They say humans are empathetic by nature. It's like how when you see someone yawning, you catch the yawn, too. Enthusiasm, fanaticism, and hatred are especially contagious. It's the foundation of solicitations for pyramid schemes or religion. Everyone wants to be a part of something. You just have to propagate the shared perception that it's cool to work your ass off, just like any dogma or sermon.
Social pressure is a numbers game.
Popularity is a numbers game.
War is a numbers game.
If you can create a mood that herds those numbers onto the bandwagon, you've basically won. These days, it's fads that make the world go round. Victory or defeat is not determined by the charismatic dictator but by the absolute majority—or the promise that will win that majority.
So the rest is easy.
If you've got your absolute loser hikitanikun@not-trying, then public opinion will naturally trend in the opposite direction. The people working hard are the cool ones. Hikitani's the one slacking off. As long as you've got those labels, everyone will buckle down, even if that's not what they want.
Haruno chuckled and looked down at me. "Well, their enemy is a bit of a small fry, though." Leave me alone.
"But they're showing some excitement for the festival now."
"That's just making more work for me, though." The unspoken meaning was So I'd rather you not interfere, but she playfully ignored my drift.
"That's fine. A villain like you actually working will make them want to challenge you. Besides, you'll never grow without a proper enemy. Conflict just stimulates growth!" Haruno closed her eyes and swung her finger around as she began her commentary. Eugh. It was mildly obnoxious.
But halfway through her playful gesture, her eyes opened and her gaze slid toward Yukinoshita.
A groundless, ridiculous idea occurred to me at that. "Um, so does that mean…?"
Her soft fingertip kept the words from passing my lips. "I hate perceptive kids, you know?"
If the fastest way for a person to grow was for them to have an enemy… Then maybe Haruno is acting like this so she can stay her enemy, I thought, although I had no proof at all of that.
Her finger still gently pressed to my lips, Haruno smiled. "Just kidding." Her smile was perfect and flawless. For a moment there, I almost fell for it.
I was frozen speechless when behind me someone snapped, "Miscellaneous, stay on task." Thump, thump, thump, and now there were stacks of documents in front of me. When I raised my head, I saw Yukinoshita and an icy glare. "Dispose of these. They're all related to the slogan revision. And the meeting records…you're working on now, I see…" Yukinoshita brought a hand to her mouth and raised her head. "Then…send an e-mail notifying all parties about the slogan change."
"Hey, hold on, you clearly just came up with that." She totally just said, "Then…" What else could that mean? Was she about to say "thenceforth" instead?
"I do sometimes get spur-of-the-moment ideas. The ability to make organic connections is the foundation of intelligence after all. Oh, and while you're at it, integrate the plan application documents and upload them to the server."
Hey, that didn't really make sense. What a crappy excuse. And wait, she just tossed more on my pile, didn't she? Doesn't "while you're at it" indicate the new task is related to what you're already doing? Am I crazy?
I shot her a dubious look, but her glare won. "Anyway, please do that by the end of the day." "There's no way…"
Dealing with Yukinoshita now made me suspect that my previous work environment point had been on the mild side. In fact, if this were a part-time job, this would be about the time I'd flake out. I'd turn off my cell phone and tell my mom we could afford to leave the landline unplugged for a while.
But it was school, so I couldn't quit…
As I was busy despairing, Haruno raised a hand and waved broadly for her sister's attention. "Should I work on that, too?"
"You can leave and get out of our way."
The point-blank barb made Haruno's eyes water. "Ouch! That's so mean, Yukino-chan! …Well, I have the time, so I'll do it anyway. Give me half, Hikigaya." Haruno reached out for a stack of paper.
Yukinoshita put her hand to her temple and breathed a deep sigh. "…Agh. I'm going to review the budget, so if you absolutely must do something, then make that your task."
"Hmm? Heh-heh… Okay! " Just for an instant, Haruno smiled an ominous smile, but she immediately turned on the energy again, prodding Yukinoshita's back. They must have been going to start up the budget meeting.
Haruno was flitting from task to task, too. Doubtless, she was busy with all sorts of things, but she would show up fairly frequently, and I suspected it was for more than practice with her group. I highly doubted she had that much free time. Though I didn't even have to wonder about her ulterior motive. Rather, it was more constructive to think about tackling the work in front of me.
Heh-heh. They're called corporate slaves because they don't disobey…
With every day closer to the cultural festival, Soubu High school was heating up despite the falling temperature. Class 2-F was abuzz straight from morning. The festival was tomorrow, and we'd spent the whole day preparing.
We'd put the desks together in rows to make a stage. Under the direction of the class rep, Oda or Tahara or somebody put together the plywood-and-cardboard set. Then the trio of Tobe, Yamato, and Ooka the Virgin heaved and hoed and hauled in an airplane set piece constructed with a hell of a lot of heart and soul.
Headphones on, Kawasaki poked the costumes here and there to adjust them, while Miura and Yuigahama decorated with red artificial flowers, chatting all the while. As they started running low, the girls began making more. You know what I'm talking about—the ones you make by folding up five sheets of tissue paper in layers, then tying them off with a rubber band and peeling out the petals one by one. Those things. They always have them at cultural festivals. Totsuka and Hayama were practicing their lines together.
As for me, I had nothing in particular to do, so I was sitting at the corner of the stage in an empty daze.
"Tonight…you can't come," said the delicate Prince.
The Narrator encouraged him, revealing his true emotions. "We'll always be together."
Even though I knew it was just a play, my teeth were grating and grinding… Damn it, if I'd known I'd feel like this, I would've starred in that play. Ngh, I couldn't stand to look straight at them…
I tore my eyes away and found Ebina, the super-producer. The smile on her face was frighteningly greasy. "Get on out there, you!"
Are you from a certain Somebody & Associates? Please don't create an Ebina & Associates… "Uh, I have the festival committee, so…," I replied.
Ebina bopped me on the shoulder with a rolled-up script. "Oh, that's too bad. I think you as the Narrator and Hayato as the Prince would've made a good ship, though. Watching their practice just now from the wings has stoked your flames of jealousy… Ah! Are you going to swoop in and steal him away?! Hnghhlerk!" Blood shot out of her nose then in a disgusting arc.
You're scaring me, seriously.
"Aw, she's started up again. Come on, Ebina, blow. Blow your nose." Miura noticed the outburst and came over with some of the tissue paper for the fake flowers, holding it up to Ebina's face. I've heard you shouldn't do that when you have a nosebleed, though.
I observed the class for a while, then stood up and left.
All the classrooms along my way were filled with activity.
It would no doubt be less than comfortable for a loner. If the school day were over, nobody would have noticed if I slipped away—or at least they would have pretended so. But since we'd started up first thing in the morning, I wouldn't be able to just vanish.
I could either inconspicuously wait for instructions or just stare off into space. Usually, I would have done exactly that, but this year, I was on the Cultural Festival Committee.
I descended the staircase, turned the hallway, and continued down the already familiar route.
The classrooms weren't the only sources of building energy. It was the same with the cultural committee. When I arrived at the conference room, it was a hive of activity, too, and everyone seemed to be in a hurry. The door was usually kept shut, but that day, it seemed to be open the whole time.
Inside was Yukinoshita, briskly managing one thing or another. Sagami was beside her, too, sitting like a doll. Haruno was spinning around in a chair during a discussion with Meguri. Haruno really had too much time on her hands. Not that I cared.
I went into the conference room to check the shift schedule for my sector for the next two days as an endless stream of people burst in. "Vice-chair. The test upload on the website is complete."
"Understood. Sagami, your approval," Yukinoshita said, but even as she did, she was checking it herself.
"Yeah, it's okay," said Sagami.
"All right, then please upload it onto the live server." With each item checked off the list, another was added.
"Yukinoshita, there isn't enough equipment for the volunteers!"
"Volunteer Management, negotiate with the volunteer representative. Please defer to the judgment of the equipment managers for the loans and just send the report back to me," Yukinoshita instructed immediately, before remembering the girl sitting beside her. "Sagami, if there are no particular issues, I think we can move this along."
"Oh yeah. I think that's fine."
Some things proceeded smoothly, while others hit a few bumps in the road. But Yukinoshita fielded each and every matter regardless, and the gears of the Cultural Festival Committee were spinning smoothly. Largely due to her.
"The volunteers' rehearsals are running late, so we'll be shifting their rehearsal time until after the opening ceremony. Keep that in mind." She took a pause for breath after giving the instructions.
Haruno had crept up behind her and swept her up in a tight hug.
"That's my Yukino-chan!"
"Get off me, get away from me, and get out." Yukinoshita brushed her off and turned to her computer.
Haruno pulled away from Yukinoshita and gently put a hand on her shoulder. "You really are doing so well, Yuki. It's just like back when I was committee chair."
"Yes, it really is. It's thanks to you, Yukinoshita," Meguri said, singing her praises, too.
"I'm really not doing all that much…" Yukinoshita began typing louder, perhaps to hide her embarrassment.
"That's not true. Your presence here has been such a big help," said Meguri, and every one of the executives there nodded in agreement. When times had gotten toughest, they'd all been the ones pulling this event together. They must have felt the impact of Yukinoshita's work particularly keenly.
But one of the administrators seemed a little tense. Sagami was unable to speak, and her smile was a mask.
"This really is what a cultural committee should be! Man, I hope you guys feel accomplished!" said Haruno, and everyone nodded. They were filled with satisfaction, aware that they were living up to their duty as members of the Cultural Festival Committee.
That was why nobody sensed the additional implications. She was repudiating what the cultural committee had been until recently, as well as criticizing Sagami as a leader. Most likely, the only people to notice would be the mean-spirited types and those who felt guilty.
Sagami crumpled a printout on the table into a ball.
Beside her, Haruno was smiling. "Looking forward to tomorrow! …Right?" For just an instant, Haruno's gaze flicked toward me. I still couldn't divine what future those dark eyes saw.
It wouldn't be long before the curtain rose on the carnival of unbridled enthusiasm, youth, lies, and pretense. Finally, the cultural festival was about to arrive.
7 This is the moment Soubu High School is festivaling hardest.
The commotion of the entire student body filled the darkness. Each individual word held meaning, but the multitude of overlapping voices made them all gibberish.
The gym had been meticulously weather-stripped so as to prevent any gaps in the blackout curtains. The only sources of light were weak ones like cell phones and the emergency exit sign, and they only illuminated the palm of your hand at most.
It was pitch-black, and everything was dim.
In the darkness of that moment, we were all one.
Under the sun, the light shines on your differences, underscoring what hopelessly divergent creatures you are. You can't help but notice. Now, the blurred outlines of the crowd made the line between self and other ambiguous.
Of course. It makes sense why they lower the lights before events. Rending the darkness asunder by turning the spotlight to an individual is to imply that one person is distinct from the rest of the crowd. Therefore, the one standing there should be special.
One by one, the students' voices fell silent.
The clock in my hand said it was 9:57.
It was just about time. I pushed the button on my headset to connect it. There would be a bit of lag until the mike picked up my voice, so I waited about two seconds, then began talking. "—Three minutes to curtain rise. Three minutes to curtain rise."
Not even a few seconds later, a burst of static crackled through the earphones. "—This is Yukinoshita. Notifying all personnel.
Proceeding on time. If there are any issues, inform me immediately," she finished, her voice calm, and then the communication cut off with another crackle.
Bursts of noise ran through the line, one after another. "—Lighting here. No issues."
"—This is the PA, and no problems here."
"—Backstage, the cast is a little behind with prep. But it looks like they'll make it to stage on time."
The various departments made contact. Frankly, I couldn't keep track of it all.
I wasn't even sure about my own role. Records and Miscellaneous had been assigned a lot of work during the festival. Stage-related odd jobs during the opening and ending ceremonies were also a part of that category. My job there that day was essentially to keep time, simply telling the stage crew when it was time to do something and when they were a little ahead of schedule. If it's the higher-ups giving orders, you can't refuse after all.
Yukinoshita, the control tower, synthesized the information coming in from each section. "—Roger. All stand by until the cue."
In the stage wings, I was having a staring contest with the clock. With each second that ticked by, the silence swelled.
I knew if I peeked through the tiny window into the gym, there would be a crowd of students there. But it was so dark, it just seemed like a single massive creature squirming around. For comparison, think Nyarlathotep. The grotesque god with a thousand faces… Wait, that's not right. Was it Mil Máscaras who had a thousand faces? Well, whatever.
At one minute left to curtain rise, the gym became a sea of silence. Everyone forgot to whisper or murmur, lost in the same moment.
I pressed the button on my headset. "—Ten more seconds." I kept my finger on the button.
"Nine." My eyes were fixed on the clock.
"Eight." I stopped inhaling.
"Seven." Between moments, I exhaled.
"Six."
Then in the instant before I took a breath—
"Five more seconds."
—someone stole my countdown.
"Four." The voice was incredibly calm. Cold, even.
"Three."
Then the voice counting down went silent, and all that remained was someone marking "two" with their fingers.
Yukinoshita was on the second floor above the stage wings, watching us from the PA room window.
And then, in the deafening silence, I mentally finished the count with a one. That moment, light burst out on the stage bright enough to blind me.
"Are you all getting cultural?!" Meguri suddenly appeared on stage.
The audience replied with a roar. "YEAAAAAAH!"
"Chiba is famous for dancing and…?"
"FESTIVAAAAALS!"
The slogan actually caught on?
"So if you're an idiot like me, you've got to dance…"
"SING A SONG!" Meguri's baffling call-and-response whipped up all the students into a frenzy. An instant later, dance music was blaring.
The opening act had begun, a collaboration between the dance association and the cheerleading team. The audience was still riding the wave of enthusiasm after Meguri's intro, raising their hands in a semijoking dance.
…Eugh. Our school is so dumb. What the hell is "getting cultural"? I'm not doing that.
But I couldn't just zone out and watch. Work, work…
"—This is the PA. Now finishing up the song" came in the communication from the PA.
"—Roger. Chair Sagami, stand by," Yukinoshita notified us as the supervisor.
The cue must have reached Meguri during her presentation as well. The dance team exited stage right into the wings, and Meguri stood
at stage left. "Next is a message from our Cultural Festival Committee chair."
Sagami stepped toward center stage, obviously tense. Over a thousand pairs of eyes were focused on her. Before she had even reached the tape indicating the middle of the stage, she had stopped. Her hands were shaking around the wireless mike. Her stiff arms finally rose, and she started to speak.
Right then…
…a sharp screech of feedback pierced our ears. The timing was so perfect, the audience burst into uproarious laughter.
From the outside, you could tell the reaction wasn't malicious. I mean, I've been on the receiving end of scornful laughter pretty much my whole life, so I can distinguish types of laughter based on experience. But I doubt Sagami, frozen alone on stage, enduring the anxiety and isolation, would be able to tell that. Even once the ringing had faded, she was still silent.
This probably made Meguri nervous, as she picked up a mike and came in as backup. "…Well then, let's try that again! Committee Chair, go right ahead!"
The sound of Meguri's voice seemed to reboot Sagami. She opened up the cue cards she'd been tightly gripping the whole time. Her flustered fingers tangled, and the rustle of a falling card invited more laughter from the crowd. Burning crimson, Sagami picked it up, and a few members of the audience tossed encouraging remarks her way: "You can do it!" They probably didn't mean anything bad by it. But I doubted it would do much to help. When someone is that miserable, there's nothing you can say to them. All they want is for you to be as inconspicuous and silent as an inanimate object. They want to be left alone, like a rock by the roadside.
Though Sagami's opening remarks were all written on the cue cards, of course, she fumbled and stuttered.
Since this was already taking more time than planned, as the timekeeper, I was spinning my arm in an attempt to move things along. But Sagami was so freaked out, she didn't even notice. "—Hikigaya, give her the sign to finish early." With a crackle of noise, Yukinoshita's voice reached me through the earphones. I glanced up at the PA room on the second floor to see her looking down at me, arms folded.
"—I've been giving it. It looks like she can't see, though."
"—I see… I suppose it's my mistake for selecting you."
"—Are you making fun of me for being hard to notice?"
"—Oh, no, that's not what I'm saying at all. Anyway, where have you been all this time? Are you in the audience?"
"You're definitely mocking me. Come on, I know you can see me." I interrupted the tail end of her remark with my reply. The headset might not have picked up the first part of my reply.
"—Um, Vice-chair. We can all hear you…," someone hesitantly reminded us over the headset.
…Oh yeah. Everyone could hear everyone else on the headsets. I was just a little mortified.
After one of the other cultural committee members had pointed that out, there were a few seconds of silence before another burst of crackling. "—We're advancing the schedule. All of you, move things ahead," Yukinoshita said, and then communication cut off.
Finally, the committee chair finished her comments for the opening ceremony, and we moved on to the next event.
With a start like that, I could see a bumpy road ahead of us.
Once the opening ceremony was done, the cultural festival finally got started for real. It was a two-day event, but it was only open to the public on the second day. The first day was just for the school.
This would be my second festival experience here, and I think it was an extremely typical one, with nothing special worth mentioning. Each class had some sort of presentation, the arts clubs held recitals or exhibitions, and those who wanted to volunteer put together bands. Perhaps it was a symptom of the times, but we weren't allowed to do any real cooking for food and drinks, so only readymade items were on sale. Staying overnight at school beforehand to prepare was also forbidden.
But it was still a significant event that people got genuinely excited for. It wasn't about scale or quality. The school enjoyed the cultural festival more as a symbol, as a break from the mundane.
That's what they do.
The festival fervor permeated my own classroom, too. Already, the barker wars had begun, making it difficult to even squeeze through the halls. Groups handing out flyers and pamphlets paraded along in cosplay that looked like they'd bought it from a discount retailer. Ugh, obnoxious.
Once the opening ceremony cleanup was done, I came back to the classroom to find a flurry of noise and activity. They were in the home stretch before the big performance.
"Makeup! What are you doing?! That greasepaint is too thin!" Ebina roared out.
Meanwhile, Miura was going around talking to each and every person present.
"What're you all nervous for? You're killing me here. I'm, like, seriously laughing my ass off. I mean, everyone's all here to see Hayato anyway. There's not even any point in getting so worked up, right?" It was a mean thing to say, but it did seem like it would make them less nervous.
Looking around at my classmates, I saw they were all working hard to make sure to complete their work. I figured this past month and a half had strengthened all their relationships. They might laugh, they might cry, they might even yell or nearly come to blows, but even so, they'd come to realize one another's true feelings and finally become one…I guess. I wasn't a part of that, so I have no idea.
I had no tasks at the moment, so I loitered around the entrance to the classroom, muttering "I see, hmm…" as if I were working.
"You've been pretending to be busy for a while now. Nothing to do?" At a question befitting a real supervisor, I turned around to see a supervisor indeed, or rather, our cultural festival boss, Ebina. "If you're free, then can I ask you to do reception? Or are you going to get on out there?"
Nope, nope. I replied with a shake of the head.
"All right, reception, then. Tell guests about the performance time. All you've got to do is tell them that, if anyone asks."
"Uh, but I don't even know when it is, though."
"It'll be fine. It's posted by the entrance. Really, you just need to be there 'cause it's lame if no one's outside. You just have to sit there. We're counting on you."
For real? I just have to sit there? What kind of dream job is this? I'd like to take advantage of this experience to find employment of this sort in the future.
I accepted her offer and left the classroom to see that there was indeed a long, folded-up table and two or three folding chairs sitting there near the door. Hmm. Guess I'll set this up, at least.
The long table rattled as I extended the legs, the chairs snapped into place, and setup was done. Despairingly cool! Maybe this is part of being a boy, but I love transforming things like these. I like disassembling them and stuff, too. During class, I'll unconsciously take apart my ballpoint pen and then put it back together again.
On the wall was the poster with the performance schedule written in large font. If I sat right next to it, I doubted anyone would go to the trouble of asking me about it.
It was about five minutes until the doors would open. As I stared off into space, the commotion in classroom 2-F got even louder. I peeked in just a bit, figuring something must have happened.
"All right! Time for a huddle!" said Tobe.
Everyone was like, "Huh?" and "Seriously?" but they started forming a circle anyway. If this were recess, they'd be about to start a game.
"We're never gonna get things started unless Ebina takes the lead!" he insisted. "Come on, over here, over here! Come to the middle!"
You're all in a circle, so there isn't really a more prominent position.
Or so I thought, but Tobe was pointing to the spot beside himself. He'd found a legitimate way to position himself so that he and Ebina would have their arms around each other's shoulders. Not bad, Tobe. Quite the strategist.
As if in support of his plotting, Miura pulled Ebina in by the arm. "C'mon, Ebina. Go into the middle." And then she shoved Ebina into the actual middle. The center of the circle. With everyone else around her. Tobe was about to cry.
Ebina spun to look at everyone, and then her gaze stopped on one person. Standing alone in a corner of the classroom was Kawasaki.
Ebina gave her a broad smile and called her over. "Come on. You too, Kawasaki."
"M-me? I-I'm fine…"
"There you go again. You made the costumes, so you've got to take responsibility for that."
"Responsibility…? You said you'd take responsibility." But even as Kawasaki grumbled, her feet were carrying her into the huddle.
Once everyone but me had assembled, Yuigahama turned to glance at me. I smiled back at her and shook my head. She frowned, a little unhappy.
It was fine, really. When you haven't actually done anything, it's way more uncomfortable and awkward to join in. If I couldn't stand there with confidence, it was best if I didn't participate. I mean, Sagami was looking pretty ashamed herself after all.
Indeed, her expression as she stood in the huddle was not very cheerful. Her recent failure would probably stick with her for a while, but even more than that, I think she was bothered by her own low participation.
People with a habit of assigning ranks end up doing it to everyone. That was why Sagami was considering her own rank right then. She was a ways away from Miura and Hayama's group, but she wasn't directly in front of them, either, probably staying out of their line of sight. She was rather off to the side, which I think was an expression of how she felt her rank was right then. The psychological distance was embodied in physical distance.
By that measure, Ebina occupied the center of the group and the center of the cultural festival. When Ebina called out, everyone responded.
Watching the complete huddle from the outside was surprisingly not so bad.
The classroom was surrounded by blackout curtains and jam-packed like a can of sardines.
Ebina judged that they probably wouldn't be able to fit in any more guests, so she fired off instructions to hang the FULL HOUSE sign on the door. Once I'd done so, I moved the reception table in front of the door to cut off anyone else who wanted to get in.
The door was left open just a crack for ventilation, and I peeked in.
Finally, the curtain rose on stage. The performance began with a monologue from the Narrator, played by Hayama. As the spotlight shone down on him, the audience bubbled up momentarily. It sounded like many of Hayama's friends and fans had descended upon us.
The set consisted of an airplane with a desert in the background. The pictures drawn by the Narrator were played by boys in full-body costumes, like mascots. Two of them represented the illustration of a boa constrictor wrapping around its prey by tangling together with each other. The audience roared with laughter at the silly interpretation.
Then…
"If you please—draw me a sheep." Totsuka's line sounded from offstage.
"Huh? What?" Hayama hadn't managed to pick up the quiet, whispery request.
So once more, the Prince repeated, "Draw me a sheep." Then the spotlight struck Totsuka, standing near the edge of the stage. His adorable clothing and lovable visage sent the audience into another tizzy.
And so the two met, and the story proceeded smoothly from there.
When the Prince recounted the tale of the Rose on his planet, a boy appeared in a green full-body tights suit with a red shampoo hat on his head, talking with an effeminate lisp. Everything after that was over-the-top, too. All the flashbacks to the various planets the Prince had visited were basically visual comedy gags.
The blustering King, so desperate to maintain his authority, was wrapped in layer upon layer of fancy carpets a bunch of the students had brought from their homes. Yamato was sweating buckets.
The Vain Man, who demanded reverence and recognition, was covered head to toe in aluminum foil. Tobe was so sparkly he was hard to look at.
The Drunkard, who drank to forget the shame of his addiction, was surrounded with sake bottles and boxes for high-alcohol-content liquor, as if to say, Take that! Oda or Tahara or whoever it was must have been nervous, because he was as bright red as a real drunk.
The Businessman recited numbers and yelled out, "Listen, I'm a very important person!" The class rep actually cut a fine figure in a suit. Perhaps this was the fruit of Ebina's direction.
The Lamplighter, bound by the rules to light the lamps and extinguish them again, was wearing dirty overalls made to look sooty. His role of spinning round and round the lamp was perhaps somewhat fitting for a complaisant weather vane like Ooka.
Maps and globes surrounded the ignorant Geographer, who recorded what explorers taught him without ever taking a step outside his own study. Oda or Tahara or whoever it was reading them looked fairly scholarly.
Everyone had contributed their opinions for the creation of these costumes (probably), Kawasaki had worked hard on them (surely), and the audience seemed to find them hilarious (yay).
And then the play got to the part when the Prince leaves the earth.
He'd arrived in the desert, met a snake, seen many roses, and realized that what he'd had was truly common and nothing special at all.
I could hear sniffling in the audience at Totsuka's mournful delivery. Totsuka was so precious…er, rather, the prince was so piteous, I wanted to give him a hug right that instant.
That was when a man in a fur coat and a fox mask appeared.
—Oh, this is my favorite scene.
The prince offered the Fox an invitation. "Come play with me. I am so unhappy," Totsuka said sadly, his face downcast. So good, gets me right here. By the way, the first draft of the line in Ebina's script was Why don't we just do it? Seriously, what was that woman thinking?
The Fox replied to the Prince, "I cannot play with you… I am not tamed."
I love that line: I am not tamed. It's such a simple and realistic description of the act of becoming friends.
Making friends is, in fact, a lot like being tamed by a variety of things: the person themselves or the social atmosphere that tells you to get along with everyone and not rock the boat. Then your life and even your heart are tamed. Your fangs are removed, your claws broken, your thorns pulled out. You treat everyone carefully, like something swollen, so as not to wound or be wounded. I like the expression because it's kind of taking a dig at such "friendships."
As I was mulling over these thoughts, the scene continued.
"First, you will sit down a little distance from me—like that—in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day…" The Prince and the Fox conversed more and more. And so they both tamed each other.
But even so, it came time to part. At the end, the Fox told the Prince a secret. This is probably the most well-known part of The Little Prince.
—What is essential is invisible to the eye.
After parting with the Fox, the Prince once again went to visit various places, and the scene changed back to the desert. The Narrator and the Prince were again searching for a well.
"What makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere it hides a well," said Totsuka, and the audience gave a sigh of lament. This was also a classic line from the book. Many of the people present must have been familiar with it.
In the end, after their hearts touched through many conversations that they themselves touched on at many points in time, it came time for the Narrator and the Prince to part. By the way, in Ebina's original script, they touched lips and bodies, too. That girl, seriously…
"Ah, little prince, dear little prince… I love to hear that laughter…" Hayama's line got all the women excited. If I recorded that on mp3 and distributed it, I could make a killing.
"We'll be together forever…" Hayama's next line turned the audience into a sea of satisfied sighs. That's it—I'll make a Hayama pillow talk CD. And it'll come with a body pillow. I've got a hunch this'll be big business.
Then finally, the farewell scene came.
Bitten by the Snake, the Prince fell without a sound. Totsuka's fragile performance, like he was about to vanish, made the audience hold their collective breaths.
The screen turned black.
A single spotlight hit Hayama, and the Narrator's monologue brought the final scene to a close.
Then the audience exploded in thunderous applause. The curtain closed on the memorable first production of The Little Prince: The Musical, a massively successful, sold-out show.
But that wasn't a musical, was it? It was just a play… There wasn't any singing or dancing.
When the performance was on break, I closed the classroom doors.
It seemed my role also meant staying behind to watch things, so while my classmates were taking their breaks or going out to see the other classes' plays, I was sitting on the folding chair by the entrance.
I'd have to be walking all over the place the whole next day as a part of my recording and miscellaneous tasks for the cultural committee, and the first day was the only time I'd have to participate in the class stuff. I hadn't been able to join in the preparations for this, and I couldn't help run the event on the second day, either, so I was stuck there with no way out for the whole day. In fact, if I could call this my participation in the class play, I'd even have liked to thank my classmates for coming up with and approving this role for me.
Well, not many people out there would go to such lengths for me, so I had a good idea of who had come up with this.
"Hey." A plastic bag thunked down on the table, and I looked up to see Yuigahama. I unfolded a chair that was still leaning against the wall, and she took a seat on it with a little oof.
Are you an old lady or what?
"How was it?" she asked.
"I'd say it was pretty good. The audience enjoyed it."
Leaving aside its quality as a contribution to the dramatic arts, the audience actually had seemed pretty into it. I don't know if it met super-producer Ebina's expectations, but I think it had worked fine as entertainment focusing more on humor, as Tobe had proposed.
And as a cultural festival play put on by high school students, there was really nothing to complain about. And also, though I wouldn't call it favoritism, exactly, I think they were able to take full advantage of the fun that comes from knowing the performers by casting people with a broad circle of acquaintances, like Hayama, Tobe, and Ooka.
There's an appeal to seeing someone you're normally friendly with play a completely different character, as well as catching glimpses of their real personality, and these elements bring about a completely different sort of enjoyment compared with your standard entertainment. I could indeed say that musical was good, in those respects. Also, above all, Totsuka was cute.
"Yeah, 'cause everyone put a lot of work into it," Yuigahama said while arching her back in a stretch with a "Hnn!" I could tell just how much effort all this had taken from the emotion behind her words.
Thanks for all your hard work, seriously. But…more importantly, when you arch your back in that T-shirt, it draws my attention to your chest and belly button, so I'd kinda like you to not. "Well, I guess. Maybe you were all working a lot. But I wasn't there, so I don't really know."
"You were busy with the committee. You couldn't join in with the class stuff, so there's no helping that. U-um…are you bothered about being left out of the huddle?" Yuigahama touched her index fingers together, looking at me with upturned eyes. It was a habit of hers, something she did when she was hesitant about asking something. Yet again, she was worrying herself about things that didn't matter.
"Aw, no way. And, like, I didn't even do anything, so it would've been wrong for me to join in." Regardless, I'd made her concerned for me, so I answered her with uncharacteristic honesty.
Then she breathed a short sigh that sounded like an exasperated chuckle. "I knew you'd say that."
"How?" It's kinda embarrassing when you read my mind like that. Stop it.
Yuigahama flopped back into the chair, and it made a bashful kyeep! "Y'know, Hikki, you're serious about the weirdest stuff. I can tell by looking at you."
"You're looking…?"
Her chair gave a shocked ack! I looked over to see that Yuigahama was half standing, waving her hands violently in front of her chest. "Ah, no, actually, forget that. I'm not. I'm averting my eyes pretty hard."
"Um, well, you can if you want to, though…" Reflexively, I ended up scratching roughly at my head. Both of us suddenly fell silent.
Our silence made the noise of the classes to either side of us sound especially loud. Both Classes E and F seemed to be quite popular. Class E in particular. It had a roller coaster or something, and their line was very long. A few people were whining about having to wait their turn, and I could tell the students from Class E were struggling.
It's funny. Lines beget lines. And this principle isn't just limited to lines. Whenever something's selling, its popularity becomes another form of advertising, and it sells even more. Class E was no exception to this rule, and even more people were joining the rear of the crowd.
"Whoa, that looks like a handful," Yuigahama murmured.
"I dunno if they're gonna be able to manage all that, at this rate," I agreed. From what I could see, Class E was understaffed, as they clearly couldn't control all their guests. It was only a matter of time before the hallway would be blocked.
And then it happened—the shrill tweet of a whistle. When I looked toward the sound, I found Meguri. "Handle this, guys," she said. And from thin air, student council members shuffled into existence, and in the blink of an eye, they began to organize the line, while some of the people at the back were shunted off somewhere.
Are you guys Comiket staff or what?
Yukinoshita was among the newcomers. "Is the representative for Class E here?" She immediately called for their rep, asked about the situation, and discussed how to manage it.
"Yukinon is so cool…"
"Well, the kids in Class E are clearly scared of her, though." From where we sat, she was just the same old Yukinoshita, but for someone who didn't interact with her much, her cold, intimidating aura had to be fear itself.
"She's cheered up a bit, though, huh?" Yuigahama remarked.
"…Yeah."
Once Yukinoshita was done dealing with the matter, she breathed a small sigh. Then she lifted her head and glanced at us for an instant. But then she immediately averted her eyes again and strode briskly away. She must have had something else to handle next.
As we watched her go, I said to Yuigahama beside me, "Hey, can I ask you something?"
"Hmm? What?" she replied, without turning to look at me. She was resting her chin in her hands, elbows on the table.
"When we went to Yukinoshita's place, did you talk about anything?" I asked.
Yuigahama hmm'd and considered a little, then opened her mouth.
"Nooothing at all."
"What?" My reaction demanded an explanation.
So Yuigahama started telling me the rest of what had happened that day. "After you left, Hikki, we were hungry, so we ate together and watched some DVDs, and then I went home… So she didn't say anything you'd want to know, Hikki." The last sentence seemed rather cold.
"Oh…it's not like there's anything I'd want to know anyway."
"Really? I wanted to know."
"So then why—?" I was about to ask why she hadn't asked, then, but looking at her profile, my voice withered. She was so focused on the far end of the hallway where Yukinoshita had left, I hesitated to say any more out loud.
"You know, I've decided to wait for her. 'Cause Yukinon will probably try to talk and get closer…so I'll wait."
That was a very Yuigahama-like response.
This was Yuigahama. She always met people halfway. So I was sure she'd wait. And Yukinoshita knew that, too, so she'd try to take that step in and not leave her hanging.
"But if waiting is never going to work with someone, then I'm not going to wait," she said.
"Hmm? Well, yeah, there's no point in waiting for someone hopeless."
That was when Yuigahama smiled just a little. She twisted her head a bit, still leaning on her hands, and gave me a long look.
There was nothing happening in this classroom, so the river of people flowed by at high speed. Students were coming and going, hurrying through the hallway to their new destinations or attempting to bring in more guests. There was no need to differentiate all the individuals from the restless mass, and the commotion was heedless of us, too. In other words, it was background, environmental noise.
That was why I could hear her voice so clearly. She spoke slowly, sounding more mature than usual.
"That's not what I mean. I won't wait… I'll be the one to make the first move."
My heart skipped a beat. It hurt so bad, I thought it would tear me open from the inside.
Looking into Yuigahama's dewy eyes, I was on the verge of parsing what those words meant. But if I were to think about that, I'd probably find myself in deep trouble. And that would most likely lead to mistakes. I've made many of those in my life, but I didn't want to mess this one up, I don't think.
That was why at this point, I still didn't have the words to respond. "Oh…" I gave her a vague, meaningless nonanswer.
She replied with a shy smile. "Uh-huh, yep." I took that shy smile to mean that this conversation was now over. The both of us sighed a little bit and looked away from each other.
That was when the plastic bag on the long table caught my eye. "So anyway, what's with the bag?"
"Oh, I forgot. You haven't had lunch yet, right?" She rustled around in the bag, and then another package arrived, a paper box. Opening it, she pulled out something else from inside. Huh, that's a rather odd matryoshka doll. Or so I thought, but apparently, that was not the case.
It was some kind of bread. A round, chubby loaf of bread.
There was whipped cream layered on top, chocolate sauce drizzle, and colorful chocolate sprinkles. But it was basically bread—round and chubby. Actually, it was just sandwich bread. It wasn't a pastry or anything special, just something you'd describe as plain bread.
But Yuigahama held up the bread à la whipped cream and said proudly: "Look! Honey toast!"
Ohhh…so this was that super-popular honey toast from everyone's favorite, the Karaoke Pasela. What, is this some limited-edition special item? It's not? It's not a special? They're not making deluxe drinks with deluxe coasters to go with it? I'm happy with Karaoke no Tetsujin, too!
I shot Yuigahama a casual look that said I appreciated the gesture, and maybe that was why she sounded a little exasperated when she said, "It's nothing that unusual. There's a Pasela in Chiba, too."
"Oh, I don't go to karaoke much in the first place, so."
Guess this is the quality you get when an amateur makes honey toast. The real thing is definitely better than this. Actually, this is just bread. Seriously. Not gonna put in a bit more effort to erase the breadiness of it? It's bread all over. Totally bread.
"Here we go!" With far too much gusto for serving food, she served me up some on a paper plate. With her bare hands… Not like I minded. I decided to accept the piece of torn-off honey toast.
"So good!" Yuigahama stuffed her cheeks, with a little whipped cream on her face. That blissful expression could only come from someone with a sweet tooth. Watching her, I got the feeling that I could come to like honey toast, too. A little excited, I put it in my mouth.
It's…so hard… The honey hasn't soaked all the way to the middle… There wasn't enough whipped cream, and at a certain point, the density was a form of punishment… And worst of all was Yuigahama's taste for picking this out for lunch.
However, Yuigahama herself seemed to be enraptured. Did anything about this taste good?
"I love the whipped cream!"
Hey… Hey… Was there a need for this to be honey toast, then? And besides, you stole that whipped cream from my part, didn't you? I had mountains of complaints, but in front of Yuigahama's zeal, I couldn't bring myself to say any of them. At the end, she washed her meal down with some tea.
…Okay, well, I guess it's…kinda okay?
Yuigahama seemed to be done eating, and she gently wiped the whipped cream from her mouth with a tissue. Her lips were glossy, shimmering in the light of the sun. I looked away.
Even with both of us going at it, there was a lot of honey toast. I mean, it was a whole loaf of bread…
And as a whole loaf, it must have cost a commensurate price. You might as well call it money toast. "So how much was it?" I asked, pulling out my wallet.
But Yuigahama stopped me with a hand. "Don't worry about it! It's no biggie."
"Come on, I can't accept that."
"Don't worry about it!" she refused stubbornly.
At this rate, I couldn't see this dispute ending soon. "…I do plan to have someone support me financially…but I'm not going to accept charity!"
"Huh? Your sense of pride makes no sense!" Yuigahama groaned, then she paused a moment in thought. Finally, she grumbled quietly, "Agh, Hikki, you're such a pain… All right. Then later, you treat me to
some honey toast…at the Pasela in Chiba."
"You're picking out a place?" My reply was sharp, but I caught her drift. Yet again, I had failed to distance myself from Yuigahama.
I do think we were closer than before. I'm not immature enough to insist on denying it. It was a major factor in the whole episode with the class application documents, too. I could have asked anyone to fill it in for me, but I'd deliberately sought out Yuigahama and chosen her to help.
I, myself, had allowed that. It was easy to rely on Yuigahama.
But.
That was exactly why I had to restrain myself. Uncontrolled, unguided trust is dependence.
I couldn't cling to Yuigahama's kindness. I couldn't take advantage of her gentle heart. Her compassion was like a knife cutting you open, making you worry and suffer, bleeding you dry. I knew that. That was why I couldn't so easily yield to it.
And if her behavior wasn't out of kindness or thoughtfulness but some other feeling, then that goes double. Because then I'd be taking advantage of another person's weakness.
Manage your emotions.
Keep a suitable distance.
So…maybe it's fine to just take one step closer.
A cultural festival is a celebration, and a celebration is a break from the mundane. And because of that change, your value judgments might be a little different from normal. Hey, on a day like today, even I might make a call that's a little suspect.
"Are you…fine with something else?" I asked.
"Yeah, that's fine." She grinned. "So…when'll this be?" There was a strange intensity in her smile.
"U-um, I'm sorry, please let me think about this a little—a lot…" I suddenly found myself acting oddly polite.
Yuigahama huffed out a breath in reply, apparently reluctant to accept my response.
It was still the first day of the festival. But the end was sure to come.
The clock counted out the seconds, telling us that the time we spent then would also eventually end.
8 Beyond, Yukino Yukinoshita has her eye on someone.
We'd reached the second day of the cultural festival.
That day was open to the general public, so neighbors, friends from other schools, and entrance exam hopefuls were pouring in. It being a Saturday, the place was bustling with people on their day off.
Things were different from the first day, which had felt more like a private party and rehearsal, and where many more issues came up. But since all the members of the cultural committee were handling it, there was nothing to worry about even on this heavy-flow second day. We even had side-groove channels and wings.
And thus, I would be doing committee work for the whole day.
Our clientele was quite diverse: We had many middle school kids from the neighborhood, but there were also families with children and fancy madams, local seniors, and kids who were like, I don't really get what this is, but I just kinda showed up!
We were supposed to register all the guests, more or less, but from what I could see, that was largely not happening. Frankly speaking, considering how invisible I was in my class, I suspected I could've gotten in without any check at all. The kids on duty for Health and Sanitation and the male gym teacher had gotten together to set up reception tables in front of both school gates. So I doubted any real weirdos would come in.
As the school started getting congested, my work was to take pictures. My main task for that day was to record each class's presentations and the guests, as well as the general excitement of the cultural festival that year.
So, photography. I'd thought I could just snap some photos of whatever and scratch it off the list, but I was encountering a few roadblocks. As for why, when I began actually taking pictures, people kept on saying, "Um…could you please not take pictures of us?" Ouch… Every time that happened, I'd show them my CULTURAL COMMITTEE: RECORDS armband, and for some reason, I always ended up having to apologize for it.
I'd managed to take a bunch of photos at last when something swooped down on me to slam into my back. "Bro!"
"Oh, Komachi." I turned my head around to see my sister attached to me. When she acts all clingy like that, well, her big brother doesn't feel so bad. Whoo-hoo, my little sister is so cute!
"A hug after so much time apart! I think this could be worth a lot of Komachi points."
"What? Is this Heathrow Airport or something?" All those foreigners hug too much in the airport, in my opinion.
Komachi was being kinda manipulative, so I peeled her off. The ensuing whimpers were even more manipulative.
Though Komachi didn't have school that day, for some reason, she was in her uniform. Speaking of which, why do high school girls always wear their uniforms? Even though it was a weekend for other schools, everyone around was in uniform. Well, not having to pick an outfit is easier, I guess.
Komachi's outfit must have gotten mussed when she'd glomped me, as she was adjusting the collar of her sailor dress. Something about it struck me as weird.
Oh. The other guests had come in groups, but she'd come by herself. So that was it, huh? "Did you come alone?"
"Yeah, I mean, I just came to see you, Bro. That just now was worth a lot of Komachi points, too." Komachi seemed to notice the chilly look I gave her, as she cleared her throat with a deliberate little hem-hem. "Well, to be honest, I just felt shy about inviting friends when everyone's so tense. It's right before entrance exams."
Oh yeah. She was such an idiot I tended to forget, but Komachi was, in fact, coming up to her entrance exams. And Soubu High School was her first choice, too.
Well, it was true that coming to the cultural festival of the school she was applying to might help get her motivated. That must have been part of her reasoning in coming all this way.
She must also have been curious about things in general, because she was glancing all around. "Where are Yui and Yukino?" she asked. "I think Yuigahama's in our classroom. I dunno about Yukinoshita."
"Why aren't you in the classroom? Do you not belong there?" She didn't even seem to care that it was cruel.
How rude. I do have a place I belong. My desk and chair is my native territory. But I belong nowhere else, so while the cultural festival is going on and the desks are removed from their places, I'm a total nomad. A wanderer. "…An aloof, wandering soul needs no place to call his home."
"Whoa, sounds cool," Komachi replied in the flattest monotone ever. "So what're you doing?" "Work…," I replied.
Komachi blinked her eyes, two, three times. "So what're you doing?"
"I said, I'm doing work." Why was she asking me exactly the same question again? I'm gonna write a note that says Komachi needs to listen to what other people say and give it to Mom.
"So what're you doing?"
"Are you a CD? Do you have a scratch? I'll polish you with abrasives. I'm working, seriously."
"My brother is…doing work…," Komachi muttered, deeply impressed. After three repetitions, it finally seemed to sink in. "My brother, who never worked part-time jobs for long and generally flaked out and gave ridiculous excuses and told them Well, my parents are all like, y'know, about exams…is doing work…" Then I saw something sparkling bright in her eyes. "Komachi is so happy… But wait, this is weird. It's like you've gone far away. I'm having mixed feelings."
Hey, I don't know what's up with that parental look, but stop it. It's super-embarrassing, and it's making your big brother feel like he might be able to reform his entire attitude toward his lifestyle and correct his ways to lead a decent life for his family's sake.
In an attempt to shake off Komachi's warm gaze, I steered us back on course. "Well, I mean, yeah, it's work, but it's like a low-ranking gofer position. I'm totally replaceable."
"Oh, that makes sense." She's nodding pretty damn hard there.
In spite of myself, I smiled wryly. "Right? Makes sense to me, too." First Hayama, and then my own little sister said it… I must really look like a lackey. Well…I guess I do. I think I have the eyes of a flunky to a real pirate, or a bandit, or highwayman, if I do say so myself.
Komachi and I strolled together down the hall. She walked a few steps ahead of me through the fairly large crowds, checking out the decorations in the classrooms, the students' outfits, and other things, and she seemed surprised by all the energy. She gave an impressed sigh. "…High school really is kinda different."
"Well, middle school doesn't even have cultural festivals."
"Yeah, yeah, just choir recitals."
That term brought unpleasant memories to mind. How could they be so quick to decide someone wasn't singing? I was singing! Or did they just not know what my voice sounded like 'cause normally I wouldn't ever talk to them? Was that it? If I made a recording of my own voice, would they think it was a ghost?
Suddenly, Komachi's feet stopped. Then she stretched her back in an exaggerated fashion and shaded her eyes with her hand as she peered into the distance. A second later, she folded her arms and fell into thought, hmming. "Komachi's gonna go look at a bunch of stuff now. See ya, Bro," she said, immediately scampering away down the hallway and up a staircase.
I was suddenly abandoned. "Wh-whoa…," I replied like an idiot, though I doubted she could hear me anymore. A girl from another school who was walking by twitched and jumped about fifty centimeters away from me.
She may be my own sister, but she could be mysterious. Komachi knows just how to get along with people, but she actually likes doing stuff on her own more than you'd think. She's a next-generation hybrid loner model. She has the gift unique to younger siblings of learning from her older sibling's failures. Having grown up with a specialist in solitude like me, she has a good understanding of the positives and negatives of lonerdom.
Well, there's a wide variety of sibling relationships out there. Being a younger sister with an older brother like me who will inevitably fall short of most standards might actually lift some of your burden. Comparisons won't hurt you.
But if I were an exceptionally accomplished person, I wonder what Komachi would have thought of me.
Perhaps the reason I'd ended up with that question on my mind was that I found her there ahead of me. Even among the surging crowds, I could pick her out. Yukinoshita was taking her time, slowly examining each and every one of the classrooms. Her eyes were a little warmer than usual.
No matter why or how things got this way, it was thanks to her that this cultural festival was proceeding without a hitch. Yukinoshita had to know that, and I was sure she was proud. I guess that would put a kinder look in your eyes. She'd gotten real results for her diligence.
Yukinoshita's gaze continued on to the next classroom. Then it seemed that I appeared in her field of vision. She seemed a little surprised, and then her gaze quickly flashed cold. Why? Suspicious, she strode straight over toward me. "You're alone today, I see."
"Well, I'm basically always alone, though. Oh, but I was with Komachi until just now."
"Oh, so she's here, too? You're not exploring the festival together?"
"She just kinda ran off. I figure she was being considerate, since I'm on the job now."
"…On the job?" Yukinoshita tilted her head dubiously.
"It's not obvious?"
"That's why I asked," she said nonchalantly.
So it wasn't obvious… Hachiman's a little shocked. Well, now that she mentions it, I'm not working at this very moment… "So anyway, what about you? Work?" I asked.
"Yes, I'm doing inspections."
"Weren't you doing that yesterday, too? Not worried about your class?"
"…I'd rather work than be forced to participate in that," Yukinoshita replied with an extremely dour look.
I'd heard Class J was doing a fashion show or something. Class J, the international curriculum, was over 90 percent girls. If they wanted to have an easy time bringing in guests, they just had to put their good looks front and center. So it was inevitable they'd want to rope in Yukinoshita. Whoa, yeah, she'd hate that. Actually, I'd kinda like to see Yukinoshita forced into fancy clothing, even if she did hate it.
Since Yukinoshita was doing inspections, she constantly had her eye on any number of things, and she came to a halt at one classroom. "…Their presentation. It's not what they wrote on their application." The walls of class 3-B were decorated to look like a cave, and the sign hanging there had an Indiana Jones–ish typeface that read TROLLEY
OLLEY.
"What's their presentation?" I asked.
"You should at least get an understanding of what every class is doing."
That's kind of an extreme demand, Yukinoshita.
She pulled a neatly folded cultural festival pamphlet out of her chest pocket and then offered it to me. I took it without a word and opened it. Okay, the warmth of this pamphlet is getting me a little excited. Please don't let your guard down like this.
To distract myself from my passions of the flesh, I quickly searched to see what Class 3-B was supposed to have on display. Um, 3-B, 3-B…
And there it was. Apparently, the concept was to "show off the decorations and dioramas of the room in a slowly moving trolley."
But from inside we could hear screams ("Eek!") and a furious rattling.
It was clearly a roller coaster… They must have noticed the popularity of Class 2-E's roller coaster the previous day and suddenly changed their concept. These guys were quick to seize an opportunity.
But there was no way the vice-chair would allow that. Immediately, she called for their representative. "Is your class rep here? It looks like your presentation isn't the one described on your application," said Yukinoshita, and immediately, the 3-B girls all blanched.
"Crap!" "They found out it's high-speed!" "J-just make them get on! Just move it along to avoid an inquisition!" As if we'd poked a beehive, the class flew into chaos, and some third-years grabbed both Yukinoshita's arms firmly and tried to drag her into the trolley.
"H-hey!" Resisting, Yukinoshita shot a glance at me, like she wanted me to save her. But here, that had the opposite effect.
Up until then, I'd been pretty much invisible, but now the gazes of all of Class 3-B locked onto me. "…That one's on the committee, too?" "He's got an armband!" "Toss him in!"
Some rough older boy immediately captured me. Hey! How come I'm not being grabbed by a third-year girl?! This isn't fair, is it?!
They dragged me into the classroom. Hey! Who touched my butt just now?! The inside of the classroom was decorated like a cave, too. It was pretty elaborate, with ore shining via LED lights, crystal skulls, boulders made of Styrofoam, and spiders dangling from string.
I only had a moment to be impressed, though, and then we were shoved into the trolley—a modified cage dolly with decorations on it. Hey! Seriously, who is it?! Who's been patting my butt this whole time?!
Finally, they gave us a vigorous shove as if to make doubly sure the trolley would go, and the impact sent both me and Yukinoshita tumbling to the floor. I'd resisted at the last second, so I was able to avoid colliding with Yukinoshita, but the resulting position was still uncomfortable.
…Too close! Yukinoshita and I both shifted to the opposite corners of the small trolley.
"Um, thank you very much for riding the Trolley Olley today. Please enjoy the mysterious underground world" came the announcement, and immediately, the trolley started moving. A group of four athleticlooking boys dressed in black like stagehands were pulling it forward. Looking closely, I noticed two more backing them up.
The course was made of desks and tables, wooden boards, and a collection of sheet metal and iron plates, rattling under us as we proceeded at a decent clip. They'd created ups and downs, too, and I could really feel it when we dipped.
This is scary… And scariest of all was the fact that this was all done by hand…
Suddenly, I felt something catch on my clothing. I looked over to see Yukinoshita gripping my sleeve.
As we were shaken and jolted, violently flung this way and that and sometimes even lifted up, I kinda came to understand how clothes feel in the washing machine. Finally, the trolley stopped as we reached the end.
Still leaning back against the wall of the vehicle, Yukinoshita was stunned.
"How was your underground journey? Come visit us again!" The third-year from 3-B officially ended the experience, and finally, me and Yukinoshita both rebooted. We looked at each other. Yukinoshita immediately released my sleeve.
Then they practically chased us out of the classroom. After the darkness, the light of day was blinding.
"How was the ride?!" someone materialized to ask us proudly, someone who I assume was the representative for 3-B.
Yukinoshita, a little unsteady on her feet, shot them an icy look. But her wobbling dulled the impact. "Never mind how it was. It was different from what was on your application."
"Just a little! We were flexible! We just made some on-the-spot judgments!"
That's called "getting carried away." You can waste your time scolding people like this, but they're not going to listen. The representative wasn't at fault, not necessarily. It's just the way groups are. They pick a direction, and once they're in motion, you have a hard time getting them to listen to anyone else. So it would be best to keep adjustments minor. Course corrections. "Well, it looks like lots of people are enjoying it, so I say it's fine. As long as there's no safety issues," I said.
Yukinoshita considered that a bit. "Yes…well, please present additional application documents, then. And explain things fully to your guests. Post a notice by the entrance and provide a verbal explanation before they use the attraction."
"Um…well, if that's all, then okay," said the representative.
"Thank you." Yukinoshita bowed, then left. As she began walking, she glanced back at me. She seemed irked, and I could see the hint of a glare. Maybe the redness of her cheeks was the fault of the sunlight streaming in. "…Records, do your work. Or…will you slack off if you aren't monitored?"
"No…" Don't you underestimate me. When I slack off, I do it right, even under surveillance. That's who I am.
In the end, I had no choice about the matter, and I took a few photos under Yukinoshita's direction.
We made the rounds inspecting each classroom and recording the event at the same time.
When we got to classroom 3-E, which was pretty close to the gym, Yukinoshita stopped.
PET PLACE: MEOWY WOOFY
Apparently, the students had all brought in their pets from home.
They had photos posted up on the wall for clients to choose from, just like a host club. Of course, there were the basics like dogs, cats, rabbits, and hamsters, but there was also a ferret, a short-tailed weasel, a weasel snake, and a turtle… That's a lot of long torsos there.
Yukinoshita's eyes locked onto one particular photo among the collection.
Oh-ho, the Ragdoll, huh? A Ragdoll is a specific breed of cat, largish with thick, soft fur, hence the name "Ragdoll," in English. The word means "stuffed toy," although admittedly it sounds close to something more risqué. There are also small breeds like the Singapura and the Munchkin. Some people call them "singers" and "munchers," but I promise it's not obscene.
Yukinoshita peeked into the classroom, then looked at the photos again. Rinse and repeat.
…Oh, this is no good. This is not a good sign. I can see where this is going. "Why don't you just go in?" I said, even though I knew what was about to happen.
But surprisingly, Yukinoshita shook her head disappointedly.
"…There's dogs."
Oh, that's right—you've got a fear of doggos. Then that makes this a no-go, huh?
"Besides…people…would see…," Yukinoshita said with incredible embarrassment. She was blushing bright red, her head lowered.
Well, yeah, the way you coo over cats is a little off-putting, too. She isn't just like, Aw, how cute! She gets really into it. She's uncompromising about it. She makes it an art form, really. If people saw her doing that, her dignity as the vice-chair of the cultural committee would instantly evaporate.
This wasn't a legit pet shop, so of course, it wouldn't be the same. People were watching, too. "Well, just head out to Carrefour later, eh? If you go to the pet shop there, you could get a lot out of it."
"I know. I'm a regular."
Oh… She has all she needs…
"Then we're done here, right?" I asked.
But Yukinoshita gave no indication she was about to leave. In fact, she pointed at the door. "Records. Work."
Are you Mr. Popo? Don't talk in one-word sentences.
Anyway, Yukinoshita was very tenacious when there was a cat involved, and it didn't look like she would budge. Obediently, I gave in and devoted myself to a little photo session. Nice, nice, why don't you try lifting your leg there? After a few minutes, I was freed from my duties as her errand boy.
"Come on, is there even a point in taking multiple photos of a cat?" Well, whatever, I guess…
Yukinoshita took the digital camera from me and began checking through it. She chuckled in satisfaction at the number of photos I'd taken under her finicky instruction from afar. Watching her, I thought it was kinda dangerous to be walking and messing with a digital camera, but she never came close to bumping into anyone because, strangely, everyone was moving in the same direction.
Ahead of us was the gym. The doors were wide-open, and beyond them I could see a fairly large crowd had gathered already. When
Yukinoshita heard the cheers ahead, she returned the camera to me. "…It's just about time."
"For what?" I asked, but she didn't reply.
She marched straight on toward the gym, as if she was searching for the answer to something. Without looking back, she called my name. "Let's go, Hikigaya."
"Hm, uh-huh." Well, no matter where I went, I had my job as Records and Miscellaneous, so I had no objections. And since I was taking photos under the direction of the vice-chair herself, nobody could whine, Hey, we can't use these! afterward. It was easy enough, for what it was. I followed Yukinoshita through the gym doors.
The rows of folding chairs were all filled. There were lines of people standing in the back to watch, too. It was quite an audience; the event must have been announced a while ago.
"Oh, Yukinoshita. Perfect timing." One of the volunteer managers stationed in the gym came up to her. "We don't have enough chairs, and people are standing to watch. Do you think we should do some line organization?"
"I think it'll be fine."
"But won't things get noisy?"
"…It'll quiet down soon." And sure enough, just as Yukinoshita said, the chatter gradually faded away. Perhaps the audience sensed that the show was about to start, or perhaps they were awed by the high and dignified presence of the classical instruments on stage.
Before the show began, we moved to the very back with the standing audience. As we shuffled over to the far corner, there was a momentary outbreak of murmurs.
On the stage, I saw women in fancy dresses holding various musical instruments coming onto the stage one after another. Applause welled up from the audience.
The last one onstage, walking with an easy stride, was Haruno Yukinoshita.
Her long, slim dress emphasized the contours of her body, and the dark fabric fluttered with each step she took under the brilliant spotlights. Everyone who saw her was mesmerized. She wore two black rose corsages, one on her chest and one as a hair clip, beautiful even from a distance, and the glitter of pearls and sequins brought out her own radiance as a woman.
Haruno plucked up the corner of her skirt and did a graceful curtsy. Then her high-heeled feet stepped up onto the conductor's podium, where she took a baton in hand. Gently, she raised it up, then paused. All who watched her fell still at the graceful gesture.
Then she brought the baton down sharply, like a rapier. Instantly, the music was on.
The glittering brass instruments under the brilliant spotlights sent out their bursts of air, and the vibrating strings and bows created tones as sharp as arrows. No sooner had the thought occurred to me than the notes of the woodwinds stirred like the evening wind.
Haruno swiped across the air in front of her, and the violinists stood up, bowing with passion. Next, the flutists, piccoloists, oboists, and other performers behind them stood and stepped to the music without a break in the light melody. The clarinetists and bassoonists also raised their instruments high and stood up in alternation. The trumpeters and trombonists pointed upward to indicate a climactic moment, twinkling with an especially brilliant luster. The contrabassists spun their instruments around, while the timpanist twirled dramatically in time with them.
It was a spirited musical introduction, and one that seemed to contradict their classical attire. Their aggressive and dramatic choreography was unconventional, too.
The audience was shocked, like they'd suddenly been punched in the face.
But the rhythm was familiar, the melody stoked a fire inside you, and the choreography created a sense of affinity with the performers. All of it helped you get lost in the music. Before long, the whole audience was keeping rhythm on their knees.
What was this tune? I'd heard it before. It was one that concert bands tend to do a lot…
Right as the answer reached the tip of my tongue, suddenly Haruno raised her hands high and waved them in large motions from side to side. That gesture didn't match the harmony of the orchestra, and attention gathered on her hands. Her thin, long fingers were counting down.
Then a familiar phrase reached our ears. Everyone in the venue had to have recognized the song. Haruno faced sideways once more and arched her back. Baton toward the performers, her free hand toward the audience, she waved energetically.
At that signal, everyone onstage and in the audience leaped up, yelling, "Mambo!"
Still burning with enthusiasm, the performance plunged forward. One more time, the call came in like a raging wave: "Mambo!"
It didn't seem like it had been years since they'd last performed. Not at all. I'd thought the alumni had retired from playing with orchestras, like Haruno had, but under her conducting, they were creating an incredibly vivid performance. They had the audience worked up like what you'd see in a club or a live music bar. It was like they were pulling the audience into their inner circle, almost winning them over against their will. And what let the audience get sucked in was the practiced talent of the orchestra and of the conductor, Haruno Yukinoshita.
We were at the very corner of the standing audience, and that was why I could observe it all calmly. If I'd been in the middle, it probably would've been horrible. I probably would have obliviously stayed in my chair, and then people would have glared at me about it afterward.
The orchestra was still sprinting toward the finale.
"…ess." I heard a murmur beside me, so quiet it was nearly erased by the impressive performance.
"Huh?" I hadn't been able to hear most of what she'd said, so I tilted my head a bit, pointing my ear toward her.
Yukinoshita inched her body just a bit closer and moved her lips in toward me. "I said, I'd expect no less." The whisper amid the sea of sound told me we were close in the darkness. Her clean scent wafted toward me, and I reflexively withdrew.
Then I reconsidered and moved just half a step closer. It's okay. As long as her face isn't too close, I won't get too nervous. "I'm surprised to hear you complimenting her."
"…Oh? I may not seem like it, but I do think highly of my sister." Now that we were closer, it was easier for us to hear each other. But her next remark was so quiet, I nearly missed it. "Because I once felt I wanted to be like her." Her eyes were fixed on the stage. Up there was Haruno, wielding her baton as freely and magnificently as a sword dancer.
The conductor's podium was a step above the stage. That place, underneath the spotlight, was right where Haruno belonged.
"…You don't have to. Just stay like you are," I quietly replied.
Maybe my words were drowned out by the applause and cheers from the audience, because Yukinoshita didn't reply.