2
Minami Sagami aggressively makes a request.
Typhoons meant that either school would be canceled, or it’d start late. Or so I had hoped, once upon a time. But it was not to be; the typhoon passed during the night, and by morning, I was back to my usual daily routine. In the end, the sun was shining bright and perfect in the sky, and I was doing so, so great.
I was not doing great.
I’d thought that at the very least I could use the typhoon as an excuse to be late, so I’d stayed up the previous night. Now I was really tired. With my lack of sleep, I was just about qualified to be the opening song for Kiteretsu.
Typhoons these days are so unmotivated. It sucks.
Though I somehow did make it to school on time, exhaustion reared its head the whole way through. Usually, during breaks, I’d put my head down on my desk and pretend to sleep, but that day, I really was asleep.
And not just on breaks, either. I was battling the sandman in class, too. I tried leaning my cheek on my hand, lying my face on my desk, and pillowing my head between my arms, in my desperation to find the best position. I mean, you know, fighting isn’t nice after all, so it’s best to just settle things peacefully. Yep. I think I’ll stay on friendly terms with the sandman.
Meanwhile, class ended.
I concluded that sandwiching my head between my arms, facedown on my desk, was decent. I didn’t get sleep marks on my face that way. The problem is that it really hurt my neck, shoulders, and back.
At this rate, I could manage a shallow nap at best, and to make it worse, forcing myself into this uncomfortable position was only ramping up the sleepiness. I had to lie down and get some shut-eye, or I wouldn’t feel rested.
Now that it had come to this, there was only one place I could go. I stood up and wobbled over to the rear door of the classroom.
The moment I opened the door…
“Ack!”
“Whoops, sorry,” I said. It wasn’t like I crashed into the other person with a kablam! , but I did feel a slight impact on my chest. I’d bumped into the person coming in right as I was leaving. Hey, who is this person who doesn’t watch where he’s going and shouldn’t get his driver’s license of the year?
I glared at whoever it was, until I got a better look and recognized the familiar squirrel-like boy trembling there oh-so-cutely. He was out of breath as he came into the classroom—the one who really should not get that license because I just want him to be in the passenger seat forever while I drive…of the year, Saika Totsuka.
“Oh, Hachiman. Sorry…”
“O-oh, no! I should be apologizing. I was kinda zoning out there.” To be honest, I’m still zoning out now. Coincidence though it was, I’d ended up catching Totsuka in my arms. Phew… That was close. If Totsuka had been holding bread in his mouth, love would have blossomed right there.
Noticing the position we were frozen in, Totsuka gently pulled away from my chest. “Sorry. It’s because I was in a rush… Where did you mean to go, Hachiman? It’s time for the next class.”
“I’ve just got some stuff.” I couldn’t simply confess that I was going to skip and sleep in the health room. If you’re gonna brag about your crimes like that, do it on Twitter.
Totsuka seemed a bit curious about my answer. “But during the next class, we’re going to decide roles for the cultural festival. So maybe you should stay?”
“Oh, is that right?” In the long homeroom the other day, we’d only decided what the class plan was. In the next class, we’d probably be able to move on to discussing the details.
“Well…I’m okay with anything.” No matter what I did, it’d all be the same anyway. As usual, I’d be no more than present. A being that just is. Once the prep work got started, the most I could expect to do was stand there like an unusual totem pole. No matter what role I was assigned, my life wouldn’t change. I wouldn’t have anything to do, so I’d only sort of hover behind someone, peek at what they were doing, and go, “Hmm…” like I knew what I was talking about and mutter to myself as I waited for someone to ask me to do something. Like a martial arts master who specializes in counterattacks.
“You can just shove me in whatever’s left at the end,” I said.
There was no way for me to know if Totsuka understood what I was thinking, but still, he nodded, his expression a little mystified. “Okay, then.”
I waved a hand casually to say my thanks and left the classroom.
In the hallway, I heard the bell signaling the start of class as I headed for the nurse’s office on the first floor of the special building. As you might expect, there were no students wandering the halls at this hour, and it was silent as I walked along.
It was a little chilly near the nurse’s office. I knocked lightly and opened the front door, and the pungent smell of disinfectant hit my nose. Inside, a girl was chatting with the school nurse. Until I came in anyway. The girl whose name I didn’t know dropped her eyes to her phone uncomfortably. I kinda felt like I’d done something bad. Sorry, tee-hee. :P
“My, my, you’re one of Shizu’s,” said the school nurse, a young woman in a white coat. She watched me intently.
I dunno about that. Talking like Miss Hiratsuka is my mom is bound to make a person angry, y’know. Miss Hiratsuka, mainly. For the implications about her age.
“I kinda feel like I’m getting a cold.” Briefly, I explained the reason I’d come. While I was at it, I also assumed an air of mild exhaustion. Times like these, my acting is flawless. I wouldn’t be surprised if they started calling me the Master of the Cold. Oh man, that title sounds so cool. I mean, even the kanji character for the illness comes from putting “wind” and “evil” together. That’s a pretty distinctly M-2 naming sensibility, there.
“Amateur diagnoses are dangerous. Show me.” But though I’d poured my heart and soul into my performance, the school nurse casually brushed it aside.
Tch. Unsurprisingly, she had a lot of experience dealing with students trying to skip out. This school nurse had seen it all. So she won’t be deceived so easily!
The nurse’s eyes were piercing, as if she were attempting to see through my lies. No, it may be more accurate to say she was leering at me. In the world of Pokémon, my defense would have been reduced. “…You’ve got a cold, all right.”
“That was a fast diagnosis.” What the hell was with that lead-up? I shot her a look of annoyance, partly to protest.
She laughed at me pleasantly. “I mean, your eyes are so dull. You’re clearly sick.”
By that logic, I was sick 24/7. And what do you mean, “dull” anyway? Even dull-skied London turns to Paris once things brighten up.
The nurse scribbled something on her clipboard, then turned back to me. “Now, then. What will you do? Get some rest here?” she asked. And will you equip that right now? I almost expected her to add.
“Oh, sure.”
“The bed at the end,” she replied briefly, and I did as I was told.
It was divided off by a curtain, with a neatly folded thin blanket lying on top. I pulled it over my stomach and lay down.
Beyond the pink curtains, the chat resumed again. Only the sound of their voices remained faintly in my ears as I drifted away.
What…did you say…?
It was just after my break. When I came back to the classroom, I learned that I’d been forced onto the Cultural Festival Committee. On the blackboard was my name, Hikigaya, and underneath it, committee member. Gyawaa! This is conspiracy!
Okay, I know I said I was fine with whatever job was left over. It’d be the same no matter what I did, so I was ready to accept any petty job in silence. But do they feel no pangs of conscience for giving me the job nobody wants to do? Standard procedure for this situation is to toss a loner some harmless and inoffensive job, right? It’s always been that way, at least for me.
The fabled “you weren’t there, so we made you the committee president, lol” method is something popular kids do to each other in good humor, and that’s exactly why it’s been established as a funny joke among themselves. When you pull that with someone from a different cultural sphere…
That’s war…! It doesn’t count…! It doesn’t count!
Dumbfounded, I was standing there in front of the blackboard when I felt a slap on my shoulder.
“I suppose you need an explanation?” Without even turning around, I knew who it was.
H-here she coooomes. The thirtysomething teacher who wants to get married right now, Shizuka Hiratsukaaaaa.
I accepted her offer and wordlessly asked for an explanation.
Miss Hiratsuka blew a short sigh and glanced at the clock. “It was time for the next period, but the class was still quibbling about who’d be on the committee. So we went with you.”
Hold on there, Japanese teacher. You can’t use so in that sentence. There’s no causal relationship here. “What’s this about, Miss Hiratsuka?”
“What do you mean?”
“This is crazy! What do you think a loner is?! Forcing one into the middle of a class event will only bring about tragedy!”
These committees exist for the fun and excitement of social groups. My presence would only have them all walking on eggshells! The teacher could have tossed me into a position where I wouldn’t have much influence, where things would be fine whether I was there or not, where nobody would have had to bother with me, and where we all could have gotten through this comfortably! I’ll take Gandhi’s nonviolent civil disobedience and raise you nonnegotiable noninterference!
“I thought about checking to see what you wanted, but…you did say you were fine with anything, right?”
Oof…, I thought, expelling a sigh. Looking over to the window, I saw Totsuka putting his hands together apologetically. Cute. Oh, pressing the wrinkles of each hand together is happiness. Naamuu.
As I was looking away from Miss Hiratsuka, the wrinkles on each side of her forehead came together. Iron out your wrinkles before you work on mine. Wriiinkllles.
“Just sit down. I have to start class. Decide the rest after school.”
After school, the classroom was chaos.
They were deciding who would be in charge of what for the cultural festival. Typically, they would have made these decisions in the previous class, but it had apparently taken them such a long time to decide who would be the male committee member that Miss Hiratsuka had made the tyrannical decision that it would be me. This is what they call abuse of power…
Ngh! If only I were higher on the ladder! Then I could have forced this onto someone else! Abusing your power all the way down the chain is the core of Japan’s hierarchical society. Recently, I’d been thinking, Man, I’m so Japanese. I’m feeling my Japanese identity rather strongly right now.
So this was why the female committee member had yet to be decided.
The bespectacled class representative was directing the class from the teacher’s podium. I didn’t know his name. People mostly just called him Class Rep. If he had been a girl, then I’m sure she would have the popularity of a committee president character, but unfortunately, it was a boy. I guess “Class Rep” was enough of a name for him.
“Okay, any girls who want to be on the committee, raise your hands,” he said. Obviously, no one was going to react to that. The class rep sighed in resignation. “If we still can’t decide on someone, we could do rock-paper-scissors—”
“Huh?” Miura cut him off.
He seemed scared, as he gulped down the rest of his words. Silencing him with a single syllable—were you born in a temple? Truly incredible.
After that, there was more sporadic chattering in between the silences, over and over. Many times, I witnessed the same exchange: A conversation would start up somewhere, the class rep would suggest that person, and each time, silence fell again.
“Um…is it really hard?” Yuigahama asked, apparently unable to watch anymore.
The class rep looked clearly relieved. “Normally, I don’t think it would be, but…the girl might ultimately end up having a hard time,” he said, glancing over at me. That four-eyes. He just indirectly announced I was DFA. That four-eyes. He’d acted so embarrassed about saying it, too, so I couldn’t even get mad. I just ended up feeling bad. Sorry, Glasses Guy. Now, now. Go ahead, Glasses.
“Hmm…,” Yuigahama said with a conflicted glance my way.
The class rep seemed to take that as hesitation, and he pounced on the chance to go on the attack. “Frankly, it’d be a big help if you did it, Yuigahama. You’re popular, you’ll do a good job bringing the class together, and I think you’re qualified.”
“Well, I’m not really like…” Yuigahama was replying ever-so-shyly when someone interrupted, cold as ice water.
“Wait, you’re gonna do it, Yui?”
“Huh?” Yuigahama turned around to look at the girl. I think her name was…Sagami?
Sagami was in a group with three other girls, some distance away from Yuigahama and her friends. Unlike Miura’s clique, which sat by the window at the very rear of the classroom, Sagami’s was on the hallway side, partway to the back.
“That’s so nice. I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun planning this event with your friend,” said Sagami, and her friends giggled scornfully.
Yuigahama replied with a vague smile. “Mmm. It’s not really like that, though.”
Sagami shot a meaningful look toward me, and the smirk that accompanied it was incredibly ugly. And the giggling whispers she exchanged with the other girls sitting near her were as grating as you could get.
It was completely obvious what their laughter was about. It was just like the day of the fireworks show.
Both of us had to deal with those sneers, scornful but curious. She always from the inside, and me always from the outside. Their snickering lapped at my ears like little wavelets.
“But, like…” A haughty voice cut through the noise like a foot stomping into a thicket, and all the insects went silent. “Yui’s gonna be bringing in guests with me, so she can’t,” Yumiko Miura stated, her attitude decisive and confident.
Sagami’s followers must have been overwhelmed by her intensity, as they fell completely silent.
“Oh, really?” said Sagami. “Yeah, that’s pretty important, too, huh?”
“Y-yeah, yeah!” Yuigahama echoed. “Bringing in guests is important, too… Wait, when did we decide that’s what I’m doing?!” Yuigahama had just been going along with everyone else, so she was caught off guard, too. And I thought only the male committee member had been decided…
For her part, Miura was a little confused by Yuigahama’s reaction. “Uh…w-we’re not doing that together? A-am I wrong? Was I just assuming?”
“It’s okay, Yumiko! You’re basically right. It’s just who you are!” Ebina stuck out her tongue, winked, and gave a thumbs-up. Yeah, well, it really was very Miura, wasn’t it?
“C’mon, Ebina, don’t be so…flattering! It’s embarrassing!” Unfortunately for Miura, blushing bright red as she gave Ebina a whap, the comment was probably not supposed to be flattery.
Off to the side, Yuigahama’s shoulders dropped just a wee bit. “S-so I don’t have the right to decide…”
You only just realized that? But relax. Someone like me doesn’t get any options at all, since Miss Hiratsuka decided for me in her despotic wisdom, and nobody really wanted me in that position anyway. I’m pretty damn unwanted here.
We hadn’t made any progress at all, and the class rep breathed a short sigh. You could feel the grief of middle management in that sigh. “In other words, we’re okay as is?”
Hayama had only been watching, but he finally broke his silence, without raising his hand. Naturally, all eyes gathered on him. The class rep’s glasses sparkled in anticipation.
“We want help from someone with a knack for leadership. How does that sound?”
Hayama’s words were exceedingly respectable, valid, and reasonable. Well, if someone’s going to be in charge of something for the cultural festival, leadership is a must, obviously. The only problem in his phrasing was it sounded like he meant I had none of that. Well, he’s not wrong. The only kind of ship I’ve got is me/Totsuka, apparently.
Anyway, he was saying this job should go to someone of the highest caste. But the boys’ seat was already occupied by me, and clearly, no one was interested in the girls’ seat.
The general sense in such a situation is that if there were no takers from the top caste, then the role would be passed on to the B-group.
Tobe grasped precisely what Hayama was implying. “So why not Sagami?”
“Oh, that might be a good idea. She’d do a good job,” said Hayama. This was exactly the conclusion he’d been steering us toward, yet Hayama acted as if Tobe had convinced him.
Tobe, being Tobe, answered with a smug “Right, man?” or something. He’s a little cute and very pathetic.
Whereas Sagami, suddenly finding herself at the center of the conversation, was waving her hand in front of her face in a tiny gesture of refusal. “What? Me? Could I even do that? No way.” Though her pose said no, she wasn’t the least bit sincere. Come on, I’m a first-rate expert in rejection. You can’t fool me. When a girl is actually turning you down, her face is a mask and her eyes are frigid as she goes, Um, could you stop, seriously? The sheer terror makes your heart freeze over as you wish for death.
Hayama clearly understood that much about the inevitable course of events, as he put his hands together in apology as if he were just making doubly sure. “Would it be possible to ask you, Sagami?”
“Well…if there’s no one else, I guess I have to. Really? Me…?” But even as Sagami grumbled for the benefit of everyone else, she was clearly happy, and her cheeks were pink. Is this Jigoku no Misawa now? Getting a request from Hayama, or rather, being the person Hayama chose to request, probably didn’t feel so bad for her.
“I’ll do it, then,” Sagami replied with feigned reluctance.
The class rep clouded his glasses with a sigh of relief. “All right. Then we’re done for the day,” he said, exhausted, and then everyone filtered out of the classroom.
The committee meetings began that very day.
It was three forty-five in the afternoon, and I mentally confirmed the schedule.
The most vital ability for maintaining a solo position at school is self-management. I have to have a good general grasp of when we’re switching classrooms, which days are holidays, and what the schedule is after school. As for why: because nobody would tell me. I’m an expert in finding out about holidays, especially.
The time of the meeting was looming near, so I started heading to the conference room.
There was a smattering of other people on their way there, too. Some among them were co-ed groups, chatting as they went along. Good grief, you can’t even head to the conference room alone, you lost children in life.
The room assigned to the Cultural Festival Committee was as big as two normal classrooms, with some fairly legit chairs and tables. It was apparently normally used for staff meetings.
When I entered, I found about half of the committee already assembled. Sagami was among them, too. She’d probably left before me. She was also chatting with two other girls. Either they’d been friends before, or they’d become friends very quickly.
“Like, it’s such a relief you’re on the committee, too, Yukko. I was wondering what I’d even do here, you know?”
After Sagami got the ball rolling, the other two reacted. “I’m just doing it ’cause I lost at rock-paper-scissors.”
“Me too! Oh, Sagami, can I call you Minami?”
“Sure, sure. What should I call you?”
“Haruka is fine!”
“Haruka… Wait, you’re on the girls’ basketball team with Yukko, aren’t you?”
“Yep, yep.”
“Nice! Maybe I should’ve joined a club, too. I’ve got no luck with my class.”
“Ohhh, Class F is the one with Miura and stuff, huh?”
“Yeah…” Even dejected as she was, Sagami was a formidable person, but the girl who immediately named Miura in the context of “class luck” was pretty scary herself.
The frightening thing about the way girls talk is that even when there’s nothing nasty about each of their words individually, when you put them all together, it’s deadly venom. It’s a lot like how the trace amounts of poison in some creatures turn into lethal tetrodotoxin when they’re stored inside a puffer fish.
“But you get to be with Hayama, so that’s cool.”
“I guess. He recommended me for the committee, too. Though it’s kind of embarrassing.”
Seriously, who are you—Sagamisawa?
Perking up my ears, I listened in on other groups’ conversations.
Every new arrival created a little stir. As we approached the starting time, the number of people in the room increased, one by one. Each time the door opened, all eyes would turn to the entrance, but once it became clear it wasn’t someone they knew, they’d quietly look away. I don’t like those looks… It’s like they’re announcing, It’s not you I was waiting for. Boring.
But things were completely different with the next person to come in.
The moment the door opened, the loud chattering stopped instantly. It was like someone had slapped a hand over all their mouths as Yukino Yukinoshita walked in with silent footsteps. Her usual overbearing attitude was muted. Everyone had stopped breathing, as if they were watching snow melt away.
Yukinoshita recognized my presence and paused for a moment. But she quickly jerked her gaze away, took a few steps, reconsidered, then took a few more steps toward a nearby empty chair. Until she sat down, time in the conference room was clearly frozen.
I should have been used to her by then, but even I couldn’t help but stare for a moment. Maybe it was seeing her out of her usual context. Or maybe it was because I was surprised to see her here with the Cultural Festival Committee.
Time was already moving again. Though reluctantly, the hushed chatter resumed its ebb and flow. Then right about when the second hand was about to hit the time for the meeting to start, there was a thunder of footsteps, and the door to the conference room clattered open again. A group of students came in holding printouts, with the gym teacher, Atsugi, and Miss Hiratsuka following behind.
Why’s Miss Hiratsuka here? I wondered, looking at her. Our eyes met, and she grinned at me. The smile was much younger and cuter than you would expect from someone her age. That is to say, it was malicious.
I knew it. I’ve been had.
A few of the students gathered at the front of the conference room and looked toward a pleasant sort of girl, who answered with an affirmative nod. At the signal, two apparent first-years began passing out some documents to all of us present. After making sure everyone had their copies, the girl gently rose to her feet. “Now then, let’s begin the Cultural Festival Committee meeting.”
Her medium-length hair fell to her shoulders, and her bangs were held back with a hair clip. Her smooth, pretty forehead gleamed in the light. She wore her uniform entirely according to regulations, but her embroidered lapel badge and the colorful hair elastics around her wrists gave her a cutesy look. As she beamed around at everyone, her orders were somehow pleasant. All the students sat up straighter.
“Um, I’m Meguri Shiromeguri, the student council president. I’m really glad to have the opportunity to join all of you in running another cultural festival this year… U-um, so…l-let’s all do our best! Yeah!” Meguri ended with a simple cheer, and without a moment’s delay, the student council applauded for her. The rest of the crowd followed suit.
Meguri gave a couple of pleasant nods in response. “Thank you very much! All right, then let’s get straight to selecting a committee chair.” The crowd murmured a little.
Well, of course. I’d thought for sure the student council president would also head the committee.
Meguri gave a rather wry smile. “I’m sure many of you already know, but every year, a second-year is selected as chair of the Cultural Festival Committee. I’m, you know, already in third year, so…”
Oh, that makes sense. I mean, you couldn’t do something like this right at the beginning of fall in third year. You’d have to study for entrance exams and stuff.
“Okay then, so do we have any volunteers?”
No hands rose.
No surprise there. I don’t think it’s that the students weren’t into the cultural festival. I think a lot of them were pretty gung ho about it. But wanting to demonstrate your skills, be active, and work hard was a whole ’nother field.
It’s natural to want to work together with your own class or your club as much as possible. You want to be with your close friends and enjoy an emotional event together with that certain someone you’d been thinking about.
This was demanding you to work your ass off with a bunch of randos.
“Anyone?” Meguri said with concern, but the conference room maintained its silence.
Then Atsugi, the gym teacher, cleared his throat like a war cry. “Wagh! Come on, kids, show a little motivation! You don’t have enough ambition! Ambition! Listen up! The cultural festival is your event.” He was so passionate about this, I thought he might end that sentence with a See ya, folks!
Apparently, Atsugi was going to be a teacher-advisor for the cultural festival. Miss Hiratsuka, standing beside him with her arms folded and eyes closed, probably occupied the same role.
Atsugi scanned the conference room, making eye contact with each one of the students, until he came to a halt on Yukinoshita. “Oh…you’re Yukinoshita’s little sister! We’ll be expecting a cultural festival like that old one.” There was an implicit message behind his comment: Of course, you’ll be the committee chair, right?
Meguri seemed to pick up on that, too, and she muttered, “Oh, she’s Haru’s little sister.”
Haruno Yukinoshita strikes again. She must have left quite an impression on both the teachers and her juniors.
“I’ll give my utmost as a regular member of the committee,” Yukinoshita replied very simply, in a manner that wasn’t discourteous. But the twitch of her eyebrow hinted at her slight irritation.
Atsugi knew a flat rejection when he saw it and gave a noncommittal, half-hearted uh-huh or sure and fell silent. That meant it was Meguri’s problem now.
She folded her arms exaggeratedly and groaned, sinking deep into reflection. “Hmm… Um, well, being the committee chair can earn you a lot of brownie points. You know, with the teachers. It might help out a lot for anyone looking for a recommendation to a particular university.”
Is this girl an idiot? That wasn’t going to inspire anyone to volunteer. Now you’d look like you had blatant ulterior motives.
“Um…how about it?” Meguri was still looking at Yukinoshita as she asked.
Whether Yukinoshita noticed or not, she stubbornly refrained from reacting and stared right back.
Yukinoshita doesn’t like standing up in front of a crowd. She’s not the type to chair a committee. But under Meguri’s bright grin, it must have been awkward. Yukinoshita shifted a bit. Perhaps you could call it the pressure of a pure smile. There’s nothing nastier than an innocent gaze.
If Meguri works on her a little longer, I think Yukinoshita will fold…
Just as Yukinoshita blew out a deep, resigned sigh, there was an “Um…” The odd sense of tension slackened all at once.
Breaking the silence was a somewhat timid voice. “If nobody else wants to do it, then I wouldn’t mind.” The source was three seats away from me: Minami Sagami.
Meguri clapped her hands with glee at the offer. “Really? Great! Then can you introduce yourself?” she prompted.
Sagami took a breath. “I’m Minami Sagami, from Class 2-F. I was kinda interested in something like this…and I’ve been hoping this cultural festival might help me grow as a person, I guess… I’m not really good at being a leader, but… Wait, I shouldn’t say that. Then it’d just be like, ‘Don’t do it,’ right? Yeah, that’s something about myself I wanna change. And I think this’ll be a chance to practice some new skills, so I want to do my best.”
Why do we have to help you with your personal growth? I wondered, but it seemed like no one else had any serious objections.
“Yep, yep,” said Meguri, “I think it’s a good idea, too. New skills are important.”
A couple of people clapped, and a smattering of applause continued throughout the classroom. Sagami gave a slightly embarrassed little bob of a bow and then sat in her seat.
Glad they’d found a candidate and settled on her, Meguri muttered a quiet “Yes!” as she stole a marker from the secretary and wrote on the whiteboard Committee chair: Sumo.
Uh, those are the wrong characters. She’s not E. Honda, you know…
Meguri tossed the marker back to the secretary and then, with a flutter of her skirt, spun around to face the room. “Okay then, now we’ll decide everyone’s roles. I’ve written a simple explanation of each section in the meeting overview, so please read those now. I’ll take your requests in about five minutes.”
As instructed, I glanced over the outline that had been handed out to me.
Publicity and Advertisement, Volunteer Management, Equipment Management, Health and Sanitation, Accounting, Records and Miscellaneous…this was all some fancy-sounding stuff. But still, a cultural festival put on by high school kids couldn’t be that complicated. My little sister, Komachi, had been on student council or something back in middle school. It hadn’t seemed that hard. It was a school function after all. You just had to walk firmly down the rails laid down for you. Like in Stand by Me.
I skimmed over the paper. Which one seemed like the least amount of work?
Publicity and Advertisement. Well, I didn’t even have to read the blurb for that one. That was the thing where you went around putting up posters at convenience stores or whatever. You’d have to draw pictures and negotiate with people to get them displayed. The only future I could see for myself there was open humiliation. Pass.
Volunteer Management. You’d be handling the volunteer groups: basically, the people who’d be performing in bands or dancing. Yeah, no. Clearly, you’d have to deal with top-caste people. I have dealt with loan groups, though. No thanks.
Equipment Management. Borrowing the tables the classes would use and managing the transport of electronics, I figured. I couldn’t handle carrying tons and tons of stuff. It sounded super-exhausting. I might be able to carry the beat with some castanets, though. Untan , untan. Ignore that one.
Health and Sanitation. Oh, that’s the one where you have to arrange all the applications for food-related stuff. Maybe I’d have done it if it were health and physical education. Declined.
Accounting. Yeah, yeah, financial matters. Well, if some kind of problem ever did come up, I sure wouldn’t be able to handle it, so I’d be in trouble. Money stuff is scary. Firmly refused.
…I think that just now was a little much, even for me.
So then it was looking like the only thing I could do was Records and Miscellaneous. From what I’d gleaned as I skimmed, about all you had to do was take some pictures the day of the event. It wasn’t like I had any plans for that day anyway. It should make a perfect excuse for killing some time.
After reaching my conclusion, I stretched lightly with a hnn. While I was at it, I looked around the area to see that most of the others had decided as well. They were zoning out, fiddling with their phones, or entertaining themselves with idle chatter.
Some of the loudest among these voices were near me.
“Oh man, I just went and made myself committee chair, didn’t I?”
“It’ll be okay. You can handle it, Sagamin.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. But, like, I feel like what I said was super-embarrassing. It wasn’t too much?”
“No way; it was nice! Besides, we’ll be helping you out, too,” Sagami’s friend said, turning to the other girl for additional support.
The other girl gave her endorsement. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Really? Thanks!”
I heard their whole heartwarming exchange. Wonderful. Just like the sort of beautiful friendship you see before the start of a marathon.
…I felt like I’d seen this exact same exchange a moment ago, too. What is this, déjà vu? Or is it a copypasta? But even if it’s not, man, those types always have the same conversation, every time. It’s like, the only thing that’s different is the topic and the vocabulary, and then at the end, they compliment each other, and it’s over. It looked fun.
“Are we all about done?” Meguri’s voice was surprisingly audible and clear. I’d call it fluffy-wuffy, or fuzzy-wuzzy, or wanyaka-pappa yun-pappa. Maybe that was why it so easily grabbed hold of the fringes of your attention. Unlike how they would’ve reacted if she had yelled, everyone naturally and calmly turned their heads to face her. Maybe it wasn’t a skill she’d cultivated but rather part of her very nature.
“Has everyone basically made up their minds? Then, Sagami, you take it from here.”
“Huh? Me?”
“Yep. I think everything from this point on is going to be the job of the committee chair.”
“Okay…”
Meguri waved Sagami over, like Come on, come on!
Sagami sat down among the student council, almost disappearing into their midst. “W-well then, let’s decide…” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but in the silence, we could hear her fine.
But this wasn’t a stable sort of quiet.
It was the acute, dangerous silence used to attack a foreign body.
It stung awfully. Even one snicker would be enough to set off a storm of harsh criticism and abuse. Sagami had gone from enjoying herself in conversation to an entirely different person.
An individual cut off is so frail.
“First…then…is there anyone who wants to do Publicity and Advertisement…?” Her voice was wilting gradually. No one raised their hands.
“Okay, so, Publicity and Advertisement. You can go to lots of different places! You might even be able to go on TV and radio, too, you know?” Meguri’s inviting remarks swayed my heart for an instant. If we’re talking about television in Chiba, then first on the list is Chiba TV, and if we’re talking radio, then it’s Bay FM. That “Fight! Fight! Chiba!” song that occasionally plays on Chiba TV is so famous, if someone told me I could meet Jaguar at the station, I would have gone for Publicity and Advertisement without a moment’s hesitation.
However, I probably wouldn’t, so I refrained. By the way, I don’t mean the one from Pyu to Fuku, but the one who’s the hero of Chiba.
I don’t know if Meguri’s mysterious helping hand worked or not, but her timely assistance finally got the group into motion. A few hands rose, and once we’d checked off the number of people and their names, we moved on to deciding the next roles.
“Th-then…Volunteer Management,” said Sagami. The volunteers are the stars of the cultural festival, so maybe that’s why hands shot up so fast. Clearly, more than Sagami had predicted. “U-uh…” She was stuck.
Meguri promptly stepped in. “That’s too many! Too many! Rock-paper-scissors, okay?” Meguri’s forehead was sparkling, glittering with eagerness as the Megu-Megu rock-paper-scissors began.
Though her unique brand of enthusiasm didn’t really make sense to me, Meguri managed each item on the agenda, one after the other. Either she just had more experience with this, or it was just in her nature, since she managed every bump in the road smoothly.
From first to last, each committee member’s role was decided in the same manner. Though Meguri may not have seemed so dependable at first glance, she was the president of the student council after all. Thanks to her abilities, the roles were divided up reasonably. By the way, I was neatly installed in “Records and Miscellaneous.”
Perhaps because that category had been decided last, or maybe because everyone had thought the same thing, it was where proactivity went to die.
It was painful when everyone got together with their sections to introduce themselves.
“Um, so what are we going to do?”
“Self-introductions…and stuff?”
“Are we going to do that?”
“Sure.”
“…”
“…”
“Um, who’ll start?”
“Oh, I’ll go, then.”
And so it went. The conversation was so sporadic I started wondering if I was in a field of mushrooms.
Yukinoshita was also among us, as if this were the obvious choice.
Once we finished our self-introductions (which only consisted of our names and which class we were in), the long-awaited rock-paper-scissors match to decide section head began. This match was decidedly pessimistic, as whoever lost would be taking up the role, so this tournament had a wholly different vibe than the previous one to narrow down volunteers.
First, we quarreled about whether to throw down a rock before beginning, then we had our match, and thus it was decided that someone-or-other in third year would be the section head before we promptly dispersed.
“Thanks for your hard work.” We all said the formal farewell and scattered our separate ways. Yukinoshita took the lead and left first. I inserted myself into the flow out the door, too, but right when I was about to leave the conference room…
Minami Sagami was in the corner of the conference room, dejected. She must have been mulling over how her first task as the committee chair hadn’t really gone well. Beside her were her two friends and, for some reason, Miss Hiratsuka and Meguri as well. They must have been discussing future meetings.
When I passed by them, for an instant, Miss Hiratsuka’s eyes met with mine. A wink flew at me with a smack , and she waved a hand. Bye-bye.
…I’m leaving now.
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