3
Hina Ebina’s musical is homoerotic, as expected. (Part 2)
It was one month until the cultural festival, and the school was a flurry of activity.
Starting that day, we were allowed to stay behind in the classroom to prepare. In other classrooms, students were carrying in cardboard boxes and setting up paints, and the easily excitable types were bringing in snacks and drinks to start up a party for everyone and get attention for their generosity.
Class 2-F’s prep was moving right along, too. Hayama was addressing the room from the teacher’s podium. “Okay, let’s decide the staff and the cast. Ebina’s handling the script, so would anyone else be interested in the other roles?” He wrote down the jobs that needed to be filled on the blackboard.
The results:
Direction: Hina Ebina
Production: Hina Ebina
Script: Hina Ebina
And so the dream staffing was complete. She was probably the only one could manage those anyway… I guess you’d call that “total creative control,” or maybe being a super-producer.
But those creative roles aside, the principal staff were decided as follows:
Production Assistant: Yui Yuigahama
Publicity and Advertisement: Yumiko Miura
If the girls weren’t going to be cast in the play, obviously they would be doing this sort of work.
All right, now the problems would begin.
A play needs actors, of course, and this play had male leads, too. In fact, it was all guys. It was a stud-studded Little Prince. Some benevolent impulse did inspire them to ask for volunteers, but not a single person wanted to star in the play. Well, no wonder, considering that plot.
“Um, you don’t have to worry about the character descriptions we saw earlier, okay? We’re not going to depict anything blatant.” Hayama attempted to salvage the situation, but once that image was in your head, you could never quite get it out again. A strange silence hung over the boys.
“We’ve got no choice…,” said Hina Ebina, her glasses glinting perversely—er, assertively—as she took the stand.
It was the casting board from hell. She ignored the class’s clamoring and wrote down names for all the roles—apparently, she was ready to exercise her authority as creative lead to the fullest.
First, Ebina filled in the supporting cast. Chalk clicking, she wrote names in under the roles such as the Rose, the King, and the Vain Man.
“Nooo!” “Anything but the Geographer!” “But my Matterhorn!” Cries of the dying erupted with each and every name. The very lowest levels of the abyss were unfurling before me.
And then she revealed the main cast.
The Prince: Hayama
Hayama froze. He looked a little pale. But you could hear a few girls squeeing. Well, it was a main role, so it made sense to pick someone who would attract an audience.
Now then, as for the other lead…
As I watched Ebina’s hands, the white lines there transformed into very familiar shapes.
The Narrator: Hikigaya
“Uh…there’s no way.” The remark left my mouth the moment I saw my name.
Ebina had been listening eagerly, and she acted scandalized. “Huh?! But Hayama/Hikitani doujin is a must-buy! In fact, it’s a must-gay!”
What the heck is she talking about?
“The Prince skillfully seduces the sulky pilot with his pure, warm words… That’s the whole appeal of this story!”
That is not at all the appeal of this story. You’re gonna piss off the French. “I mean…I’m on the committee, though…”
“Th-that’s right. Hikitani’s helping with the committee for us, and if we’re doing a play, we’ll need to rehearse and stuff, too. This isn’t very realistic.”
Thanks for the assist, Hayama.
“Oh…that’s too bad,” said Ebina.
“Yeah, so maybe we should rethink the whole thing…such as who’ll be playing the Prince,” Hayama added.
So that’s your ulterior motive. But before his suggestion was even finished, Ebina had written out new names.
The Prince: Totsuka
The Narrator: Hayama
“It’ll be a little less sulky now,” said Ebina, “but I guess it’ll do.”
“So I have to be in this no matter what, huh…?” Hayama’s shoulders slumped.
“Ooh, nice brooding!” Ebina gave a thumbs-up in approval at his performance.
I didn’t give a damn about Hayama, but Totsuka as the Prince was some pretty good casting. He did indeed strike you as the little prince of the story.
But the boy in question acted puzzled. He must not have considered this possibility. “This seems really hard… Do you think I can really be the prince?”
“Oh,” I replied, “I think you fit the role.” It seems like Ebina actually had some good eyes in her head—though maybe that just meant they were rotten in a different way from mine…
“Oh…I don’t really know a lot about this stuff, so I’ve got to do some proper research.”
“I don’t think you need to do any research. In fact, it’d probably be easier if you just read the original book. She’s misinterpreting the plot pretty hard.” I appreciated his diligent spirit, but there are some things you’re better off not knowing. If Totsuka’s research led him to that path, I can’t say for sure I wouldn’t follow him, so I would really prefer it if he didn’t.
“Have you read it, Hachiman?”
“…Yeah.” It was an okay story. If pressed, I’d even say it’s sort of up my alley. But there were a number of things about it that I found unsatisfying, so I couldn’t exactly sing its praises without a few caveats. It was a book I simply had trouble judging. “If you want to read it, I can lend it to you.”
“Really? Thanks!” Totsuka beamed at me like a blooming flower.
It’s a good thing my hobby is reading, I thought, for the first time in my life.
Meanwhile, Totsuka was called to the cast meeting. “See you later, then, Hachiman.”
“Yeah.” I saw him out and then scanned the cast. They were having their meeting nearby, and a bunch of other meetings were starting all over, too: costuming, advertisement, a mourning party for the cast.
I glanced behind me at them all, then left the classroom.
A loud pitter-patter of footsteps chased after me. Without even turning around, I knew whose they were. I think the only people out there identifiable by their footsteps are Tarao and Yuigahama.
“Are you heading to the clubroom, Hikki?” she called out after me.
Slowing my pace a bit, I replied, “Yeah, there’s still some time before the committee meeting. Besides, I probably won’t be able to go to club for a while now, so I figured I’d go let her know.”
“Oh, that makes sense… I’ll go, too,” Yuigahama said, coming up alongside me.
I just gave her a glance. “You don’t have any work to do?”
“Naw. I think I’ll only be busy once things actually get started.”
I replied with a brief “Oh” and walked down the hallway to the clubroom.
The committee meeting was set to start at four, so I still had some time until then.
If I stayed in the classroom, I wouldn’t be assigned any role in particular, and I figured I’d just be in the way. And since I’d been appointed to the committee, even if I’d wanted to help, I would barely have time to do anything anyway. Then someone would have to take over for me when I left halfway, and that would be time-consuming and leave us prone to mistakes. So clearly, it would be better for me not to bother with any of it from the start. Sometimes, abstaining from work can be beneficial.
…If I’d been put on the committee because they’d foreseen that, all I can say is: I’m impressed. In a way, my classmates might actually understand me the best.
I am an untouchable presence. Phrasing it that way makes me seem kinda cool.
At Soubu High School, only some of the clubs make presentations for the cultural festival. For example, the orchestral club has a concert, and the tea ceremony club holds a formal tea party. Generally, the students participate with their classes, and they can volunteer for additional presentations.
The racket I’d been hearing for a while now had to be a volunteer band practicing. Yet again, a guitar was seizing the spotlight, energetically picking away like pokasuka-jyan. The bass was strumming bom-boko-bom-boko—what, is this a tanuki battle?
But that was just between the main building and the new building. In all the hustle and bustle, only the hallway leading to the special building maintained its silence. Perhaps because of the shade, the air felt one or two degrees cooler.
The door to the clubroom was already unlocked. I could almost feel the arctic winds seeping out from within.
Putting my hand on the sliding door, I found Yukinoshita there, as always.
“Yahallo!”
Yuigahama’s greeting prompted Yukinoshita to slowly raise her head. She squinted at the door and then hesitantly opened her mouth.
“…Hello.”
“Hey.” I gave my vague reply to her usual greeting and then sat down in my regular seat. “So you’re on the committee, too, huh?”
“Huh? Is she really?” asked Yuigahama.
“Yes,” Yukinoshita replied briefly, her eyes locked on the paperback in her hands.
“It’s surprising you’d do something like that, Yukinon.”
“Is it? Well, I suppose so…” Yukinoshita wasn’t the type to put herself out there. It wasn’t that she lacked initiative. She just hated standing out. That was the Yukinoshita I knew.
“Personally, I found it surprising you were on the committee, Hikigaya.”
“Oh yeah, right? It’s totally not like him,” Yuigahama agreed.
“Hey…I was half forced into it. Well, running miscellaneous tasks for the committee is better than being in that musical, so all’s well that ends well, though.”
“That reason is very like you,” said Yukinoshita.
“This isn’t like you, though,” I quipped. It wasn’t really directed at Yukinoshita. It was directed at myself. Again, I had been made uncomfortably aware of how I force my ideals on people.
“…”
“…”
Yukinoshita didn’t even dignify my words with a response. She hadn’t moved her gaze an inch off her paperback. In the silence, it felt like even time had slowed to a halt. The only sound was the ticking of the worn clock on the wall measuring out time, and its second hand was deafening.
Yuigahama breathed a deep sigh and glanced over at the clock. “Um…you’ve got a committee meeting today, too, right? I have to go to a discussion in the classroom, so…”
I picked up on what she was about to say. “Oh, that’s right. Since I’m on the committee, I won’t be able to come to club for a while.” Maybe it would have been more accurate to say that I just wouldn’t be coming in general.
Yukinoshita closed her eyes for a long moment, as if she were processing this, then closed her book, too. After that, for the first time that day, she looked at me. “…That works out well, then. I was just about to bring that up today. I think we’ll have to suspend club meetings for a while, until the cultural festival is over.”
“Yeah, makes sense.”
“Hmm…” Yuigahama thought for a bit but finally conceded. “All right, that’s fair. Since we’ve got the festival, maybe that’s for the best, until it’s over.”
“Right, well, that’s it for today, I guess.”
“…Yeah. When you’ve got some free time, Hikki, be sure to help with the classroom stuff, too,” Yuigahama said, and I briefly considered it. Doing work for the class play on top of my work for the committee would be a lot of grief. Unlimited Double Works…
“…If I get the time. I’m…gonna head out, then.” My reply meant I’m definitely not going to do it. Bag in hand, I stood up. Even though it was totally empty, it felt super-heavy.
…Waaah. I don’t wanna go.
I wonder why going to work is so painful. Somehow, my stomach started to hurt. Is it like that mind-over-matter stuff where your thoughts affect the real world? What Marble Phantasm.
Oh well. It’s work, so I’ll do it anyway. But a sigh escaped me. I just don’t want to get a job.
Right as I put my hand on the door, there came a knock, knock. I perked my ears up at the sound and heard some noise on the other side, like giggling.
“Come in,” Yukinoshita called out, and the door opened hesitantly. The laughter got louder, like the whispers of wind through the trees.
“Pardon me!” In came a girl I knew: Minami Sagami. She was in my class and on the Cultural Festival Committee with me, and she was serving as its chair. Two other girls were waiting behind her. They all had similar thin smiles on their faces.
When she saw us, Sagami’s eyes went wide. “Oh, it’s Yukinoshita and Yui!”
Whoops, you missed one, you know? Your classmate? Also on the committee with you?
“Sagamin? What’s up?” Yuigahama looked at her curiously.
Sagami didn’t reply to her question, giving the clubroom a full-circle scan instead. “Huh! So the Service Club is you guys’ club!” she said, glancing from me to Yuigahama and back again.
I got cold shivers. Hidden in those eyes was the cunning of a snake. For an eerie moment, her pupils almost appeared vertically slit.
“Did you need something?” Yukinoshita’s tone was cold and high-handed, as it always was, even with people she didn’t really know. I wondered why it felt even colder in there than usual.
“Oh…I know this is really sudden… I’m sorry.” Sagami flinched a little and added an apology at the end. “I came because…I wanted to ask your help with something,” she continued. She wouldn’t meet Yukinoshita’s gaze, instead giving little glances to her friends at her side. “I ended up becoming the committee chair, but, like, I’m just not that confident about it, I guess… So I wanted some help.”
That must have been what Sagami had been discussing with Miss Hiratsuka after the meeting the day before. Yet again, the teacher had sent someone with a problem to the Service Club.
Well, I understood what she was trying to say. Anyone would shrink away after taking on a new job, or a role with a heavy responsibility. Not to mention, from what I’d seen of Sagami’s manner in class, she didn’t seem like the leader type.
But was Sagami someone the club should be helping?
Yukinoshita watched her in thoughtful silence for a while. Under her quiet gaze, Sagami awkwardly averted her eyes.
“It seems to me,” said Yukinoshita, “that it would be straying from the goal of personal growth that you were touting, though.”
Yukinoshita was right—Sagami had volunteered for this role of her own free will. When she had put her name forward as committee chair, she had claimed to take on that responsibility for the sake of her own personal development.
Sagami seemed momentarily taken aback, but she kept her reaction in check, putting on another thin smile. “Yeah, but…it’s just, I really don’t want to be causing trouble for the whole team, I guess. And we don’t want this to fail, right? Besides, I think cooperating with others to pull it off is a part of that growth. That stuff’s important, right?” Yukinoshita just listened in silence as Sagami continued without pause. “Besides, I’m a part of the class, too. I want to, like, help out with the class stuff, too. I’d feel bad if I had to say I wasn’t going to show up there at all. Right?” Sagami said, then turned to Yuigahama.
“…Yeah, that’s true.” Yuigahama paused for just the briefest moment to think, but she agreed with Sagami. “I like doing things together with other people, too.”
“Right? I want to take advantage of the opportunity to build closer relationships. So I’ve really got to make this a success!”
The pair flanking her were vigorously nodding their agreement.
But Yuigahama frowned slightly.
I could understand how she felt, too. Ultimately, Sagami was just asking Yukinoshita to wipe her ass for her, since she’d impulsively jumped into the position. On a fundamental level, it wasn’t much different from that time Zaimokuza had gone overboard online and pissed off the UG Club.
All Sagami wanted was the title of “chair of the Cultural Festival Committee,” not the experience and knowledge that could be gained through that role. If she really wanted to do her job as the committee chair, then she wouldn’t have been asking for help from outside the committee. Meguri, for example, was good at getting everyone within the organization to cooperate with her like that. She came off as a little flaky, but she seemed to be managing the organization well by getting the firm support of all the student council members. Perhaps that was because of her personality, or perhaps her unreliable and delicate manner itself created a sense of unity in its own way.
But Sagami was different. It seemed to me like she was trying to gain the help of outsiders because she was embarrassed about showing weakness—trying to put on a bold front. Again, I think that’s more or less what Zaimokuza did, not so long ago.
Unfortunately, when you ring up a tab like that, you have to pay it off yourself. Everyone needs to figure out eventually that just screwing up your courage in the heat of the moment generally doesn’t lead to anything good. When you feel miserable about it afterward, regret your decision, and are cautioned into never repeating it again, it’s its own form of growth. From that angle, it would be best to refuse Sagami’s request now.
In fact, if you seriously considered what was best for her, it would be better not to just jump in. I also didn’t want any more work.
Yukinoshita had been silent for a while, and perhaps Sagami was anxious about her response. She kept glancing over toward Yukinoshita, but never directly at her.
Noticing that Sagami was waiting for a reply, Yukinoshita slowly opened her mouth, apparently still gathering her thoughts and checking them over. “To summarize…you mean you would like me to be your advisor?”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Sagami did her best to give a cheerful nod as if to say, Just what I was thinking!
But Yukinoshita’s expression was as ice-cold as ever. “I see… Then I don’t mind. Since I’m on the committee myself, I can help you in that capacity.”
“Really?! Thank you!” Sagami clapped her hands in an open expression of joy and took two, three steps up to Yukinoshita.
By contrast, Yuigahama was staring at her with some surprise.
Frankly, I was a little surprised, too. I’d thought Yukinoshita would simply brush off a request like that.
“I’ll be counting on you, then!” Sagami thanked her casually and left with her friends in tow. Once it was only the three of us, a little of the gloom returned.
Just as I was stepping out to leave the clubroom—for real this time—Yuigahama planted herself resolutely in front of Yukinoshita. “…I thought we were suspending club.” Her tone was a little colder than I was used to hearing from her.
The change was not lost on Yukinoshita, and her shoulders twitched. She lifted her head for just an instant, then quickly looked away again. “…I’m taking it on personally. You two don’t have to worry about it.”
“But we always—”
“It’s the same… Nothing’s any different.” Yukinoshita cut her off before she could persist.
Yuigahama breathed a faint, resigned sigh in the face of Yukinoshita’s determination. “But…we could all do it together.”
“That’s unnecessary. I realize it would be rather selfish to ask you to deal with committee matters. It’s more efficient for me to handle it by myself,” said Yukinoshita.
“Efficient? Well, yeah, maybe it is, but…” Yuigahama faltered.
Still cold, Yukinoshita focused on the cover of her closed paperback, as if to put an end to the discussion.
Having seen Yukino Yukinoshita’s skills up close, I understood full well that she would indeed manage on her own.
“But…I don’t think it’s right,” Yuigahama said, then spun around and started to leave. No one called after her. “I’m going back to the classroom.” With that, she walked off. I was taken aback by the whole exchange, but I soon snapped out of it and shouldered my bag again to follow Yuigahama out of the room. As I closed the door, I turned back.
Yukinoshita was all alone in there.
She was so beautiful, it was terrifying. Like sunlight gently flowing down on a ruin after the destruction of the world—full of sorrow.
A pair of indoor shoes smacked lightly against the linoleum tile. For someone who seemed rather slow, her feet sure were quick. “Agh, man! This is so… It’s so…so, so—!”
“Hey, hold on a second and calm down,” I called out to stop Yuigahama in front of me.
Then the smacks on the floor stopped, and her shoes squeaked as she turned around. “What?” Her face formed a sullen frown. She was clearly in a bad mood.
Huh, I don’t usually see her like this, I thought. “What’s with you, all of a sudden?”
“I don’t know! I just…ragh.”
Don’t growl. Are you a dog?
Yuigahama stomped on the ground as she sorted out her feelings and put the words together bit by bit. “It’s like… This is different from usual… Like, Yukinon doesn’t usually do that.”
“Well, that’s…”
“And you too, Hikki,” she added accusingly.
“…”
Even I could tell. I’d been trying my best to act the same as I always did. But the fact that I was even consciously trying to do that was different from usual. Once you’re aware things are weird, any attempt to rectify the situation makes it even more awkward. I was well and truly stuck in that particular spiral.
So it was obvious after all.
Whether she took my silence as an affirmation or as guilt, Yuigahama didn’t press me any further. I was pretty grateful for that.
“Also, like…” As I waited for Yuigahama to continue, she twisted around as if she found this hard to say. “…Listen. Can I say something a little mean?”
“Huh?” Unsure what she was getting at, I gave her a vague answer.
Yuigahama looked up at me uneasily and checked one more time. “Don’t…hate me for this?”
“I can’t make any promises.”
“Huh? I’m stuck, then…” Yuigahama stopped on the spot.
It’s not like she only lets you see her good side anyway, be that out of stupidity or something else. She’ll reveal her feminine calculating side when you least expect it, which makes her more than I can handle.
But still, at this rate, this conversation was not going anywhere. Well, no matter what she told me at this point, I doubted it would change anything.
To fill up the silence, I scratched my head roughly. “…Agh, it’ll be fine. I have a lot of experience hating people. Some petty little comment won’t be enough.”
“That’s kind of a sad reason.”
That was genuine pity there…
“Whatever, right? So what is this mean thing?” I prompted her to continue.
Yuigahama quietly took a deep breath and opened her mouth. “Yeah… Listen, I…don’t really like…Sagamin…”
“Uh-huh. And the mean part?”
“I—I just said it…”
“What?” Automatically, my eyes went as wide as a Furby’s. Pet me! “Huh? What? Was that supposed to be mean?”
“Um, we just can’t get along. Or I guess you’d call this a squabble between us girls or something. I know that isn’t very nice, but…”
Was that all? I guess so, if you thought about it normally. I’m sure it wouldn’t make her seem nice.
However she took my silence, Yuigahama folded her hands small in front of her chest and made an inverse triangle with her fingers. “I…didn’t want to show you that side of me, though,” she said, focusing on a corner of the hallway.
“You’re dumb.” I had to snicker. You think things would change now just because of that? Idiot. “I mean, I don’t like her, either.”
“Yeah, but it’s a little different. I don’t like her. I guess, I probably just dislike her. But we’re friends, so…”
“O-okay…but you’re still friends…”
“Yeah, I do try to be friends with her.”
Still don’t understand girls’ definition of friend.
“But maybe she doesn’t feel that way. I kinda feel like she hates me.”
“Yeah, I bet. You can tell just by looking.” I’m sure it wasn’t quite that Yuigahama hated her, but I could sense antagonism or hostility in some form. I was going to elaborate, but then I noticed Yuigahama had frozen.
“…Huh? Y-you’re looking?”
“Stop. Cancel. I’m not, actually. Not at all. I can just tell.”
“Um, though…you’re totally…allowed to look, you know…,” Yuigahama replied, finger-combing her hair.
But, um, sorry. I’m kind of really looking at you a little bit a lot. I’m sorry for lying.
As I was repenting and apologizing in my head, Yuigahama suddenly got this faraway look in her eyes. “In first year, me and Sagamin were in the same class.”
“Huh. Were you close?”
“Fairly close, I guess.” Yuigahama’s expression was complicated, halfway between worrying and contemplating.
“…In other words, you weren’t.”
“Hey, what makes you think that?!”
“Were you close?”
“Hmm, well, close enough.” Another hard-to-read expression…
“In other words, you weren’t,” I said.
Yuigahama gave a resigned sigh. “…Fine, let’s go with that.”
It wasn’t “Let’s go with that” at all; it was exactly that. The world of women is complicated and mysterious.
“Back then, we were part of a pretty prominent clique. And I guess that kinda gave her a lot of confidence.”
Sagami and Yuigahama. Well, I’m sure there would have been others, but it’s easy to imagine them as central figures in the class. Yuigahama had the looks, the social skills, and the knack for putting others at ease. So I’m sure she could fit herself in well with a popular A-group atmosphere. Sagami, on the other hand, was the type who could aim for such a position and find a fair degree of success, depending on the combination of people there, I think. In the cultural committee, she’d immediately found herself some friends and people to hang out with, and she turned them into a clique as one with interpersonal skills and a knack for self-promotion.
But once they hit second year, their positions changed. What was the source of this difference between Yuigahama and Sagami? Pride, and a different environment…
The greatest reason had to be Miura. The moment Miura came into Class 2-F, the position of number one was set in stone. And then, at the team selection stage, Miura chose the members of her clique based on her rather cruel standard of “cuteness.”
…She really was something. She ignored the existing social hierarchy and just picked the people she wanted to be with. For good or for ill, she really was a queen.
And Miura and Sagami didn’t really get along. I don’t know if it’s right to put it this way, but it was easy to understand why Sagami was the leader of the B-group. For Sagami, conscious as she was of social caste, it had to be humiliating. Maybe she couldn’t do anything about getting booted from the top caste, but the fact that her former peer was still there must have driven her nuts.
Naturally, everything Sagami had done so far fell into place.
“So that’s why I kinda don’t really like what she’s doing… Asking Yukinon this favor, trying to be friends with her, too…” Yuigahama tilted her head, puzzled by what she’d just said. Then she gave a little nod of understanding. “…Maybe I like Yukinon more than I realized.”
“What are you talking about, all of a sudden?” YuruYuri is one thing, but if it’s full-blown yuri, I can’t entirely back you up there.
“No! I don’t mean it like that! I… I dunno if I like other girls being friends with Yukinon… I’m acting like a little kid.” She must have been embarrassed. Her cheeks were red, and she was petting her bun attentively.
That desire to monopolize someone was a bit childish. I’m sure it’s fairly common among young girls. I think even my little sister Komachi was like that at some point. Humans, at their core, are not that different. We just train ourselves to repress our feelings until, occasionally, they peek out anyway.
“Girls are a lot of trouble… There’s all this stuff.”
It was kinda funny how seriously she was taking this, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, hey, boys are a pain in the ass, too. We have cliques and social groups. Girls aren’t so special.”
“Really?”
“Pretty much.”
“Huh… People in general are a pain, huh?” Yuigahama gave her characteristic ta-ha-ha.
They really are. Humans are such a pain in the butt. I hate it, and that’s why I gave up on them a long time ago. When they put in so much effort to keep up appearances, you know they’re not real.
“Promise.” The word left her mouth so suddenly, I didn’t understand what she meant. I replied with silence and a head tilt.
Yuigahama stopped in place, gave me a firm look in the eye, and continued, “That if Yukinon is in trouble, you’ll help her out.”
I do recall Yuigahama saying something like that on the way back from the fireworks show. Just as then, she was so earnest, her uncompromising attitude overwhelmed me. So I answered as honestly and accurately as I could. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Okay. It’s a relief to hear you say that,” Yuigahama said, grinning. The unconditional trust made me uncomfortable.
It seems when you keep your argument short, it’s much more effective. When people tack on a bunch of extra reasons, you can pick out the self-interest or contradictions, but when they just finish it off with a smile, there’s nothing you can find there to argue with.
“I’m going back to the classroom, then. Good luck with the committee.” She gave a casual wave and trotted off. I replied with a raised hand, then started walking again.
I parted ways with Yuigahama and continued on down the hallway to the conference room. It was past a left turn in the hallway, right on the corner. If you went straight forward, the hall would lead to the stairs on the third floor, where our second-year classrooms were.
There was a figure on the far end of the shadowed hallway, blocking the way to the staircase. It looked familiar; even though it was still a little hot out, the figure was wearing a trench coat and fingerless gloves on his hands as he crossed his arms. I ignored him and passed on by.
Suddenly, he pulled out his cell phone and started to make a call.
A moment later, my cell phone started vibrating.
It irritated me that he would go to the trouble of calling my phone even though we’d both recognized each other. Then he began a little act that made it even worse. “Herm. I cannot quite seem to get ahold of that fellow! Could it be he’s otherwise engaged? …Ha-ha-ha! That could never be! Not for Hachiman! Is that not so, Hachiman?”
“I don’t want to hear that from you.” Now that he’d dissed me, I really couldn’t keep my mouth shut. If it had been anyone else, I would’ve been able to snort and ignore them, but my stupid pride would not allow Yoshiteru Zaimokuza to run his mouth at me. “So what’re you doing here? Stair-climbing diet?”
“Heh, how nostalgic. Once, I did engage in such training. But in long times past, I got water on the knee. Besides…my old wounds ache. Aye, I mean my chub rub.”
I-is that right? I think you should take care of your health.
Zaimokuza ignored my concern and pulled out a stack of paper from parts unknown. “Of more import, Hachiman, is this. Observe! What do you think?”
“What? If it’s your light novel, I’m not reading it.” Usually, I’d be a bit nicer, but I didn’t have much time. I was supposed to be heading to a meeting right then, and I didn’t have the patience, time, energy, or goodwill to deal with him.
“Nay! Not a light novel!” His denial was pointlessly emphatic, which made me mildly curious. If it wasn’t his light novel, then what the hell were those papers?
Seeing that my eyes were on his stack of paper, Zaimokuza smirked and struck a pose. “Listen with amazement! Prostrate yourself with rapt attention! And…apologize with your death… Did you know my class is putting on a play?”
“I don’t care. And why do I have to apologize with my death anyway—hey, wait, wait, stop, don’t say any more…”
“For a play, what do you need? A script…”
“Enough. No. Cut it out.”
But Zaimokuza plunged ahead despite my attempts to restrain him. He lifted a fist high up in the air and proclaimed everything he wanted me to know. Honestly, it was really obnoxious. “Oh, ’tis no great matter. They were whimpering about how they didn’t want a regular play. They wished for an original script.”
“Hey, stop this. Please.” I knew what came next. I knew exactly how this was going to end. As for why, because I’ve gone down that road once before, in middle school.
Writing an original script and playing with a scenario is only permissible up until the end of elementary school. Oh, it actually is an option for elementary school kids. You’re allowed to write comic skit–style scripts for school arts festivals and farewell parties. In fact, people will love it. But the moment you start middle school, the act makes you a target for contempt.
“Heh.” I laughed weakly.
“Hmm? What is it, Hachiman?” he asked.
I gazed up at the sky through the window. “Oh…just thinking about how adulthood hits so fast.”
“Heh, what a curious fellow… I actually have no idea what you were talking about. That was super-weird. But no matter: Your issues are insignificant. So as for my original script…”
I got the feeling he’d taken advantage of the confusion to hurl an insult at me. I couldn’t know for sure that they weren’t still using my old script now…
While I hate to say it, this guy is basically an acquaintance of mine. My conscience wouldn’t let me say nothing and let him walk into certain disaster. From the kindness of my heart, I decided to warn him. “Okay, I understand what you’re talking about. Just don’t make the heroine the girl you like. It’s way too awkward. And don’t give yourself the lead role in the first place.”
“Ge-gerk! Hachiman, do you have ESP?!”
“No. Listen, I warned you, okay?” I don’t have ESP. This was just experience talking. Ever since that day, I have sworn solemnly in my heart to never show anyone anything of that nature ever again.
“Hrr-pum, I see, I see. In other words, what you’re trying to say is this…” Zaimokuza assumed his most serious expression and cleared his throat. “The recent trend is to make the villain or rival the protagonist rather than the standard hero, so that would be cooler and more popular?”
“You completely missed the point.”
“Herm? Is some part of that mistaken?”
“Oh, your line of argument isn’t really wrong. I mean, even for PreCure, they made the one in black the main character for the first generation. I think that’s probably what they were going for there, establishing character based on color scheme. The problem is everything about you.” I wanted to emphasize that very last part, but Zaimokuza’s ears function at an incredible level that allows them to filter out everything he doesn’t want to hear, so he just made his weird listening noises. Mfun, mfun.
“I see. You do indeed have a point. This ‘Rule of Cure Black’ you subscribe to…may just be it. Herm, as expected of the authority of PreCure-ology.”
“Hey, stop it. Don’t you set me up as an authority. I’m not worthy. Besides, I’m a Cure White stan.” Seriously, authority is too lofty for me. I’m just someone who just watches it ’cause I like it. I’m a casual. I can’t even tell at a glance who drew the key frames, and I just have the old-edition DVD box sets and Blu-rays. In fact, it would be presumptuous and inexcusable to call myself a true fan. I’d want to kill myself if I did.
“Herm, that reaction… He’s the real deal…” Zaimokuza drew back.
“Whatever, I don’t care anymore. I hope you suffer and regret it.” It was no use, no matter what I said. So then he had no choice but to learn the hard way and carve those wounds deep into his heart. Love, friendship, and courage aren’t what changes people. My wish was that the people of Class C would give Zaimokuza an extralarge fatal wound.
“By the way, are you going to the October film?” he asked.
“Don’t be stupid. Someone like me going would scare the families and the little girls. It’d be inexcusable of me… I’ll buy the Blu-ray.”
“Hng! You must want to see it forthwith, and yet, you restrain yourself…a man among men!” For some reason, he burst into manly tears for me.
I’m the one who wants to cry. I’m about to go off to work right now. Why do I have to have a discussion with this guy here? I shook off Zaimokuza’s gaze and headed to the conference room. My feet felt even heavier than usual.
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