0 Hina Ebina's musical is homoerotic, as expected.
…Lovely story.
Definitely not.
Silently, I finished reading the presentation proposal and set it down on the desk. The rather thick stack of paper exuded an indescribable, unique aura, not unlike the one you might expect from the Necronomicon if it were real. Written on the cover of the proposal was The Little Prince: The Musical. With a title like that, I was expecting more over-the-top tennis matches.
The season was fall, and with fall comes cultural festivals. The whole class bands together during this time, which is tiresome for those with a policy of proud independence. I don't fit in with Class 2-F enough to call it "my class," but today was the day they started buckling down for festival prep.
After much ado about the project for 2-F, the class decided that we would put on a play. When things are decided by majority rule, it's not my place to speak up. I'm always in the minority.
They put out a call for ideas, and one story in particular was submitted as a potential topic: The Little Prince.
I figure a lot of people have heard of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry's classic, even if they haven't read it. You might assume that Prince of Curry is a related product, but that's completely different, just so you know.
The story can be summarized thus:
The protagonist/narrator, a pilot, makes an emergency landing in the Sahara desert, where he meets the eponymous prince, and the two of them discuss a variety of topics and discover what's really important in life. It's an appropriate choice for a high school theater production, and it's fair to call the tale a world-famous masterpiece.
But the one thing that was different about this script…was that Ebina wrote it.
Right from line one, the characters, setting, and outline of Ebina's version of the story nearly broke my spirit. But even so, I willed myself to go on. Once I reached lines like "I've been to eight hundred different varieties of stars!" and "A certain pilot and a pervert prince," I gave up.
What does that girl think about her life? I fearfully glanced over at Ebina and discovered she was acting oddly coquettish and shy.
"This is a little embarrassing…"
"A little"? No, no, no, it's mortifying! Without a word, I folded up the printouts and decided to wash my hands of the whole thing.
A heavy cloud descended over our long homeroom period.
"Are we about done?" Hayama called out, scanning the room when most of us had finished reading Ebina's proposal. Typically, this task was in the class rep's purview, but since he was a naive and artless sort of boy, he hadn't built up a resistance to these topics and was now frozen.
"U-um…so what do you all think? If anyone has any questions or sees any problems…," Hayama said.
What wasn't a problem here…?
One of the girls in the class raised her hand. "Are there no girls in the play?"
"Huh? Why would there be?" Ebina tilted her head in bafflement. Hold on there, Miss Naughty.
There are no human women in The Little Prince, but the Rose is drawn to look feminine, so a girl could play the role, in my opinion. And they could consider how they wanted to portray the Fox or the Snake, too. They'd probably end up doing an anthropomorphized version, like that Shiki Theater Company production of The Lion King.
Another classmate raised their hand. "Is this even morally acceptable?"
"It's rated for all ages, so it's okay!" Ebina chirped.
Who mentioned ratings?
Most of the others seemed to be struggling with how to take this, too. Oda and Tahara were smirking, along with the other guys who knew a thing or two about fangirls, while most of the girls were perplexed.
Meanwhile, a certain someone was waving his hand around obnoxiously as he tried to get our attention. "I think it's a good idea, though."
Oh-ho, do I spy a desperate bid for Ebina's approval, Tobe? It was weird, whether you called it the guilelessness of a boy in love or an attempt to be cute. But, well, I guess that's universal. I mean, like, back when I was in middle school, I had a crush on this one girl, so I always found a way to make it so we happened to be walking home together, and so people ended up calling me a stalker behind my back until I almost cried… E-everyone does that, right? It's not just me…?
The reception was still decidedly lukewarm, so Tobe pushed even harder. "This stuff can be fun! I think it'd be more popular than a normal play!" An effective argument, apparently; the others all looked at one another as they began considering it.
Well, he had a point. This wasn't a BL novel, and a musical wouldn't hit the audience the same way as text on the page. A bunch of boorish high school boys professing their love to each other in weird costumes onstage would feel more like a sketch comedy.
Cultural-festival plays were judged most heavily on humor and originality. This script had both in spades. Leaving aside the pros and cons of the BL-esque elements as well as Ebina's proclivities as the author, I thought it would probably end up more or less okay.
"Yeah, I think we could take it a little in that direction. Besides, I wouldn't bring out the real deal here at school. Give me some credit!"
So Ebina is self-aware… If anything, the fact that she had arrived at this conclusion only added to my horror.
"Well, for now, we can ignore the character descriptions… So are we okay with emphasizing the comedic elements?" Hayama asked. No one raised any objections.
Well, it was a play for our school festival. It was the right choice to make it comedic rather than taking the whole thing seriously. Not only would a sincere take be awkward, with comedy, you can forgive a flub or two since it's just for laughs anyway. It'd be preferable to include those elements and just have fun with it.
"All right, then it's decided," Hayama said, and there was a smattering of applause right when the bell rang.
It had taken the entire long homeroom period, but the class had finally settled on what to do. There was still a lot left to decide, but now we could get things started.
There was just about one month until the festival. Yet another boring iteration of the yearly event.
Feeling a bit melancholy, I stood from my seat.
1 In the storm, Hachiman Hikigaya continues to slide.
The curtains swayed in the fall wind. Crimson-tinged wisps of cloud peeked out from behind the fluttering cloth. The window was open a crack to let the air in.
My eyes flicked over to it two, three times, and my hand stopped in the middle of turning a page. Those tiny, distracting movements in my periphery were getting on my nerves. I couldn't concentrate at all.
Sitting diagonally opposite me at the long table was a girl.
Yukinoshita had not so much as twitched in some time. Her gaze was pinned to the paperback in her hands, silently tracing the lines on the page. Since her back was to the window, the curtains were out of her field of vision.
Maybe I should've sat on that side, too, I thought, but since we'd both already settled in, going to the trouble of moving now would literally put me in an awkward position. Usually, I seated myself a little farther away from the window in the shade, while Yukinoshita always sat with the gentle touch of the light on her back. But now that we were entering into fall, the setting sun was looking dark. The days were getting shorter.
Summer vacation had ended, and we were a few days into September. Daytime weather was still very summery at this stage, but around this time, when sunset was approaching, cold winds would suddenly blow in.
The second semester had begun, but that didn't mean my lifestyle had changed much. Yukinoshita and I were still coming regularly to club. Even though all we did there was read. As Yukinoshita and I diligently buried our noses in books, Yuigahama fiddled with her sparkly, gem-studded, obnoxious cell phone.
The window frame rattled noisily in an especially strong gust.
The curtains flapped and waved, and my book blew to a different page. Curtaaaaaain! The curtains had really been asserting their presence for a while now. Curtain, curtain! Are you Bonchuu now?
It was irritating the hell out of me, so I glared at the window and clicked my tongue. The wind was obnoxious, too, but the curtains were far more so for just going along with it. Do you guys have no sense of individuality? The only things allowed to sway in the breeze are the balls flying over Marine Field and the skirts of cute girls.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, a skirt did indeed flutter as Yuigahama stood from her seat, about a chair and a half away, and went to shut the window with a snap. Her skirt had been so animated, I'd wondered if there was a Pokémon under there. I almost tried to capture it. Phew, nearly lost control of my pocket monster, there…
"The wind's picking up, huh?" she said.
The only reply was the rattling of the window.
Not one to be discouraged by the lack of reaction, Yuigahama spoke again. "I heard there's gonna be a storm." Now that she'd spoken twice, both Yukinoshita and I were forced to lift our heads from our books. Yuigahama looked a little relieved. "The weather was nice all break, and now this happens, huh?"
"Was it? Seemed pretty dark to me." I thought back on it, but I didn't have many memories of bright, sunny days. I only remember those when I go outside…
"You wouldn't know, Hikki, 'cause you never leave the house." Yuigahama gave me a little snort. Yeah, that was true.
"I mean…it's just, blackout curtains do their job, you know?"
"Were they doing maintenance on your grid all summer or something?" Yuigahama asked, her expression puzzled.
"What?" I asked back, equally puzzled.
"Huh?" Confusion on both our faces, we stared at each other until we both figured out we weren't talking about the same thing. Hey, come on, now. She can't have been asking that question seriously. Oh man, this girl is scary.
Yukinoshita, who was probably listening to this hopeless exchange, closed her book with a snap and ventured, "Just…in case, I'll explain… Blackout curtains are curtains that block out light. You're thinking of a rolling blackout."
Yuigahama paused briefly before she answered with some surprise. "Huh? Oh…o-of course! Yeah…I—I knew that…" At the end, she was avoiding our eyes completely.
I had pity on her and made a token attempt at helping her save face. "Well, you know, light blocking has an ancient and honorable origin for us Japanese. We even have those light-blocking clay figures. Historically speaking, it's in our blood." Abhorring the light, we are the people who have shouldered the fate of an affinity for darkness—the Japanese. Whoa, that was a pretty M-2 way to put that.
"Oh, really?! Yeah, now that you mention it, maybe you're right. I don't think pit houses and stuff like that had windows." Yuigahama gave me an appreciative ohhh.
Yukinoshita, meanwhile, had her hand on her forehead to hold back her headache as she breathed a short sigh. "Shakouki doguu are called 'light blocking' because they appeared to be wearing the snow goggles the Inuit wore to prevent snow blindness. It has nothing to do with blocking light in any way." Her voice was quiet and gentle as a whisper, but perfectly clear in the otherwise deathly silent room.
"Oh, really? H-huh…"
Yukinoshita was acting abnormally shy, considering she was in the middle of smugly revealing Yuigahama's ignorance. Nobody was going to talk now that she was like this. Worst of all, I couldn't come up with a snappy retort for her.
"…"
"…"
Maybe Yukinoshita decided to have mercy, since she ended her criticisms there.
After that, she went back to her reading, while I leaned on my cheek and flipped through my paperback with my free hand.
I could hear the wind howling in the distance. Phew, phew—I guess even the great outdoors is tired of this.
Someone cleared their throat, and it sounded incredibly loud.
Before I knew it, I could hear the second hand ticking.
I doubt humans differ much when it comes to sensing awkward silences.
As if she'd just remembered something, Yuigahama took a deep breath. "Hikki, you should seriously go outside more. Isn't that how you make vitamin C?"
"I think you mean vitamin D," I replied. "Making vitamin C? Are you Lemon-chan or something? Humans don't generate their own vitamin C."
"They don't?"
"Yep. And by the way, you can make enough vitamin D just by getting some sun for thirty minutes twice a week. Therefore, there's no need for me to go out of my way to leave the house," I told her pompously. I may be a humanities type, but I know plenty of trivia. In fact, that might even be part of being a humanities type.
Apparently shocked by my wealth of knowledge, Yuigahama shuddered. "Why do you know so much about this? Are you a health maniac? Creepy…"
That was pretty harsh. "…My parents said something like that to me, too, once, so I looked it up."
"Are you that desperate to avoid leaving the house…?" "How very like you, Hikikomori-kun," said Yukinoshita.
"Leave me alone…" I was about to add, And how do you know my middle school–era nickname? But I stopped short. Yeah…no need to mention that. I mean, like, that comeback just wasn't funny enough to say out loud. You know what I'm saying? Keeping my mouth shut was the right choice. It happens sometimes: Someone starts a conversation, you get carried away with your witty remarks, and then everyone goes dead silent.
Suddenly remembering a similar situation, I squirmed.
But even though I hadn't said it, everyone was still silent.
"…"
"…"
Yukinoshita didn't so much as twitch an eyebrow. She seemed bored as she looked at the pages of her paperback.
Her lack of response must have bothered Yuigahama, as she laughed to fill the silence. "Ah…ah-ha-ha… Hikki is a total hikki, am I right?"
"Hey now, ever since ancient times, this has been the most righteous and sacred lifestyle. Even the chief goddess of Japanese myth, Amaterasu Oomikami, went full shut-in." I will emulate the myths and stay in my house. I will follow in the footsteps of the divine; in other words, I will become the god of the new world.
"The gods of Japanese myth aren't all righteous, though," said Yukinoshita.
"Huh? Really?" Yuigahama asked.
"Yeah. It's pretty common in polytheism." The gods actually do a lot of crazy stuff. If you read a lot of myths, you'll find a whole host of outrageous tales.
Yuigahama hmm'd appreciatively in response. "The word god gives you the impression they're perfect, though."
If we're talking the capital G "God," that might be the rule, but when you say kami in Japanese, that's not all they are. These gods are not all-knowing, all-powerful beings of absolute justice.
As I ruminated on these thoughts, the following words suddenly rolled out of my mouth: "Well…you shouldn't try to fit anyone into a specific mold. Not gods or anyone else." I wasn't particularly expecting a reply from anyone. I was just making the most of my talent for monologuing.
After a long pause, the quiet reply was nearly drowned out by the sound of a page turning. "…Indeed." I doubt she was looking for a reply herself. She wasn't looking at anyone or talking to anyone.
You can't fit people into a mold.
Gods are the only ones you're allowed to expect perfection from.
You can't expect anyone to meet your ideals.
It's weakness. An evil to be abhorred. Carelessness to be punished.
It's a spoiled and naive thing to do, both to yourself and to others. The only person you're ever allowed to be disappointed in is yourself. The only person you're ever allowed to hurt is yourself. Just hate yourself for failing to meet your ideals.
The only one you can't forgive should be you.
"…"
"…"
The conversation came to a halt, and the air turned thick with tension. The seconds ticked by. Even though the windows were closed, the frozen time was making the room very cold.
"Uh, um…" Yuigahama's head whipped back and forth between me and Yukinoshita, and then her shoulders slumped dramatically.
Lately, all our exchanges had been like this. For days on end, we'd done our best to talk, tried to take a conversation somewhere. After two or three days of this, Yuigahama was, unsurprisingly, tired.
The wind slapped against the window, shattering the silence. The glass rattled, and the air in the clubroom shivered. Yuigahama glanced outside for an opportunity to continue the conversation. "It's gotten real bad out there, huh? If the Keiyo Line stops, you won't be able to go home, huh, Yukinon?"
"Yes."
Right, Yukinoshita took the Keiyo Line to school, if I recalled.
When a really large, powerful typhoon hits the Kanto area, Chiba becomes a lone island off its shore. All the railway lines on the network are paralyzed: the Keiyo Line first, then the Sobu Line, Joban Line, Musashino Line, Keisei Line, Tozai Line, and Toei Shinjuku Line. All of Chiba gets cut off from the rest of Japan, and it's halfway down the road to independence.
Come to think of it, Chiba does have a lot of railroads, doesn't it?
Aside from all the above, we have ones like Choshi Dentetsu and
Kominato Tetsudou that are all nice and gone to seed. The Uchifusa Line and the Sotofusa Line are also pretty major, but unfortunately, when you're living close to Tokyo, you can't tell the difference. Sometimes you get them mixed up in an honest mistake, and people get really pissed. The anger of the people of Chiba is like a blazing fire!
Anyway, when a typhoon hits, it causes a number of interruptions in the transportation network around the metropolitan area.
Yukinoshita would probably be affected one way or another.
"Right? So, I live pretty close…" Yuigahama trailed off.
The silence struck me as odd, so I looked and saw that Yukinoshita was utterly miserable. "…It's all right. If that happens, I'll walk home."
"O-oh. So it's not so far you can't walk…"
Yukinoshita lived about two stations away from the school. It really wasn't an unwalkable distance.
Yuigahama mustered her cheer again and spoke to me. "You ride your bike, Hikki?"
"Yeah," I answered, then glanced out the window. Fortunately, it wasn't raining yet. I had brought an umbrella, but I'd have preferred to avoid walking home with it up in these strong winds.
"Why don't you take the bus home on days like this?"
"Buses are crowded, so I don't wanna." Besides, most of the riders would be students from our school. If a classmate ended up next to me on the bus, it'd be a disaster. As long as it's someone who can ignore me, it's fine. But when someone I kinda know notices I'm there and stops chatting with their friends, it makes me feel really bad. It plagues my heart with guilt. So much guilt that I want to apologize for being born, like I'm Dazai or something.
And worst of all, if I got on the bus now, I'd end up going home at the same time as Yuigahama. And you know her. She'd definitely try to strike up a conversation.
—And if people saw us like that…
I always felt bad whenever people saw Yui Yuigahama being friendly with someone from the lowest caste. I didn't want to make her relive the experience of the fireworks show.
I just had to go home before the weather got any worse.
As the wind picked up strength, even the athletic clubs were starting to beat a retreat. Even if we did stay, I doubted anyone would come to consult with us. And just as the thought occurred to me, the door to the clubroom banged open before the sliding noise could even warn us that we had a visitor.
"You kids are still here?" Miss Hiratsuka, the Service Club's teacheradvisor, entered without knocking as she always did. "The other clubs are already finishing up. You all go home early, before the weather worsens."
When Yukinoshita heard that, she closed her book with a snap. "Let's end it here for today." The low-hanging clouds outside darkened everything in the clubroom, even Yukinoshita's expression.
"Right, then… Take care, you all." Miss Hiratsuka seemed concerned for Yukinoshita, but she walked out without saying anything more.
Neither Yuigahama nor I offered any objections. We just packed up our things and left.
"…I'm going to go return the key," said Yukinoshita, and she strode off down the empty hallway without another word. I didn't watch her go; I just headed for the entrance. Yuigahama seemed a bit unsure about what to do, but about three seconds later, she followed after me.
Neither of us said a word until we put on our outdoor shoes. The only sound in the deserted entryway was the plop of my loafers hitting the ground. I stuffed my feet into them and went outside.
"I'm taking my bike," I said.
"Okay. Bye." Yui gave a little wave in front of her chest, and we exchanged our short farewells.
The wind was oddly tepid. Must have brought in some humidity from the south.
I frantically pedaled my bicycle into the headwind. I'd been abusing my city bike for over a year now, and it creaked and whined to let me know.
No matter how I pedaled and pedaled, I didn't feel like I was getting anywhere. I was even starting to feel like I was being pushed backward. The wind was so strong, it nearly broke my spirit, but I kept the pedals turning.
Twilight came earlier now, but the sun hadn't completely set yet. However, thick clouds obscured what natural light would have remained. Lampposts stood at regular intervals, shining unreliably, and plastic bags and empty cans tumbled along the road.
I could smell wet earth in the dark, and then black spots began to appear on the asphalt. One by one, the stains increased, each one accompanied by a loud plip.
Eventually, the black covered the whole ground. The drops were pouring down in a rush with no concern at all for me, hitting my bare arms so hard it stung a little. The mercilessly pounding raindrops turned my white uniform shirt translucent. Too bad there were no high school girls around.
What a pain in the ass. What the hell, man… I grumbled under my breath, and then I pulled my umbrella off my bicycle and deployed it to shield me.
An instant later, a blast of wind broke it entirely. The ribs snapped and pointed every which way, and the plastic part became a sail. The wind drags me away, ah, like a yacht. I lost my balance, panicked, and put my feet on the ground.
…I'd just about fallen on my face. Wiping off the cold sweat and rainwater, I surrendered and folded up my broken umbrella.
This really is a pain in the ass.
The wind was drowning out all the other sounds, and I could hardly keep my eyes open in the driving rain. My drenched clothing was leeching away my body heat, and the added weight from the water made my body feel heavy. My vision was already fogging up.
In the rain, everything just thoughtlessly skims along the surface— tires, words, thoughts.
I could see the Hanami River from my route, spitting out an endless flood of dark water to wash away everything.
Only I was left behind in the storm.
2 Minami Sagami aggressively makes a request.
Typhoons meant that either school would be canceled, or it'd start late. Or so I had hoped, once upon a time. But it was not to be; the typhoon passed during the night, and by morning, I was back to my usual daily routine. In the end, the sun was shining bright and perfect in the sky, and I was doing so, so great.
I was not doing great.
I'd thought that at the very least I could use the typhoon as an excuse to be late, so I'd stayed up the previous night. Now I was really tired. With my lack of sleep, I was just about qualified to be the opening song for Kiteretsu.
Typhoons these days are so unmotivated. It sucks.
Though I somehow did make it to school on time, exhaustion reared its head the whole way through. Usually, during breaks, I'd put my head down on my desk and pretend to sleep, but that day, I really was asleep.
And not just on breaks, either. I was battling the sandman in class, too. I tried leaning my cheek on my hand, lying my face on my desk, and pillowing my head between my arms, in my desperation to find the best position. I mean, you know, fighting isn't nice after all, so it's best to just settle things peacefully. Yep. I think I'll stay on friendly terms with the sandman.
Meanwhile, class ended.
I concluded that sandwiching my head between my arms, facedown on my desk, was decent. I didn't get sleep marks on my face that way. The problem is that it really hurt my neck, shoulders, and back.
At this rate, I could manage a shallow nap at best, and to make it worse, forcing myself into this uncomfortable position was only ramping up the sleepiness. I had to lie down and get some shut-eye, or I wouldn't feel rested.
Now that it had come to this, there was only one place I could go. I stood up and wobbled over to the rear door of the classroom.
The moment I opened the door…
"Ack!"
"Whoops, sorry," I said. It wasn't like I crashed into the other person with a kablam! , but I did feel a slight impact on my chest. I'd bumped into the person coming in right as I was leaving. Hey, who is this person who doesn't watch where he's going and shouldn't get his driver's license of the year?
I glared at whoever it was, until I got a better look and recognized the familiar squirrel-like boy trembling there oh-so-cutely. He was out of breath as he came into the classroom—the one who really should not get that license because I just want him to be in the passenger seat forever while I drive…of the year, Saika Totsuka.
"Oh, Hachiman. Sorry…"
"O-oh, no! I should be apologizing. I was kinda zoning out there." To be honest, I'm still zoning out now. Coincidence though it was, I'd ended up catching Totsuka in my arms. Phew… That was close. If Totsuka had been holding bread in his mouth, love would have blossomed right there.
Noticing the position we were frozen in, Totsuka gently pulled away from my chest. "Sorry. It's because I was in a rush… Where did you mean to go, Hachiman? It's time for the next class."
"I've just got some stuff." I couldn't simply confess that I was going to skip and sleep in the health room. If you're gonna brag about your crimes like that, do it on Twitter.
Totsuka seemed a bit curious about my answer. "But during the next class, we're going to decide roles for the cultural festival. So maybe you should stay?"
"Oh, is that right?" In the long homeroom the other day, we'd only decided what the class plan was. In the next class, we'd probably be able to move on to discussing the details.
"Well…I'm okay with anything." No matter what I did, it'd all be the same anyway. As usual, I'd be no more than present. A being that just is. Once the prep work got started, the most I could expect to do was stand there like an unusual totem pole. No matter what role I was assigned, my life wouldn't change. I wouldn't have anything to do, so I'd only sort of hover behind someone, peek at what they were doing, and go, "Hmm…" like I knew what I was talking about and mutter to myself as I waited for someone to ask me to do something. Like a martial arts master who specializes in counterattacks.
"You can just shove me in whatever's left at the end," I said.
There was no way for me to know if Totsuka understood what I was thinking, but still, he nodded, his expression a little mystified. "Okay, then."
I waved a hand casually to say my thanks and left the classroom.
In the hallway, I heard the bell signaling the start of class as I headed for the nurse's office on the first floor of the special building. As you might expect, there were no students wandering the halls at this hour, and it was silent as I walked along.
It was a little chilly near the nurse's office. I knocked lightly and opened the front door, and the pungent smell of disinfectant hit my nose. Inside, a girl was chatting with the school nurse. Until I came in anyway. The girl whose name I didn't know dropped her eyes to her phone uncomfortably. I kinda felt like I'd done something bad. Sorry, tee-hee. :P
"My, my, you're one of Shizu's," said the school nurse, a young woman in a white coat. She watched me intently.
I dunno about that. Talking like Miss Hiratsuka is my mom is bound to make a person angry, y'know. Miss Hiratsuka, mainly. For the implications about her age.
"I kinda feel like I'm getting a cold." Briefly, I explained the reason I'd come. While I was at it, I also assumed an air of mild exhaustion. Times like these, my acting is flawless. I wouldn't be surprised if they started calling me the Master of the Cold. Oh man, that title sounds so cool. I mean, even the kanji character for the illness comes from putting "wind" and "evil" together. That's a pretty distinctly M-2 naming sensibility, there.
"Amateur diagnoses are dangerous. Show me." But though I'd poured my heart and soul into my performance, the school nurse casually brushed it aside.
Tch. Unsurprisingly, she had a lot of experience dealing with students trying to skip out. This school nurse had seen it all. So she won't be deceived so easily!
The nurse's eyes were piercing, as if she were attempting to see through my lies. No, it may be more accurate to say she was leering at me. In the world of Pokémon, my defense would have been reduced. "…You've got a cold, all right."
"That was a fast diagnosis." What the hell was with that lead-up? I shot her a look of annoyance, partly to protest.
She laughed at me pleasantly. "I mean, your eyes are so dull. You're clearly sick."
By that logic, I was sick 24/7. And what do you mean, "dull" anyway? Even dull-skied London turns to Paris once things brighten up.
The nurse scribbled something on her clipboard, then turned back to me. "Now, then. What will you do? Get some rest here?" she asked. And will you equip that right now? I almost expected her to add.
"Oh, sure."
"The bed at the end," she replied briefly, and I did as I was told.
It was divided off by a curtain, with a neatly folded thin blanket lying on top. I pulled it over my stomach and lay down.
Beyond the pink curtains, the chat resumed again. Only the sound of their voices remained faintly in my ears as I drifted away.
What…did you say…?
It was just after my break. When I came back to the classroom, I learned that I'd been forced onto the Cultural Festival Committee. On the blackboard was my name, Hikigaya, and underneath it, committee member. Gyawaa! This is conspiracy!
Okay, I know I said I was fine with whatever job was left over. It'd be the same no matter what I did, so I was ready to accept any petty job in silence. But do they feel no pangs of conscience for giving me the job nobody wants to do? Standard procedure for this situation is to toss a loner some harmless and inoffensive job, right? It's always been that way, at least for me.
The fabled "you weren't there, so we made you the committee president, lol" method is something popular kids do to each other in good humor, and that's exactly why it's been established as a funny joke among themselves. When you pull that with someone from a different cultural sphere…
That's war…! It doesn't count…! It doesn't count!
Dumbfounded, I was standing there in front of the blackboard when I felt a slap on my shoulder.
"I suppose you need an explanation?" Without even turning around, I knew who it was.
H-here she coooomes. The thirtysomething teacher who wants to get married right now, Shizuka Hiratsukaaaaa.
I accepted her offer and wordlessly asked for an explanation.
Miss Hiratsuka blew a short sigh and glanced at the clock. "It was time for the next period, but the class was still quibbling about who'd be on the committee. So we went with you."
Hold on there, Japanese teacher. You can't use so in that sentence. There's no causal relationship here. "What's this about, Miss Hiratsuka?"
"What do you mean?"
"This is crazy! What do you think a loner is?! Forcing one into the middle of a class event will only bring about tragedy!"
These committees exist for the fun and excitement of social groups. My presence would only have them all walking on eggshells! The teacher could have tossed me into a position where I wouldn't have much influence, where things would be fine whether I was there or not, where nobody would have had to bother with me, and where we all could have gotten through this comfortably! I'll take Gandhi's nonviolent civil disobedience and raise you nonnegotiable noninterference!
"I thought about checking to see what you wanted, but…you did say you were fine with anything, right?"
Oof…, I thought, expelling a sigh. Looking over to the window, I saw Totsuka putting his hands together apologetically. Cute. Oh, pressing the wrinkles of each hand together is happiness. Naamuu.
As I was looking away from Miss Hiratsuka, the wrinkles on each side of her forehead came together. Iron out your wrinkles before you work on mine. Wriiinkllles.
"Just sit down. I have to start class. Decide the rest after school."
After school, the classroom was chaos.
They were deciding who would be in charge of what for the cultural festival. Typically, they would have made these decisions in the previous class, but it had apparently taken them such a long time to decide who would be the male committee member that Miss Hiratsuka had made the tyrannical decision that it would be me. This is what they call abuse of power…
Ngh! If only I were higher on the ladder! Then I could have forced this onto someone else! Abusing your power all the way down the chain is the core of Japan's hierarchical society. Recently, I'd been thinking, Man, I'm so Japanese. I'm feeling my Japanese identity rather strongly right now.
So this was why the female committee member had yet to be decided.
The bespectacled class representative was directing the class from the teacher's podium. I didn't know his name. People mostly just called him Class Rep. If he had been a girl, then I'm sure she would have the popularity of a committee president character, but unfortunately, it was a boy. I guess "Class Rep" was enough of a name for him.
"Okay, any girls who want to be on the committee, raise your hands," he said. Obviously, no one was going to react to that. The class rep sighed in resignation. "If we still can't decide on someone, we could do rock-paper-scissors—" "Huh?" Miura cut him off.
He seemed scared, as he gulped down the rest of his words. Silencing him with a single syllable—were you born in a temple? Truly incredible.
After that, there was more sporadic chattering in between the silences, over and over. Many times, I witnessed the same exchange: A conversation would start up somewhere, the class rep would suggest that person, and each time, silence fell again.
"Um…is it really hard?" Yuigahama asked, apparently unable to watch anymore.
The class rep looked clearly relieved. "Normally, I don't think it would be, but…the girl might ultimately end up having a hard time," he said, glancing over at me. That four-eyes. He just indirectly announced I was DFA. That four-eyes. He'd acted so embarrassed about saying it, too, so I couldn't even get mad. I just ended up feeling bad. Sorry, Glasses Guy. Now, now. Go ahead, Glasses.
"Hmm…," Yuigahama said with a conflicted glance my way.
The class rep seemed to take that as hesitation, and he pounced on the chance to go on the attack. "Frankly, it'd be a big help if you did it, Yuigahama. You're popular, you'll do a good job bringing the class together, and I think you're qualified."
"Well, I'm not really like…" Yuigahama was replying ever-so-shyly when someone interrupted, cold as ice water.
"Wait, you're gonna do it, Yui?"
"Huh?" Yuigahama turned around to look at the girl. I think her name was…Sagami?
Sagami was in a group with three other girls, some distance away from Yuigahama and her friends. Unlike Miura's clique, which sat by the window at the very rear of the classroom, Sagami's was on the hallway side, partway to the back.
"That's so nice. I'm sure you'll have lots of fun planning this event with your friend," said Sagami, and her friends giggled scornfully.
Yuigahama replied with a vague smile. "Mmm. It's not really like that, though."
Sagami shot a meaningful look toward me, and the smirk that accompanied it was incredibly ugly. And the giggling whispers she exchanged with the other girls sitting near her were as grating as you could get.
It was completely obvious what their laughter was about. It was just like the day of the fireworks show.
Both of us had to deal with those sneers, scornful but curious. She always from the inside, and me always from the outside. Their snickering lapped at my ears like little wavelets.
"But, like…" A haughty voice cut through the noise like a foot stomping into a thicket, and all the insects went silent. "Yui's gonna be bringing in guests with me, so she can't," Yumiko Miura stated, her attitude decisive and confident.
Sagami's followers must have been overwhelmed by her intensity, as they fell completely silent.
"Oh, really?" said Sagami. "Yeah, that's pretty important, too, huh?"
"Y-yeah, yeah!" Yuigahama echoed. "Bringing in guests is important, too… Wait, when did we decide that's what I'm doing?!" Yuigahama had just been going along with everyone else, so she was caught off guard, too. And I thought only the male committee member had been decided…
For her part, Miura was a little confused by Yuigahama's reaction. "Uh…w-we're not doing that together? A-am I wrong? Was I just assuming?"
"It's okay, Yumiko! You're basically right. It's just who you are!" Ebina stuck out her tongue, winked, and gave a thumbs-up. Yeah, well, it really was very Miura, wasn't it?
"C'mon, Ebina, don't be so…flattering! It's embarrassing!" Unfortunately for Miura, blushing bright red as she gave Ebina a whap, the comment was probably not supposed to be flattery.
Off to the side, Yuigahama's shoulders dropped just a wee bit. "S-so I don't have the right to decide…"
You only just realized that? But relax. Someone like me doesn't get any options at all, since Miss Hiratsuka decided for me in her despotic wisdom, and nobody really wanted me in that position anyway. I'm pretty damn unwanted here.
We hadn't made any progress at all, and the class rep breathed a short sigh. You could feel the grief of middle management in that sigh. "In other words, we're okay as is?"
Hayama had only been watching, but he finally broke his silence, without raising his hand. Naturally, all eyes gathered on him. The class rep's glasses sparkled in anticipation.
"We want help from someone with a knack for leadership. How does that sound?"
Hayama's words were exceedingly respectable, valid, and reasonable. Well, if someone's going to be in charge of something for the cultural festival, leadership is a must, obviously. The only problem in his phrasing was it sounded like he meant I had none of that. Well, he's not wrong. The only kind of ship I've got is me/Totsuka, apparently.
Anyway, he was saying this job should go to someone of the highest caste. But the boys' seat was already occupied by me, and clearly, no one was interested in the girls' seat.
The general sense in such a situation is that if there were no takers from the top caste, then the role would be passed on to the B-group.
Tobe grasped precisely what Hayama was implying. "So why not Sagami?"
"Oh, that might be a good idea. She'd do a good job," said Hayama. This was exactly the conclusion he'd been steering us toward, yet Hayama acted as if Tobe had convinced him.
Tobe, being Tobe, answered with a smug "Right, man?" or something. He's a little cute and very pathetic.
Whereas Sagami, suddenly finding herself at the center of the conversation, was waving her hand in front of her face in a tiny gesture of refusal. "What? Me? Could I even do that? No way." Though her pose said no, she wasn't the least bit sincere. Come on, I'm a first-rate expert in rejection. You can't fool me. When a girl is actually turning you down, her face is a mask and her eyes are frigid as she goes, Um, could you stop, seriously? The sheer terror makes your heart freeze over as you wish for death.
Hayama clearly understood that much about the inevitable course of events, as he put his hands together in apology as if he were just making doubly sure. "Would it be possible to ask you, Sagami?"
"Well…if there's no one else, I guess I have to. Really? Me…?" But even as Sagami grumbled for the benefit of everyone else, she was clearly happy, and her cheeks were pink. Is this Jigoku no Misawa now? Getting a request from Hayama, or rather, being the person Hayama chose to request, probably didn't feel so bad for her.
"I'll do it, then," Sagami replied with feigned reluctance.
The class rep clouded his glasses with a sigh of relief. "All right. Then we're done for the day," he said, exhausted, and then everyone filtered out of the classroom.
The committee meetings began that very day.
It was three forty-five in the afternoon, and I mentally confirmed the schedule.
The most vital ability for maintaining a solo position at school is selfmanagement. I have to have a good general grasp of when we're switching classrooms, which days are holidays, and what the schedule is after school. As for why: because nobody would tell me.
I'm an expert in finding out about holidays, especially.
The time of the meeting was looming near, so I started heading to the conference room.
There was a smattering of other people on their way there, too.
Some among them were co-ed groups, chatting as they went along. Good grief, you can't even head to the conference room alone, you lost children in life.
The room assigned to the Cultural Festival Committee was as big as two normal classrooms, with some fairly legit chairs and tables. It was apparently normally used for staff meetings.
When I entered, I found about half of the committee already assembled. Sagami was among them, too. She'd probably left before me. She was also chatting with two other girls. Either they'd been friends before, or they'd become friends very quickly.
"Like, it's such a relief you're on the committee, too, Yukko. I was wondering what I'd even do here, you know?"
After Sagami got the ball rolling, the other two reacted. "I'm just doing it 'cause I lost at rock-paper-scissors."
"Me too! Oh, Sagami, can I call you Minami?"
"Sure, sure. What should I call you?"
"Haruka is fine!"
"Haruka… Wait, you're on the girls' basketball team with Yukko, aren't you?"
"Yep, yep."
"Nice! Maybe I should've joined a club, too. I've got no luck with my class."
"Ohhh, Class F is the one with Miura and stuff, huh?"
"Yeah…" Even dejected as she was, Sagami was a formidable person, but the girl who immediately named Miura in the context of "class luck" was pretty scary herself.
The frightening thing about the way girls talk is that even when there's nothing nasty about each of their words individually, when you put them all together, it's deadly venom. It's a lot like how the trace amounts of poison in some creatures turn into lethal tetrodotoxin when they're stored inside a puffer fish.
"But you get to be with Hayama, so that's cool."
"I guess. He recommended me for the committee, too. Though it's kind of embarrassing."
Seriously, who are you—Sagamisawa?
Perking up my ears, I listened in on other groups' conversations.
Every new arrival created a little stir. As we approached the starting time, the number of people in the room increased, one by one. Each time the door opened, all eyes would turn to the entrance, but once it became clear it wasn't someone they knew, they'd quietly look away. I don't like those looks… It's like they're announcing, It's not you I was waiting for. Boring.
But things were completely different with the next person to come in.
The moment the door opened, the loud chattering stopped instantly.
It was like someone had slapped a hand over all their mouths as Yukino Yukinoshita walked in with silent footsteps. Her usual overbearing attitude was muted. Everyone had stopped breathing, as if they were watching snow melt away.
Yukinoshita recognized my presence and paused for a moment. But she quickly jerked her gaze away, took a few steps, reconsidered, then took a few more steps toward a nearby empty chair. Until she sat down, time in the conference room was clearly frozen.
I should have been used to her by then, but even I couldn't help but stare for a moment. Maybe it was seeing her out of her usual context. Or maybe it was because I was surprised to see her here with the Cultural Festival Committee.
Time was already moving again. Though reluctantly, the hushed chatter resumed its ebb and flow. Then right about when the second hand was about to hit the time for the meeting to start, there was a thunder of footsteps, and the door to the conference room clattered open again. A group of students came in holding printouts, with the gym teacher, Atsugi, and Miss Hiratsuka following behind.
Why's Miss Hiratsuka here? I wondered, looking at her. Our eyes met, and she grinned at me. The smile was much younger and cuter than you would expect from someone her age. That is to say, it was malicious.
I knew it. I've been had.
A few of the students gathered at the front of the conference room and looked toward a pleasant sort of girl, who answered with an affirmative nod. At the signal, two apparent first-years began passing out some documents to all of us present. After making sure everyone had their copies, the girl gently rose to her feet. "Now then, let's begin the Cultural Festival Committee meeting."
Her medium-length hair fell to her shoulders, and her bangs were held back with a hair clip. Her smooth, pretty forehead gleamed in the light. She wore her uniform entirely according to regulations, but her embroidered lapel badge and the colorful hair elastics around her wrists gave her a cutesy look. As she beamed around at everyone, her orders were somehow pleasant. All the students sat up straighter.
"Um, I'm Meguri Shiromeguri, the student council president. I'm really glad to have the opportunity to join all of you in running another cultural festival this year… U-um, so…l-let's all do our best! Yeah!" Meguri ended with a simple cheer, and without a moment's delay, the student council applauded for her. The rest of the crowd followed suit.
Meguri gave a couple of pleasant nods in response. "Thank you very much! All right, then let's get straight to selecting a committee chair." The crowd murmured a little.
Well, of course. I'd thought for sure the student council president would also head the committee.
Meguri gave a rather wry smile. "I'm sure many of you already know, but every year, a second-year is selected as chair of the Cultural Festival Committee. I'm, you know, already in third year, so…"
Oh, that makes sense. I mean, you couldn't do something like this right at the beginning of fall in third year. You'd have to study for entrance exams and stuff.
"Okay then, so do we have any volunteers?" No hands rose.
No surprise there. I don't think it's that the students weren't into the cultural festival. I think a lot of them were pretty gung ho about it. But wanting to demonstrate your skills, be active, and work hard was a whole 'nother field.
It's natural to want to work together with your own class or your club as much as possible. You want to be with your close friends and enjoy an emotional event together with that certain someone you'd been thinking about.
This was demanding you to work your ass off with a bunch of randos.
"Anyone?" Meguri said with concern, but the conference room maintained its silence.
Then Atsugi, the gym teacher, cleared his throat like a war cry. "Wagh! Come on, kids, show a little motivation! You don't have enough ambition! Ambition! Listen up! The cultural festival is your event." He was so passionate about this, I thought he might end that sentence with a See ya, folks!
Apparently, Atsugi was going to be a teacher-advisor for the cultural festival. Miss Hiratsuka, standing beside him with her arms folded and eyes closed, probably occupied the same role.
Atsugi scanned the conference room, making eye contact with each one of the students, until he came to a halt on Yukinoshita. "Oh…you're Yukinoshita's little sister! We'll be expecting a cultural festival like that old one." There was an implicit message behind his comment: Of course, you'll be the committee chair, right?
Meguri seemed to pick up on that, too, and she muttered, "Oh, she's Haru's little sister."
Haruno Yukinoshita strikes again. She must have left quite an impression on both the teachers and her juniors.
"I'll give my utmost as a regular member of the committee," Yukinoshita replied very simply, in a manner that wasn't discourteous. But the twitch of her eyebrow hinted at her slight irritation.
Atsugi knew a flat rejection when he saw it and gave a noncommittal, half-hearted uh-huh or sure and fell silent. That meant it was Meguri's problem now.
She folded her arms exaggeratedly and groaned, sinking deep into reflection. "Hmm… Um, well, being the committee chair can earn you a lot of brownie points. You know, with the teachers. It might help out a lot for anyone looking for a recommendation to a particular university."
Is this girl an idiot? That wasn't going to inspire anyone to volunteer. Now you'd look like you had blatant ulterior motives.
"Um…how about it?" Meguri was still looking at Yukinoshita as she asked.
Whether Yukinoshita noticed or not, she stubbornly refrained from reacting and stared right back.
Yukinoshita doesn't like standing up in front of a crowd. She's not the type to chair a committee. But under Meguri's bright grin, it must have been awkward. Yukinoshita shifted a bit. Perhaps you could call it the pressure of a pure smile. There's nothing nastier than an innocent gaze.
If Meguri works on her a little longer, I think Yukinoshita will fold…
Just as Yukinoshita blew out a deep, resigned sigh, there was an "Um…" The odd sense of tension slackened all at once.
Breaking the silence was a somewhat timid voice. "If nobody else wants to do it, then I wouldn't mind." The source was three seats away from me: Minami Sagami.
Meguri clapped her hands with glee at the offer. "Really? Great! Then can you introduce yourself?" she prompted.
Sagami took a breath. "I'm Minami Sagami, from Class 2-F. I was kinda interested in something like this…and I've been hoping this cultural festival might help me grow as a person, I guess… I'm not really good at being a leader, but… Wait, I shouldn't say that. Then it'd just be like, 'Don't do it,' right? Yeah, that's something about myself I wanna change. And I think this'll be a chance to practice some new skills, so I want to do my best."
Why do we have to help you with your personal growth? I wondered, but it seemed like no one else had any serious objections.
"Yep, yep," said Meguri, "I think it's a good idea, too. New skills are important."
A couple of people clapped, and a smattering of applause continued throughout the classroom. Sagami gave a slightly embarrassed little bob of a bow and then sat in her seat.
Glad they'd found a candidate and settled on her, Meguri muttered a quiet "Yes!" as she stole a marker from the secretary and wrote on the whiteboard Committee chair: Sumo.
Uh, those are the wrong characters. She's not E. Honda, you know…
Meguri tossed the marker back to the secretary and then, with a flutter of her skirt, spun around to face the room. "Okay then, now we'll decide everyone's roles. I've written a simple explanation of each section in the meeting overview, so please read those now. I'll take your requests in about five minutes."
As instructed, I glanced over the outline that had been handed out to me.
Publicity and Advertisement, Volunteer Management, Equipment
Management, Health and Sanitation, Accounting, Records and Miscellaneous…this was all some fancy-sounding stuff. But still, a cultural festival put on by high school kids couldn't be that complicated. My little sister, Komachi, had been on student council or something back in middle school. It hadn't seemed that hard. It was a school function after all. You just had to walk firmly down the rails laid down for you. Like in Stand by Me.
I skimmed over the paper. Which one seemed like the least amount of work?
Publicity and Advertisement. Well, I didn't even have to read the blurb for that one. That was the thing where you went around putting up posters at convenience stores or whatever. You'd have to draw pictures and negotiate with people to get them displayed. The only future I could see for myself there was open humiliation. Pass.
Volunteer Management. You'd be handling the volunteer groups: basically, the people who'd be performing in bands or dancing. Yeah, no. Clearly, you'd have to deal with top-caste people. I have dealt with loan groups, though. No thanks.
Equipment Management. Borrowing the tables the classes would use and managing the transport of electronics, I figured. I couldn't handle carrying tons and tons of stuff. It sounded super-exhausting. I might be able to carry the beat with some castanets, though. Untan , untan. Ignore that one.
Health and Sanitation. Oh, that's the one where you have to arrange all the applications for food-related stuff. Maybe I'd have done it if it were health and physical education. Declined.
Accounting. Yeah, yeah, financial matters. Well, if some kind of problem ever did come up, I sure wouldn't be able to handle it, so I'd be in trouble. Money stuff is scary. Firmly refused.
…I think that just now was a little much, even for me.
So then it was looking like the only thing I could do was Records and Miscellaneous. From what I'd gleaned as I skimmed, about all you had to do was take some pictures the day of the event. It wasn't like I had any plans for that day anyway. It should make a perfect excuse for killing some time.
After reaching my conclusion, I stretched lightly with a hnn. While I was at it, I looked around the area to see that most of the others had decided as well. They were zoning out, fiddling with their phones, or entertaining themselves with idle chatter.
Some of the loudest among these voices were near me.
"Oh man, I just went and made myself committee chair, didn't I?"
"It'll be okay. You can handle it, Sagamin."
"Maybe. I don't know. But, like, I feel like what I said was superembarrassing. It wasn't too much?"
"No way; it was nice! Besides, we'll be helping you out, too,"
Sagami's friend said, turning to the other girl for additional support.
The other girl gave her endorsement. "Yeah, yeah."
"Really? Thanks!"
I heard their whole heartwarming exchange. Wonderful. Just like the sort of beautiful friendship you see before the start of a marathon.
…I felt like I'd seen this exact same exchange a moment ago, too. What is this, déjà vu? Or is it a copypasta? But even if it's not, man, those types always have the same conversation, every time. It's like, the only thing that's different is the topic and the vocabulary, and then at the end, they compliment each other, and it's over. It looked fun.
"Are we all about done?" Meguri's voice was surprisingly audible and clear. I'd call it fluffy-wuffy, or fuzzy-wuzzy, or wanyaka-pappa yunpappa. Maybe that was why it so easily grabbed hold of the fringes of your attention. Unlike how they would've reacted if she had yelled, everyone naturally and calmly turned their heads to face her. Maybe it wasn't a skill she'd cultivated but rather part of her very nature.
"Has everyone basically made up their minds? Then, Sagami, you take it from here."
"Huh? Me?"
"Yep. I think everything from this point on is going to be the job of the committee chair."
"Okay…"
Meguri waved Sagami over, like Come on, come on!
Sagami sat down among the student council, almost disappearing into their midst. "W-well then, let's decide…" Her voice was barely above a whisper, but in the silence, we could hear her fine.
But this wasn't a stable sort of quiet.
It was the acute, dangerous silence used to attack a foreign body.
It stung awfully. Even one snicker would be enough to set off a storm of harsh criticism and abuse. Sagami had gone from enjoying herself in conversation to an entirely different person.
An individual cut off is so frail.
"First…then…is there anyone who wants to do Publicity and Advertisement…?" Her voice was wilting gradually. No one raised their hands.
"Okay, so, Publicity and Advertisement. You can go to lots of different places! You might even be able to go on TV and radio, too, you know?" Meguri's inviting remarks swayed my heart for an instant. If we're talking about television in Chiba, then first on the list is Chiba TV, and if we're talking radio, then it's Bay FM. That "Fight! Fight! Chiba!" song that occasionally plays on Chiba TV is so famous, if someone told me I could meet Jaguar at the station, I would have gone for Publicity and Advertisement without a moment's hesitation.
However, I probably wouldn't, so I refrained. By the way, I don't mean the one from Pyu to Fuku, but the one who's the hero of Chiba.
I don't know if Meguri's mysterious helping hand worked or not, but her timely assistance finally got the group into motion. A few hands rose, and once we'd checked off the number of people and their names, we moved on to deciding the next roles.
"Th-then…Volunteer Management," said Sagami. The volunteers are the stars of the cultural festival, so maybe that's why hands shot up so fast. Clearly, more than Sagami had predicted. "U-uh…" She was stuck.
Meguri promptly stepped in. "That's too many! Too many! Rockpaper-scissors, okay?" Meguri's forehead was sparkling, glittering with eagerness as the Megu-Megu rock-paper-scissors began.
Though her unique brand of enthusiasm didn't really make sense to me, Meguri managed each item on the agenda, one after the other. Either she just had more experience with this, or it was just in her nature, since she managed every bump in the road smoothly.
From first to last, each committee member's role was decided in the same manner. Though Meguri may not have seemed so dependable at first glance, she was the president of the student council after all.
Thanks to her abilities, the roles were divided up reasonably. By the way, I was neatly installed in "Records and Miscellaneous."
Perhaps because that category had been decided last, or maybe because everyone had thought the same thing, it was where proactivity went to die.
It was painful when everyone got together with their sections to introduce themselves.
"Um, so what are we going to do?"
"Self-introductions…and stuff?"
"Are we going to do that?"
"Sure."
"…"
"…"
"Um, who'll start?"
"Oh, I'll go, then."
And so it went. The conversation was so sporadic I started wondering if I was in a field of mushrooms.
Yukinoshita was also among us, as if this were the obvious choice.
Once we finished our self-introductions (which only consisted of our names and which class we were in), the long-awaited rock-paperscissors match to decide section head began. This match was decidedly pessimistic, as whoever lost would be taking up the role, so this tournament had a wholly different vibe than the previous one to narrow down volunteers.
First, we quarreled about whether to throw down a rock before beginning, then we had our match, and thus it was decided that someone-or-other in third year would be the section head before we promptly dispersed.
"Thanks for your hard work." We all said the formal farewell and scattered our separate ways. Yukinoshita took the lead and left first. I inserted myself into the flow out the door, too, but right when I was about to leave the conference room…
Minami Sagami was in the corner of the conference room, dejected. She must have been mulling over how her first task as the committee chair hadn't really gone well. Beside her were her two friends and, for some reason, Miss Hiratsuka and Meguri as well. They must have been discussing future meetings.
When I passed by them, for an instant, Miss Hiratsuka's eyes met with mine. A wink flew at me with a smack , and she waved a hand. Bye-bye.
…I'm leaving now.
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.