Yahari Ore no Seishun Love Come wa Machigatte Iru - Volume 6 - Chapter 8

8

Beyond, Yukino Yukinoshita has her eye on someone.

We’d reached the second day of the cultural festival.

That day was open to the general public, so neighbors, friends from other schools, and entrance exam hopefuls were pouring in. It being a Saturday, the place was bustling with people on their day off.

Things were different from the first day, which had felt more like a private party and rehearsal, and where many more issues came up. But since all the members of the cultural committee were handling it, there was nothing to worry about even on this heavy-flow second day. We even had side-groove channels and wings.

And thus, I would be doing committee work for the whole day.

Our clientele was quite diverse: We had many middle school kids from the neighborhood, but there were also families with children and fancy madams, local seniors, and kids who were like, I don’t really get what this is, but I just kinda showed up!

We were supposed to register all the guests, more or less, but from what I could see, that was largely not happening. Frankly speaking, considering how invisible I was in my class, I suspected I could’ve gotten in without any check at all. The kids on duty for Health and Sanitation and the male gym teacher had gotten together to set up reception tables in front of both school gates. So I doubted any real weirdos would come in.

As the school started getting congested, my work was to take pictures. My main task for that day was to record each class’s presentations and the guests, as well as the general excitement of the cultural festival that year.

So, photography. I’d thought I could just snap some photos of whatever and scratch it off the list, but I was encountering a few roadblocks. As for why, when I began actually taking pictures, people kept on saying, “Um…could you please not take pictures of us?” Ouch… Every time that happened, I’d show them my CULTURAL COMMITTEE: RECORDS armband, and for some reason, I always ended up having to apologize for it.

I’d managed to take a bunch of photos at last when something swooped down on me to slam into my back. “Bro!”

“Oh, Komachi.” I turned my head around to see my sister attached to me. When she acts all clingy like that, well, her big brother doesn’t feel so bad. Whoo-hoo, my little sister is so cute!

“A hug after so much time apart! I think this could be worth a lot of Komachi points.”

“What? Is this Heathrow Airport or something?” All those foreigners hug too much in the airport, in my opinion.

Komachi was being kinda manipulative, so I peeled her off. The ensuing whimpers were even more manipulative.

Though Komachi didn’t have school that day, for some reason, she was in her uniform. Speaking of which, why do high school girls always wear their uniforms? Even though it was a weekend for other schools, everyone around was in uniform. Well, not having to pick an outfit is easier, I guess.

Komachi’s outfit must have gotten mussed when she’d glomped me, as she was adjusting the collar of her sailor dress. Something about it struck me as weird.

Oh. The other guests had come in groups, but she’d come by herself. So that was it, huh? “Did you come alone?”

“Yeah, I mean, I just came to see you, Bro. That just now was worth a lot of Komachi points, too.” Komachi seemed to notice the chilly look I gave her, as she cleared her throat with a deliberate little hem-hem. “Well, to be honest, I just felt shy about inviting friends when everyone’s so tense. It’s right before entrance exams.”

Oh yeah. She was such an idiot I tended to forget, but Komachi was, in fact, coming up to her entrance exams. And Soubu High School was her first choice, too.

Well, it was true that coming to the cultural festival of the school she was applying to might help get her motivated. That must have been part of her reasoning in coming all this way.

She must also have been curious about things in general, because she was glancing all around. “Where are Yui and Yukino?” she asked.

“I think Yuigahama’s in our classroom. I dunno about Yukinoshita.”

“Why aren’t you in the classroom? Do you not belong there?” She didn’t even seem to care that it was cruel.

How rude. I do have a place I belong. My desk and chair is my native territory. But I belong nowhere else, so while the cultural festival is going on and the desks are removed from their places, I’m a total nomad. A wanderer. “…An aloof, wandering soul needs no place to call his home.”

“Whoa, sounds cool,” Komachi replied in the flattest monotone ever. “So what’re you doing?”

“Work…,” I replied.

Komachi blinked her eyes, two, three times. “So what’re you doing?”

“I said, I’m doing work.” Why was she asking me exactly the same question again? I’m gonna write a note that says Komachi needs to listen to what other people say and give it to Mom.

“So what’re you doing?”

“Are you a CD? Do you have a scratch? I’ll polish you with abrasives. I’m working, seriously.”

“My brother is…doing work…,” Komachi muttered, deeply impressed. After three repetitions, it finally seemed to sink in. “My brother, who never worked part-time jobs for long and generally flaked out and gave ridiculous excuses and told them Well, my parents are all like, y’know, about exams…is doing work…” Then I saw something sparkling bright in her eyes. “Komachi is so happy… But wait, this is weird. It’s like you’ve gone far away. I’m having mixed feelings.”

Hey, I don’t know what’s up with that parental look, but stop it. It’s super-embarrassing, and it’s making your big brother feel like he might be able to reform his entire attitude toward his lifestyle and correct his ways to lead a decent life for his family’s sake.

In an attempt to shake off Komachi’s warm gaze, I steered us back on course. “Well, I mean, yeah, it’s work, but it’s like a low-ranking gofer position. I’m totally replaceable.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” She’s nodding pretty damn hard there.

In spite of myself, I smiled wryly. “Right? Makes sense to me, too.”

First Hayama, and then my own little sister said it… I must really look like a lackey. Well…I guess I do. I think I have the eyes of a flunky to a real pirate, or a bandit, or highwayman, if I do say so myself.

Komachi and I strolled together down the hall. She walked a few steps ahead of me through the fairly large crowds, checking out the decorations in the classrooms, the students’ outfits, and other things, and she seemed surprised by all the energy. She gave an impressed sigh. “…High school really is kinda different.”

“Well, middle school doesn’t even have cultural festivals.”

“Yeah, yeah, just choir recitals.”

That term brought unpleasant memories to mind. How could they be so quick to decide someone wasn’t singing? I was singing! Or did they just not know what my voice sounded like ’cause normally I wouldn’t ever talk to them? Was that it? If I made a recording of my own voice, would they think it was a ghost?

Suddenly, Komachi’s feet stopped. Then she stretched her back in an exaggerated fashion and shaded her eyes with her hand as she peered into the distance. A second later, she folded her arms and fell into thought, hmming. “Komachi’s gonna go look at a bunch of stuff now. See ya, Bro,” she said, immediately scampering away down the hallway and up a staircase.

I was suddenly abandoned. “Wh-whoa…,” I replied like an idiot, though I doubted she could hear me anymore. A girl from another school who was walking by twitched and jumped about fifty centimeters away from me.

She may be my own sister, but she could be mysterious. Komachi knows just how to get along with people, but she actually likes doing stuff on her own more than you’d think. She’s a next-generation hybrid loner model. She has the gift unique to younger siblings of learning from her older sibling’s failures. Having grown up with a specialist in solitude like me, she has a good understanding of the positives and negatives of lonerdom.

Well, there’s a wide variety of sibling relationships out there. Being a younger sister with an older brother like me who will inevitably fall short of most standards might actually lift some of your burden. Comparisons won’t hurt you.

But if I were an exceptionally accomplished person, I wonder what Komachi would have thought of me.

Perhaps the reason I’d ended up with that question on my mind was that I found her there ahead of me. Even among the surging crowds, I could pick her out. Yukinoshita was taking her time, slowly examining each and every one of the classrooms. Her eyes were a little warmer than usual.

No matter why or how things got this way, it was thanks to her that this cultural festival was proceeding without a hitch. Yukinoshita had to know that, and I was sure she was proud. I guess that would put a kinder look in your eyes. She’d gotten real results for her diligence.

Yukinoshita’s gaze continued on to the next classroom. Then it seemed that I appeared in her field of vision. She seemed a little surprised, and then her gaze quickly flashed cold. Why? Suspicious, she strode straight over toward me. “You’re alone today, I see.”

“Well, I’m basically always alone, though. Oh, but I was with Komachi until just now.”

“Oh, so she’s here, too? You’re not exploring the festival together?”

“She just kinda ran off. I figure she was being considerate, since I’m on the job now.”

“…On the job?” Yukinoshita tilted her head dubiously.

“It’s not obvious?”

“That’s why I asked,” she said nonchalantly.

So it wasn’t obvious… Hachiman’s a little shocked. Well, now that she mentions it, I’m not working at this very moment… “So anyway, what about you? Work?” I asked.

“Yes, I’m doing inspections.”

“Weren’t you doing that yesterday, too? Not worried about your class?”

“…I’d rather work than be forced to participate in that,” Yukinoshita replied with an extremely dour look.

I’d heard Class J was doing a fashion show or something. Class J, the international curriculum, was over 90 percent girls. If they wanted to have an easy time bringing in guests, they just had to put their good looks front and center. So it was inevitable they’d want to rope in Yukinoshita. Whoa, yeah, she’d hate that. Actually, I’d kinda like to see Yukinoshita forced into fancy clothing, even if she did hate it.

Since Yukinoshita was doing inspections, she constantly had her eye on any number of things, and she came to a halt at one classroom. “…Their presentation. It’s not what they wrote on their application.” The walls of class 3-B were decorated to look like a cave, and the sign hanging there had an Indiana Jones–ish typeface that read TROLLEY OLLEY.

“What’s their presentation?” I asked.

“You should at least get an understanding of what every class is doing.”

That’s kind of an extreme demand, Yukinoshita.

She pulled a neatly folded cultural festival pamphlet out of her chest pocket and then offered it to me. I took it without a word and opened it. Okay, the warmth of this pamphlet is getting me a little excited. Please don’t let your guard down like this.

To distract myself from my passions of the flesh, I quickly searched to see what Class 3-B was supposed to have on display. Um, 3-B, 3-B…

And there it was. Apparently, the concept was to “show off the decorations and dioramas of the room in a slowly moving trolley.”

But from inside we could hear screams (“Eek!”) and a furious rattling.

It was clearly a roller coaster… They must have noticed the popularity of Class 2-E’s roller coaster the previous day and suddenly changed their concept. These guys were quick to seize an opportunity.

But there was no way the vice-chair would allow that. Immediately, she called for their representative. “Is your class rep here? It looks like your presentation isn’t the one described on your application,” said Yukinoshita, and immediately, the 3-B girls all blanched.

“Crap!” “They found out it’s high-speed!” “J-just make them get on! Just move it along to avoid an inquisition!” As if we’d poked a beehive, the class flew into chaos, and some third-years grabbed both Yukinoshita’s arms firmly and tried to drag her into the trolley.

“H-hey!” Resisting, Yukinoshita shot a glance at me, like she wanted me to save her. But here, that had the opposite effect.

Up until then, I’d been pretty much invisible, but now the gazes of all of Class 3-B locked onto me. “…That one’s on the committee, too?” “He’s got an armband!” “Toss him in!”

Some rough older boy immediately captured me. Hey! How come I’m not being grabbed by a third-year girl?! This isn’t fair, is it?!

They dragged me into the classroom. Hey! Who touched my butt just now?! The inside of the classroom was decorated like a cave, too. It was pretty elaborate, with ore shining via LED lights, crystal skulls, boulders made of Styrofoam, and spiders dangling from string.

I only had a moment to be impressed, though, and then we were shoved into the trolley—a modified cage dolly with decorations on it. Hey! Seriously, who is it?! Who’s been patting my butt this whole time?!

Finally, they gave us a vigorous shove as if to make doubly sure the trolley would go, and the impact sent both me and Yukinoshita tumbling to the floor. I’d resisted at the last second, so I was able to avoid colliding with Yukinoshita, but the resulting position was still uncomfortable.

…Too close! Yukinoshita and I both shifted to the opposite corners of the small trolley.

“Um, thank you very much for riding the Trolley Olley today. Please enjoy the mysterious underground world” came the announcement, and immediately, the trolley started moving. A group of four athletic-looking boys dressed in black like stagehands were pulling it forward. Looking closely, I noticed two more backing them up.

The course was made of desks and tables, wooden boards, and a collection of sheet metal and iron plates, rattling under us as we proceeded at a decent clip. They’d created ups and downs, too, and I could really feel it when we dipped.

This is scary… And scariest of all was the fact that this was all done by hand…

Suddenly, I felt something catch on my clothing. I looked over to see Yukinoshita gripping my sleeve.

As we were shaken and jolted, violently flung this way and that and sometimes even lifted up, I kinda came to understand how clothes feel in the washing machine. Finally, the trolley stopped as we reached the end.

Still leaning back against the wall of the vehicle, Yukinoshita was stunned.

“How was your underground journey? Come visit us again!” The third-year from 3-B officially ended the experience, and finally, me and Yukinoshita both rebooted. We looked at each other. Yukinoshita immediately released my sleeve.

Then they practically chased us out of the classroom. After the darkness, the light of day was blinding.

“How was the ride?!” someone materialized to ask us proudly, someone who I assume was the representative for 3-B.

Yukinoshita, a little unsteady on her feet, shot them an icy look. But her wobbling dulled the impact. “Never mind how it was. It was different from what was on your application.”

“Just a little! We were flexible! We just made some on-the-spot judgments!”

That’s called “getting carried away.” You can waste your time scolding people like this, but they’re not going to listen. The representative wasn’t at fault, not necessarily. It’s just the way groups are. They pick a direction, and once they’re in motion, you have a hard time getting them to listen to anyone else. So it would be best to keep adjustments minor. Course corrections. “Well, it looks like lots of people are enjoying it, so I say it’s fine. As long as there’s no safety issues,” I said.

Yukinoshita considered that a bit. “Yes…well, please present additional application documents, then. And explain things fully to your guests. Post a notice by the entrance and provide a verbal explanation before they use the attraction.”

“Um…well, if that’s all, then okay,” said the representative.

“Thank you.” Yukinoshita bowed, then left. As she began walking, she glanced back at me. She seemed irked, and I could see the hint of a glare. Maybe the redness of her cheeks was the fault of the sunlight streaming in. “…Records, do your work. Or…will you slack off if you aren’t monitored?”

“No…” Don’t you underestimate me. When I slack off, I do it right, even under surveillance. That’s who I am.

In the end, I had no choice about the matter, and I took a few photos under Yukinoshita’s direction.

We made the rounds inspecting each classroom and recording the event at the same time.

When we got to classroom 3-E, which was pretty close to the gym, Yukinoshita stopped.

PET PLACE: MEOWY WOOFY

Apparently, the students had all brought in their pets from home.

They had photos posted up on the wall for clients to choose from, just like a host club. Of course, there were the basics like dogs, cats, rabbits, and hamsters, but there was also a ferret, a short-tailed weasel, a weasel snake, and a turtle… That’s a lot of long torsos there.

Yukinoshita’s eyes locked onto one particular photo among the collection.

Oh-ho, the Ragdoll, huh? A Ragdoll is a specific breed of cat, largish with thick, soft fur, hence the name “Ragdoll,” in English. The word means “stuffed toy,” although admittedly it sounds close to something more risqué. There are also small breeds like the Singapura and the Munchkin. Some people call them “singers” and “munchers,” but I promise it’s not obscene.

Yukinoshita peeked into the classroom, then looked at the photos again. Rinse and repeat.

…Oh, this is no good. This is not a good sign. I can see where this is going. “Why don’t you just go in?” I said, even though I knew what was about to happen.

But surprisingly, Yukinoshita shook her head disappointedly. “…There’s dogs.”

Oh, that’s right—you’ve got a fear of doggos. Then that makes this a no-go, huh?

“Besides…people…would see…,” Yukinoshita said with incredible embarrassment. She was blushing bright red, her head lowered.

Well, yeah, the way you coo over cats is a little off-putting, too. She isn’t just like, Aw, how cute! She gets really into it. She’s uncompromising about it. She makes it an art form, really. If people saw her doing that, her dignity as the vice-chair of the cultural committee would instantly evaporate.

This wasn’t a legit pet shop, so of course, it wouldn’t be the same. People were watching, too. “Well, just head out to Carrefour later, eh? If you go to the pet shop there, you could get a lot out of it.”

“I know. I’m a regular.”

Oh… She has all she needs…

“Then we’re done here, right?” I asked.

But Yukinoshita gave no indication she was about to leave. In fact, she pointed at the door. “Records. Work.”

Are you Mr. Popo? Don’t talk in one-word sentences.

Anyway, Yukinoshita was very tenacious when there was a cat involved, and it didn’t look like she would budge. Obediently, I gave in and devoted myself to a little photo session. Nice, nice, why don’t you try lifting your leg there? After a few minutes, I was freed from my duties as her errand boy.

“Come on, is there even a point in taking multiple photos of a cat?” Well, whatever, I guess…

Yukinoshita took the digital camera from me and began checking through it. She chuckled in satisfaction at the number of photos I’d taken under her finicky instruction from afar. Watching her, I thought it was kinda dangerous to be walking and messing with a digital camera, but she never came close to bumping into anyone because, strangely, everyone was moving in the same direction.

Ahead of us was the gym. The doors were wide-open, and beyond them I could see a fairly large crowd had gathered already. When Yukinoshita heard the cheers ahead, she returned the camera to me. “…It’s just about time.”

“For what?” I asked, but she didn’t reply.

She marched straight on toward the gym, as if she was searching for the answer to something. Without looking back, she called my name. “Let’s go, Hikigaya.”

“Hm, uh-huh.” Well, no matter where I went, I had my job as Records and Miscellaneous, so I had no objections. And since I was taking photos under the direction of the vice-chair herself, nobody could whine, Hey, we can’t use these! afterward. It was easy enough, for what it was. I followed Yukinoshita through the gym doors.

The rows of folding chairs were all filled. There were lines of people standing in the back to watch, too. It was quite an audience; the event must have been announced a while ago.

“Oh, Yukinoshita. Perfect timing.” One of the volunteer managers stationed in the gym came up to her. “We don’t have enough chairs, and people are standing to watch. Do you think we should do some line organization?”

“I think it’ll be fine.”

“But won’t things get noisy?”

“…It’ll quiet down soon.” And sure enough, just as Yukinoshita said, the chatter gradually faded away. Perhaps the audience sensed that the show was about to start, or perhaps they were awed by the high and dignified presence of the classical instruments on stage.

Before the show began, we moved to the very back with the standing audience. As we shuffled over to the far corner, there was a momentary outbreak of murmurs.

On the stage, I saw women in fancy dresses holding various musical instruments coming onto the stage one after another. Applause welled up from the audience.

The last one onstage, walking with an easy stride, was Haruno Yukinoshita.

Her long, slim dress emphasized the contours of her body, and the dark fabric fluttered with each step she took under the brilliant spotlights. Everyone who saw her was mesmerized. She wore two black rose corsages, one on her chest and one as a hair clip, beautiful even from a distance, and the glitter of pearls and sequins brought out her own radiance as a woman.

Haruno plucked up the corner of her skirt and did a graceful curtsy. Then her high-heeled feet stepped up onto the conductor’s podium, where she took a baton in hand. Gently, she raised it up, then paused. All who watched her fell still at the graceful gesture.

Then she brought the baton down sharply, like a rapier. Instantly, the music was on.

The glittering brass instruments under the brilliant spotlights sent out their bursts of air, and the vibrating strings and bows created tones as sharp as arrows. No sooner had the thought occurred to me than the notes of the woodwinds stirred like the evening wind.

Haruno swiped across the air in front of her, and the violinists stood up, bowing with passion. Next, the flutists, piccoloists, oboists, and other performers behind them stood and stepped to the music without a break in the light melody. The clarinetists and bassoonists also raised their instruments high and stood up in alternation. The trumpeters and trombonists pointed upward to indicate a climactic moment, twinkling with an especially brilliant luster. The contrabassists spun their instruments around, while the timpanist twirled dramatically in time with them.

It was a spirited musical introduction, and one that seemed to contradict their classical attire. Their aggressive and dramatic choreography was unconventional, too.

The audience was shocked, like they’d suddenly been punched in the face.

But the rhythm was familiar, the melody stoked a fire inside you, and the choreography created a sense of affinity with the performers. All of it helped you get lost in the music. Before long, the whole audience was keeping rhythm on their knees.

What was this tune? I’d heard it before. It was one that concert bands tend to do a lot…

Right as the answer reached the tip of my tongue, suddenly Haruno raised her hands high and waved them in large motions from side to side. That gesture didn’t match the harmony of the orchestra, and attention gathered on her hands. Her thin, long fingers were counting down.

Then a familiar phrase reached our ears. Everyone in the venue had to have recognized the song. Haruno faced sideways once more and arched her back. Baton toward the performers, her free hand toward the audience, she waved energetically.

At that signal, everyone onstage and in the audience leaped up, yelling, “Mambo!”

Still burning with enthusiasm, the performance plunged forward. One more time, the call came in like a raging wave: “Mambo!”

It didn’t seem like it had been years since they’d last performed. Not at all. I’d thought the alumni had retired from playing with orchestras, like Haruno had, but under her conducting, they were creating an incredibly vivid performance. They had the audience worked up like what you’d see in a club or a live music bar. It was like they were pulling the audience into their inner circle, almost winning them over against their will. And what let the audience get sucked in was the practiced talent of the orchestra and of the conductor, Haruno Yukinoshita.

We were at the very corner of the standing audience, and that was why I could observe it all calmly. If I’d been in the middle, it probably would’ve been horrible. I probably would have obliviously stayed in my chair, and then people would have glared at me about it afterward.

The orchestra was still sprinting toward the finale.

“…ess.” I heard a murmur beside me, so quiet it was nearly erased by the impressive performance.

“Huh?” I hadn’t been able to hear most of what she’d said, so I tilted my head a bit, pointing my ear toward her.

Yukinoshita inched her body just a bit closer and moved her lips in toward me. “I said, I’d expect no less.” The whisper amid the sea of sound told me we were close in the darkness. Her clean scent wafted toward me, and I reflexively withdrew.

Then I reconsidered and moved just half a step closer. It’s okay. As long as her face isn’t too close, I won’t get too nervous. “I’m surprised to hear you complimenting her.”

“…Oh? I may not seem like it, but I do think highly of my sister.” Now that we were closer, it was easier for us to hear each other. But her next remark was so quiet, I nearly missed it. “Because I once felt I wanted to be like her.” Her eyes were fixed on the stage. Up there was Haruno, wielding her baton as freely and magnificently as a sword dancer.

The conductor’s podium was a step above the stage. That place, underneath the spotlight, was right where Haruno belonged.

“…You don’t have to. Just stay like you are,” I quietly replied.

Maybe my words were drowned out by the applause and cheers from the audience, because Yukinoshita didn’t reply.