things. Once I become a corporate slave, it’ll accelerate my lonerdom.

“He has a point,” Yukinoshita agreed. “Besides, the kouyasai isn’t organized by the cultural committee, so I can’t see any reason to go.”

“Huh? Hikki’s doing work, so there’s no helping that, but you, Yukinon…” Yuigahama trailed off.

Yukinoshita then started writing something.

“What’re you writing, Yukinon?”

“I’m filling out a career path form.”

“Hmm… Then I’ll wait until you’re done!”

“I never said I’d go…,” Yukinoshita replied, somewhat bewildered.

But Yuigahama was watching over her, grinning. It looked like she had set herself up to wait.

Oh, Yuigahama’s gonna drag her away, all right. If she says she’s gonna wait, she really will do it. She’s a loyal dog.

The red light of the setting sun was streaming into the clubroom.

The festival was over.

There are no take-backs in life. Even this one hopeless act in the play of life will eventually be gone.

Certain I would regret that loss one day, I concluded my report.



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