1
Needless to say, Komachi Hikigaya’s wrath is there.
Let’s just say…
This is hypothetical.
If you could load only one old save file, like in a video game, to make new decisions, would that change your life?
The answer is no.
That route is only possible for people with choices. For those who never had a choice, this speculation is completely meaningless.
Therefore, I have no regrets.
Or to be more accurate, just about everything in my life is a regret.
And that’s not even the real issue here.
It’s too little, too late. If you start talking about what-ifs, you’ll never stop, and it’s not like any amount of talking will change things. Once you pick your option and settle on it, turning back is impossible.
What-ifs, parallel universes, and time loops do not exist. This is why, ultimately, the scenario of life is a linear corridor. Any discussion of possibility is fruitless.
I’m already well aware that I’m wrong. But the world is even more wrong.
The world creates all sorts of messes, like war, poverty, and discrimination, or when you don’t get any job offers while you’re looking for work, so you go into customer service. Then one day, the register count is off, and you’re forced to commit seppuku. The experience is as common as grass.
Where is the righteousness in a world like that? In a world gone wrong, “right” isn’t right.
Yet, when things are wrong, we call it truly right.
What point is there in extending the life of something you know full well will be lost?
Eventually, everything will be lost. That’s just how it is.
But even so.
Sometimes that ephemerality gives birth to beauty.
These things are meaningful because they will one day come to an end. So then delay or obstruction of that end—“repose,” you might call it—surely should not be overlooked or accepted.
You should be conscious of that inevitable loss.
I’m sure there is a joy in occasionally, quietly looking back on those precious things you’ve lost with nostalgia and affection as you tip a drink in their honor, alone.
It was an unpleasant morning.
The skies were a perfect clear blue, and a chilly wind gently rattled the windows. The air inside the room was the warm sort that invited you to nod off.
A really unpleasant morning.
It was the Monday after we’d returned from the school field trip.
Mondays always get me down. The lethargy was so strong, my body refused to move, but I forced it out of bed and headed for the washroom.
Eyes still full of sleep, I stared at the mirror and saw the same old familiar me.
…Yep, same as always.
Completely unchanged—to a boring degree.
The aversion to school, the desire to indulge in indolence forever, and the wave of homesickness as soon as I leave the house are all ordinary for me.
But the water I washed my face with felt a little colder than usual.
Fall had passed, and already it was fair to call the season winter. November was almost through, and there was only a little over a month left in the year.
My parents had left the house early in order to avoid rush hour. They said commuting traffic gets particularly bad at this time of year. I can’t help thinking that winter mornings suck—even for adults. I’d prefer to loll around in my futon until the last minute.
But they have reasons why they still have to go to work.
I’m sure some people are internally motivated to do things they don’t have to do. However, others base their actions on what society demands or what other people are doing. Some simply don’t want to miss out.
When you get to the crux of the matter, people act to gain something or to avoid loss.
My face reflected in the mirror really was, even humbly speaking, more handsome than average, but my leaden eyes were most certainly not—they were varsity-level rotten.
That’s me. This is what makes Hachiman Hikigaya.
Satisfied that I was an unchanging constant, I left the bathroom.
Stepping into the living room, I saw my little sister, Komachi, in the kitchen, standing imposingly in front of the teakettle. Our parents had already had breakfast, which was probably why the menu for the day was already laid out. Once Komachi poured the tea, the meal would be complete.
I pulled out a chair with a scrape, and right then, the water reached its boiling point. Komachi, pouring the hot water into the teapot, glanced at me. “Oh, morning, Bro.”
“Yeah, morning.” We exchanged our greetings.
And then she let out an “Ohhh,” sounding a little impressed. “…You kinda look actually awake for once,” she said.
I tilted my head questioningly. Was I normally not a morning person? No, I didn’t even have to think about it—I am not a morning person. It’s not like I have low blood pressure or anything—I have low motivation. So Komachi wasn’t exactly incorrect in pointing this out. I was indeed awake that day.
“…Yeah, well, I washed my face with cold water.” I tossed out the reason that came to mind, but Komachi gave me a doubtful look.
“Hmm… I think the water’s the same as always, though.”
“It’s not like it got colder suddenly. Anyway, let’s eat breakfast and get going to school.”
“Yeah, okay.” With her slippers pattering on the floor, Komachi brought over the tea. It seemed the family choice was not Ayataka bottled tea but the kind of tea you brew in a pot.
We sat in our seats, put our hands together, and then quietly said our thanks for the food in unison.
During winter, the Hikigaya household breakfast often includes traditional foods like hot rice and miso soup. I guess the idea is to warm yourself up with miso soup before going out. Like a mom’s love…or something.
I have a sensitive tongue, so I was blowing on my miso soup to cool it. Komachi was doing the same when my eyes met with hers across the table. She placed her bowl down and slowly began, “…Hey…”
“Hmm?” I made a short sound to show I was listening and prompted her to continue with a glance.
Komachi peered searchingly at me. “Did something happen?” she asked.
“Not at all… In fact, my whole life has been a whole lot of nothing, actually. People do say that anything can happen, though, so from that perspective, maybe it’d be good to have a little bit of something. Like how having a chronic disease makes you go to the doctor a lot, so you end up actually being healthier. Maybe that whole lot of nothing is creating a paradoxical turbulence in my life,” I said, all in one breath.
Komachi blinked. “What’s going on, Bro?”
That was blunt. Unexpectedly so.
Damn, she got straight to the point. I mean, I know everything I just said was nonsense, but isn’t she gonna quip about any of it?
But I tried so hard on that and came up with a whole rant…
Maybe it really was the typical Monday blues, but I couldn’t get into my groove. “Well, you know…my point is—nothing.” I popped some fried egg into my mouth with my chopsticks. Are fried eggs considered Western cuisine or Japanese cuisine?
Komachi listened to my answer, then gave a weak “Hmm” in response. Then she slid her tray a little to the side, leaned forward over the table, and examined my face. “Hey, did you know?”
“What? Are you Mameshiba or something?”
Or maybe she’s Hakoiri-Neko, since she’s sheltered. Or no, she might be Rice Monster Pappu, since we’re eating right now. There’s no way she could be TapuTapu the Panda; Komachi isn’t particularly tubby. She was leaning forward, a pose that should have emphasized her chest area, so perhaps that part could be a little tubbier. No, no change necessary. She’s supercute as is.
As I was nodding to myself about this, Komachi breathed a short sigh. “You’re always full of crap, Bro, but when you’re not doing well, you double down on it…”
“Oh. I do…?” Komachi was always a difficult judge to please. I couldn’t argue with her accusation that I was full of crap. I really do only ever come up with nonsense. But that astute analysis of what I say and do—Is she a psychological investigator or something? The hell is with this profiling?
“Hey…” Poking at her salad with her chopsticks, Komachi paused as if she was chewing over what to say. The small tomato on her plate rolled around.
I could get a vague idea of what would come beyond that pause—was it because we were siblings? Or was it because I’d come to that same thought?
Komachi set her chopsticks down and examined me. “Did something happen…with Yui and Yukino?”
As she asked me that question, I was silently spooning food into my mouth; I’d been raised not to talk with my mouth full. I drank my miso soup slowly, swallowing down various feelings along with it. “…Did they say something?” I asked.
“No.” Komachi slowly shook her head. “They wouldn’t bring up stuff like that. You know that, don’t you, Bro?” she said, and I had no reply for her. Yukinoshita and Yuigahama will never shut up when it comes to trivial things, but they wouldn’t suddenly come to my sister to gossip. “I just had a guess,” she said, looking over to see my reaction.
Since we live together, she notices things, both good and bad, but there are some things I don’t want her realizing.
“Huh.” I replied with a basically meaningless noise and glanced over at the wall clock. Then I continued my meal with more enthusiasm.
But Komachi was keeping a more leisurely pace. “Make sure you actually chew. And…” It seemed she meant to keep going but was taking her time, because she could tell I was trying to end the conversation. She looked off in the other direction as if remembering something. “Something like this happened before, right?”
“Did it?” Even as I said that, I was clearly aware Komachi had to be talking about the incident from June. I think she’d pointed it out in the same way back then, too.
Hey, things haven’t changed at all. As expected of me.
No growth, or change, or anything.
Komachi squeezed her teacup as if warming her hands. Though I doubted there would be any tea stems floating to the surface, her eyes were pointed down at the liquid. “…But it seems a little different from last time.”
“Well, of course. People change every day. Your cells die and renew. Apparently, they’re all replaced every five or seven years or something. So it’s like, people are—”
“Yeah, yeah.” Komachi casually ignored me with an exasperated smile, then suddenly released her cup. It looked like her hands were on her lap. “…So what did you do?”
“I’m a little offended by that assumption,” I replied.
But Komachi simply stayed silent, looking into my eyes. With her focused gaze trained on me, I really doubted I could evade her by saying something stupid again.
I found myself aggressively scratching my head and looking away. “…It’s nothing. Because there never was anything.”
Komachi sighed. “Maybe you just don’t know you’re doing it, Bro. Oh, guess I have no choice… C’mon and tell me about it already!”
“I dunno…”
I’d been thinking about what happened this whole time.
It had only been a few days since we’d come back from Kyoto, but it had been on my mind. I’d been replaying my actions in my mind, wondering if I’d made a mistake somewhere or if there’d been some other problem.
But all that ever came of my pondering was the conclusion that I’d chosen the most efficient, reliable, and safe route. I believe with the limited time and few cards available, I’d managed to come up with fair results. I’d avoided the worst possible outcome, and I’d managed to fulfill the other request made of me, too. I couldn’t say for sure if they justified the means, but the end results were there.
But there was no need to explain that to Komachi in detail. As long as I understood, that was enough.
“It really is nothing.” I gave a lighthearted shrug. And then, as if to declare this conversation was now over, I went straight to bolting down the rest of my food.
But Komachi wouldn’t let the matter go.
“Oh, you. So what happened?” She tilted her head slightly, leaned her cheek on her hand, and gave a silly smile.
Her gestures were cutesy, but I could sense her determination. She wasn’t going to let me equivocate my way out of this one.
But I really was sick of this.
Normally, I wouldn’t feel irritated by Komachi’s prying. I’m sure I normally would’ve let it go with a smile or dodged it with some clever comment. However, if things had been normal in the first place, then Komachi wouldn’t have been pestering me so persistently, would she? It was as if the universe was forcing me to acknowledge the conscious effort I was putting into pretending this was all the same as usual. How aggravating.
“…You’re being really nosy. Get off my ass.”
“…”
I didn’t mean to say it that harshly, and it struck Komachi silent. But she only froze for an instant before her shoulders started trembling. Her eyes flared open wide as she shouted back at me. “Wh-why do you have to be like that?!”
“It’s a normal reaction. You’ve been way too nosy, and it’s annoying.” I’m sure that wasn’t what I should have said. There would have been any number of ways to avoid this outcome. But even so, once the words are out, you can’t take them back.
There’s no such thing as take-backs.
Komachi narrowed her eyes in a glare, but eventually, her gaze quietly dropped away. “…Hmph. Okay. Fine. I won’t ask again.”
“Good.”
And that ended all conversation at the breakfast table.
We both continued our meal in silence, and time seemed to freeze for us, passing incredibly slowly.
It wasn’t long before Komachi gulped down her miso soup and stood. There was some rattling as she swept together the tableware and bundled it to the sink. Then she pattered off to the door and stopped. Standing there, without looking at me, she said quickly, “Komachi’s leaving now. Lock the door.”
“Uh-huh,” I replied briefly, and Komachi slammed the door. Right as she did, I could hear her murmur to herself. “…I knew it. Something did happen.”
Left behind alone in the living room, I reached out to my tea. It had already cooled, and when I put my lips to the cup, the liquid was tepid.
It felt like it had been years since I’d last quarreled with Komachi like that. Guess it’s late to be noticing this, but I must’ve made her angry, huh…? I thought, a little worried.
Komachi rarely gets angry, but when she does, she holds on to it. What’s more, she was also quite definitely smack-dab in the middle of puberty. I didn’t know how she might look at me when she came back.
This is what I get, even with my own sister.
It truly is difficult to get along with people.
Autumn was well underway on my route to school.
The leaves of the trees that stood along the cycling course beside the Hanamigawa River were changing color or falling. The sky was clear, and the sea breeze was blowing air so dry, it was as if it had forgotten the humidity of summer.
Though gradually, the seasons were clearly changing. The visual transformation between summer and fall is particularly apparent, and in late fall, you can see the colors of winter.
This past string of seasons had been filled with perhaps the most varied changes.
Autumn has deepened
and I think of my neighbors.
What are they up to?
It’s a famous haiku.
It may be that curiosity about the actions of neighbors is rooted in the particular sorrow and dreariness of the season, or it may be from a touch of loneliness. That lonesomeness makes you interested in others, and the desire to stop that isolation turns your attention to the existence of other people. Seen from another angle, this could be interpreted as an expression of your desire for their attention.
They say the other is the mirror that reflects the self. Basically, all others are nothing more than false images seen through the filter that is the self, and therefore, all that exists is the self.
Ultimately, people only ever think about themselves.
The act of questioning what the neighbors are doing is merely a comparison of the self against others, a way to know where you stand by way of the question So then what about me?
Using others to substantiate yourself is lacking in sincerity. That’s the wrong way of pursuing the self.
Therefore, isolation is righteous, and isolation is correct.
I rattled along on my bicycle. It occasionally made some rusty squeaks, but I ignored that and pedaled away. At around this time, I wouldn’t be late—I’d make it to the classroom before the bell could ring, at least.
This was the time I normally came to school.
As I went into the bicycle parking, I heard pattering feet as a smattering of people rushed off. I parked my bicycle and hurried to the entrance like everyone else. Loners walk rather fast. It’s one of the skills you gain when you don’t often walk with other people. At the rate I’m currently mastering it, I might make the Japan national team for racewalking in the Tokyo Olympics. Or not.
The school entrance had a cheery air and the usual scene; it was a hubbub of good mornings and chatter spreading out over the stairs and into the hallway. After the major event of the school field trip, it seemed the same old ordinary school days were back.
When I went into the classroom, it was the same there, too.
I moved through the harmonious chatter without making a sound, between people and desks, going to my own seat to slide out my chair. I took a seat and waited for morning homeroom to start.
Though I was zoning out, my ears and eyes gathered information on their own. Seeing my classmates’ lack of reaction to me, I figured my fake confession the other day had not become public. Well, of course. It was common sense that nobody would spread it around. It wasn’t something Tobe, Ebina, or Hayama would enjoy having people know about.
The vibe in the class hadn’t changed, either. In fact, I felt like it was actually better than before.
It wasn’t that getting through this event had deepened their ties—I think it was the limited time making them like that.
Going to chilly Kyoto and feeling the change of the seasons, they’d finished one of the most major events in high school. Everyone had probably come to terms with that.
November would soon be over. Once we get into the latter half of December, there’s winter break and New Year’s sandwiched between then and January. Then there’s February, which is shorter, and then March, where spring break awaits, and moment by moment, time is being lost. We had only about three months of time left to spend in class.
That was what made my classmates value it. But for whose sake? It’s not for their friends.
It’s their youth they cling to. They hold on to their own time, to the space and time flowing around and through them. It’s like a sort of narcissism.
As I was making my arbitrary observations and arbitrary analysis, coming to arbitrary conclusions, a quiet yawn slipped from my mouth. Thinking about nonsense is proof that I’m tired.
Though we were only just out of the weekend, I felt like a sluggish weight still remained in my body. I slowly rotated my neck to loosen the stiffness in my shoulders.
My field of vision was full of the ever-familiar faces of my classmates, the people chattering away loudly. Ignoring them, I saw a certain ponytailed girl looking out the window.
Even in the restlessness of the classroom, Kawasaki remained herself, unchanged from before.
Looking farther to the front, there were some girls in a little clump, showing photos to one another. The one in the middle of the circle gleefully babbling away had to be Sagami. Considering all that had happened, she hadn’t grown much compared with before, which makes her a rather rare type, I think. Well, I’ll never be involved with her again, so who cares? Perhaps the school field trip had had some positive effects, as I couldn’t hear any backbiting from her.
Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t only Sagami and her friends talking about the field trip—the topic came up in conversations all over the classroom.
But what they discussed now would eventually turn into more memories, sinking to the bottom of their minds. Then this would change form, becoming a moment spent looking at photos or reflecting on the past. And I’m sure that was true not only for the school field trip but also for the time they spent right now.
I doubt many were aware of this. Or maybe they realized it unconsciously, and that was why they put on a false cheer, so they could enjoy themselves. I’m sure they would all eventually come to pretend not to notice, act like they’d never seen it.
So then maybe it was the same for them, too.
I turned my head around further to steal a glance at the back of the class.
The scene there was equally unchanged.
“So we came back to Chiba, right? And, like, the Keiyo Line was already all Christmassy, and I was like, Whoa! The Destiny Land ads were right in your face,” Tobe said in a lighthearted tone as he tugged at the overlong hair at the back of his head. He seemed to be enjoying himself with the others of the clique, just as he had before the field trip.
“Destiny Land’s going all out.”
“I know, man.”
Ooka and Yamato carelessly joined in on the conversation with the same casual vibe as Tobe.
“…Destiny Land, huh?” Miura said rather vacantly as she twirled her wide blonde sausage rolls around her finger. If Miura was attracted to Destiny Princess stuff, that was actually kinda girlish and sweet. In my opinion.
“It’s already that time, huh?” A smile wafted across Hayama’s face as he leaned his cheek on his hand.
Yuigahama, who’d been listening, touched her pointer finger to her jaw, looked up at the ceiling, hummed in thought, and said, “Oh, that reminds me. I think they got some kind of new attraction a little while ago.”
Ebina folded her arms pensively. “Huh? Wasn’t that in Destiny Sea? Sometimes I don’t even know which is which anymore… Which one tops?”
“Camouflage, Ebina.” Miura smacked Ebina on the head, and a smile slipped onto my face.
Hayama’s clique was the same as ever. That was a slight relief.
The world wished for things to be unchanging, to stay at a standstill.
Maybe that would eventually simply turn to obstruction and decay, but this world was obstructed and decaying to begin with. So all’s as it should be.
Hayama and Ebina didn’t come to interfere with my business, either.
That was an extremely correct choice. If they were to act as if nothing had happened, then they had to react to me just as they had before the field trip. Then the distance between us would remain constant.
As I was staring at them somewhat vacantly, suddenly, my gaze met Yuigahama’s.
“…”
“…”
It couldn’t have been much, not even a few seconds of eye contact. But it felt strangely long. The way our eyes sort of searched each other was uncomfortable, and I immediately looked away. I let my body weight lean on my head, supported by my left arm, and closed my eyes as if I were taking a nap. But even after I averted my eyes, my ears kept working.
“So, hey. Like, all of us going to Destiny Land or something? Yeah, man!”
“For sure.”
“Yeah.”
It seemed there was no actual content in this conversation, yet it would not end. But Yuigahama’s laughter was a part of it, at least, and that made me breathe a sigh of relief.
…Their conversations really are so void of content, though. It’s all about the vibe with them. Worthless.
Though maybe they were all just avoiding touching the core of things. It’s very possible that this inoffensive conversation was a way of acting out normalcy.
But anyway, how beautiful it is to have good friends, I guess. Facades are so lovely. Of course they are—that’s the entire point of glossing over everything else.
Therefore, the incredibly basic equation of friendship = beauty = facade holds valid. I really do have a sense for math. Which reminds me, apparently some sciencey types say completed equations are beautiful. I can get that. There’s a sense of security in the truth of an unchangeable and definite fact. But still, getting worked up over numerical expressions is a sign of a perverse attraction to science. Yikes. Science and math types really are creepy.
As I was killing time considering these trivial matters, I opened my eyes and glanced over at the clock. Guess the bell is gonna ring soon…
A figure rushed to the classroom barely on time, steps hurried but light. The door timidly slid open, and Totsuka, in his gym clothes, peeked his face in. He quietly checked inside, then breathed a deep sigh. He wiped some sweat off himself and glanced at the clock. “Phew, I made it…,” he muttered, seeming relieved, and then headed to his desk, exchanging greetings with his classmates on the way.
In passing, he noticed me and walked up to me, where I’d been watching the whole time. You might question why I’d been watching the whole time, to which I will ask in return, Who wouldn’t be?
He must have come running, as he was panting hard, cheeks flushed. His eyes looked somewhat moist, perhaps out of tiredness from morning practice.
“Morning, Hachiman.”
I lightly cleared my throat to avoid getting too worked up, then returned his greeting. But if I was too calm, it wouldn’t be like me. “…Yeah, morning.” I managed the perfectly modulated tone.
But Totsuka gave me a blank look of silent confusion. His casually raised hand stopped in position. “…”
“What is it?” I asked.
He waved his hand and beamed a smile as if to distract me from his silence. “Oh, no, I was just thinking, Huh, that’s a normal greeting.”
“…” His statement made me reflect on my recent response. Had something about it been different from usual?
But it seemed additional pondering would not bring an immediate answer. I abandoned thinking about it and said, “Yeah…well, I guess. It’s normal. Did you have morning practice, Totsuka?”
“Yeah. I haven’t gone in a long time, so I went a little too hard. Oh, have you recovered from the field trip, Hachiman?” he said.
I recalled the trip back from Kyoto. I’d spent most of the time on the return Shinkansen sleeping. That must have been what he was talking about. Well, I’d actually been awake for about half of it, but I just hadn’t felt like talking to people… Um, besides, you know, I hadn’t been in a great mood, and I don’t want Totsuka seeing me like that, right? It’s like, I always want to be the cool Hachiman Hikigaya in front of Totsuka. What the heck am I saying?
“Yeah, I’m all good now.”
“Oh, that’s great.” Totsuka smiled back at me, and that was right when the bell rang. He raised his hand a little, then went to his seat. I sent him off with a warm smile.
Yes, no more exhaustion for me. Not after that anyway.
With each class that came to a close, my body felt heavier and heavier. Automatically, I counted the hours left until school was over.
And then when day-end homeroom was over, that countdown ended, too.
I was out of time.
Taking my mostly empty bag in hand, I got to my feet. I left the classroom before everyone else who would be going to their clubs or returning home like me. I felt eyes on me from somewhere, but that gaze was cut off when I closed the door behind me.
A relaxed air flowed through the hallway. All the kids coming and going must have had places to be. Though their steps were slow, they never stopped.
I chose to walk along the edge of the hallway, out of the light of the sun, where the temperature felt a little cooler.
The crowds were thinner than usual when I descended the stairs. Some classes were probably still in day-end homeroom. Nobody called out to me or questioned me as I headed for the entrance, and I arrived without issue. There, I changed into my outdoor shoes and went to the bicycle parking lot. If I were to unlock my bicycle, a bit of pedaling would take me home even if my mind wandered somewhere else.
But that wouldn’t be like me.
I am me. The same as usual. So then I should spend my time the same way I had before.
The vending machine installed right in front of the school entrance caught my eye.
Let’s cheer myself up. I chose a canned coffee. Yet again, Ayataka tea was not my choice.
“…This is bitter.” I drank it down in one go and tossed the empty can into the trash. The bitterness spread through my whole mouth, and even once I was walking again, it still lingered.
My legs still felt heavy, but I forced them to walk, heading to the clubroom via a different route from how I’d gone before. As I walked along the hallways and climbed the stairs, I found myself thinking too much. Each thought drew a slow sigh from me.
And then, after a long time, I finally arrived in front of the clubroom.
Before I put my hand to the door, I took a deep breath.
I heard people talking inside. It was hard to hear their voices through the door, but it seemed the girls were there.
Now that I’d ascertained as much, I slid the door open all the way.
The talking stopped.
“…”
All three of us fell silent. Yukinoshita and Yuigahama looked at me, surprised. Did they think that since I was later than usual today, I wouldn’t come? Half-right. I wasn’t exactly feeling a proactive desire to come.
I was just being stubborn. It was a piddling stubbornness, spiteful and contrary, worn out and basically worthless.
It was my personal, tiny attempt to hold on to my past, my actions, and my convictions.
I dipped my head in a small greeting nod and proceeded to my usual position.
I pulled out the chair and sat, then took my current book out of my bag. The bookmark was in the same position it had been before the field trip.
Once I started reading, finally, time started again.
On the table there was a quilted tea cozy, baked sweets and chocolate, and a teacup and mug with steam wafting off both. The room was warm, perhaps because they’d boiled water, and it smelled like black tea. But it felt as if that temperature was dropping.
Yukinoshita’s cold gaze shot through me. “…You’re here.”
“Yeah, guess I am.” I replied with a nonanswer, turning a page I’d not yet read more than half of. After that, Yukinoshita didn’t say anything.
Yuigahama glanced over at me, too, but she merely twisted her mouth in a glum expression and then put those lips to her mug. But she did communicate to me with her body language. She was asking me why I’d come.
The accusatory silence went on.
I continued to follow the lines of words with my eyes. I leaned back in my chair, let my shoulders relax, and turned the pages of the paperback. It was an unproductive span of time, as I unconsciously counted the remaining pages of the book and the hours until I could go home.
There was the sound of a clearing throat, the sound of clothing rustling, the sound of a fidgeting leg.
Eventually, I heard the click of the long hand of the clock moving.
As if taking that as her cue, Yuigahama sucked in a little breath. “Oh, so yeah, everyone’s been pretty normal. Um, uh…everyone…,” she said, but she must have felt overwhelmed by the frigid chill in the room, as she gradually trailed off. But Yukinoshita and I were both giving her our attention.
By everyone, she must have meant Ebina, Tobe, Hayama, and Miura and the rest of them.
And indeed, even after the field trip, their clique hadn’t changed. It looked to me as if they were still spending their time as friends, trying to get along, like always.
“…Yeah, from what I could see, it seems like they’re none the worse.” No, I wasn’t proud of what I’d done. You could probably count it as the worst kind of way to handle things. But still, it hadn’t been for nothing, so there was a silver lining. So I’d say that was my honest opinion.
“…I see. Well then, that’s good,” Yukinoshita said, tracing the rim of her teacup. But nothing about her expression seemed to think so, and her somber gaze was pointed at the tea in her cup.
Yuigahama’s smile brightened as she patted her bun, apparently encouraged by her success in starting a conversation. “Man, I was so anxious about it, but it’s like, I didn’t even have to worry! Everyone’s totally…normal.” But she couldn’t maintain the energy. Her head drooped, and her last mumbled word had a somehow empty ring to it. “…I don’t really know what everyone’s thinking anymore.”
Who was that remark directed at? Realizing everyone meant more than Hayama’s clique, I found myself startled.
When I failed to react, Yukinoshita said, “…Well, it’s not as if you would ever have understood what everyone is thinking in the first place.” Her cold manner of speaking made Yuigahama choke up, and she fell silent again. The mug in her hands was no longer steaming.
With a pained look at Yuigahama, Yukinoshita continued, “Besides…even if you know each other, whether you can understand each other is something else.” Yukinoshita reached out for her teacup, head listing downward. She drank her tea, which I’m sure was cold by now, and then oh-so-quietly laid her cup on the saucer. As if she wanted to avoid making any noise at all.
The silence asked me the meaning of what she’d said.
“…Yeah.” Upon consideration, that was clear. Yukinoshita was utterly correct, and there was no fault to be found in her words. It was completely true.
I breathed a short sigh and pulled myself together. “Well, there’s no use worrying about it so much. I think it’s best for us to act normally, too.” If you want things to remain the same as before, then your surroundings have to stay that way, too. Connections between people can easily be cut—not only by internal causes but external ones, too.
Yuigahama slowly repeated what I’d said. “Us acting normal, too… Yeah…” She gave a tiny nod as if she was trying to tell herself that, though it didn’t look like it would work at all. I nodded to her in reply.
This was our choice.
No, it was my choice.
Only one person, Yukino Yukinoshita, did not approve, and she was looking straight at me. Overwhelming me with her glare, she slowly said, “Normal, hmm? …Yes, this is what’s normal to you, isn’t it?”
“…Yeah,” I replied.
Yukinoshita breathed a little sigh. “…So you’re saying you won’t change.”
I got the feeling she’d said something like that before. But it meant something completely different now from what it had then. Her words were without warmth, resigned, like it was over.
That stung.
“Do you…um…?” Yukinoshita stopped there as if it was too hard to say. Her eyes shifted as if searching for words.
Oh. This has got to be a continuation of the last time.
She was going to say the words she’d swallowed then.
I’d unconsciously braced myself for it, so I forced myself to relax and waited for Yukinoshita to talk. She was gripping her skirt. Her shoulders were trembling slightly. And then, as if she’d made up her mind, her throat bobbed in a swallow.
But the words never came out.
“Y-Yukinon! U-um, listen…,” Yuigahama started to say, then stopped and clunked her mug down hard on her desk. It was as if she’d sensed Yukinoshita shouldn’t say anything further.
But that was merely to delay the inevitable, pretending she couldn’t see it, burying it quietly and secretly out in the yard. The tension did not relax, and as the girls tried to find something to say, they only created a silence.
Just how long did this go on? It couldn’t have been that long. The only thing moving was the second hand of the clock.
But I was made aware of the time when a light knock came on the door. Our eyes all turned toward it, but nobody spoke.
Then there was another knock, another attempt.
“Come in,” I answered. I didn’t speak all that loudly, but it seemed my voice reached the door anyway.
The door rattled as it was shoved open. “Pardon me,” said Miss Hiratsuka as she entered the room.
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