Needless to say, Komachi Hikigaya's wrath is there.
Let's just say…
This is hypothetical.
If you could load only one old save file, like in a video game, to make new decisions, would that change your life?
The answer is no.
That route is only possible for people with choices. For those who never had a choice, this speculation is completely meaningless.
Therefore, I have no regrets.
Or to be more accurate, just about everything in my life is a regret.
And that's not even the real issue here.
It's too little, too late. If you start talking about what-ifs, you'll never stop, and it's not like any amount of talking will change things. Once you pick your option and settle on it, turning back is impossible.
What-ifs, parallel universes, and time loops do not exist. This is why, ultimately, the scenario of life is a linear corridor. Any discussion of possibility is fruitless.
I'm already well aware that I'm wrong. But the world is even more wrong.
The world creates all sorts of messes, like war, poverty, and discrimination, or when you don't get any job offers while you're looking for work, so you go into customer service. Then one day, the register count is off, and you're forced to commit seppuku. The experience is as common as grass.
Where is the righteousness in a world like that? In a world gone wrong, "right" isn't right.
Yet, when things are wrong, we call it truly right.
What point is there in extending the life of something you know full well will be lost?
Eventually, everything will be lost. That's just how it is.
But even so.
Sometimes that ephemerality gives birth to beauty.
These things are meaningful because they will one day come to an end. So then delay or obstruction of that end—"repose," you might call it—surely should not be overlooked or accepted.
You should be conscious of that inevitable loss.
I'm sure there is a joy in occasionally, quietly looking back on those precious things you've lost with nostalgia and affection as you tip a drink in their honor, alone.
It was an unpleasant morning.
The skies were a perfect clear blue, and a chilly wind gently rattled the windows. The air inside the room was the warm sort that invited you to nod off.
A really unpleasant morning.
It was the Monday after we'd returned from the school field trip.
Mondays always get me down. The lethargy was so strong, my body refused to move, but I forced it out of bed and headed for the washroom.
Eyes still full of sleep, I stared at the mirror and saw the same old familiar me.
…Yep, same as always.
Completely unchanged—to a boring degree.
The aversion to school, the desire to indulge in indolence forever, and the wave of homesickness as soon as I leave the house are all ordinary for me.
But the water I washed my face with felt a little colder than usual.
Fall had passed, and already it was fair to call the season winter. November was almost through, and there was only a little over a month left in the year.
My parents had left the house early in order to avoid rush hour. They said commuting traffic gets particularly bad at this time of year. I can't help thinking that winter mornings suck—even for adults. I'd prefer to loll around in my futon until the last minute.
But they have reasons why they still have to go to work.
I'm sure some people are internally motivated to do things they don't have to do. However, others base their actions on what society demands or what other people are doing. Some simply don't want to miss out.
When you get to the crux of the matter, people act to gain something or to avoid loss.
My face reflected in the mirror really was, even humbly speaking, more handsome than average, but my leaden eyes were most certainly not—they were varsity-level rotten.
That's me. This is what makes Hachiman Hikigaya.
Satisfied that I was an unchanging constant, I left the bathroom.
Stepping into the living room, I saw my little sister, Komachi, in the kitchen, standing imposingly in front of the teakettle. Our parents had already had breakfast, which was probably why the menu for the day was already laid out. Once Komachi poured the tea, the meal would be complete.
I pulled out a chair with a scrape, and right then, the water reached its boiling point. Komachi, pouring the hot water into the teapot, glanced at me. "Oh, morning, Bro."
"Yeah, morning." We exchanged our greetings.
And then she let out an "Ohhh," sounding a little impressed. "…You kinda look actually awake for once," she said.
I tilted my head questioningly. Was I normally not a morning person?
No, I didn't even have to think about it—I am not a morning person. It's not like I have low blood pressure or anything—I have low motivation. So Komachi wasn't exactly incorrect in pointing this out. I was indeed awake that day.
"…Yeah, well, I washed my face with cold water." I tossed out the reason that came to mind, but Komachi gave me a doubtful look. "Hmm… I think the water's the same as always, though."
"It's not like it got colder suddenly. Anyway, let's eat breakfast and get going to school."
"Yeah, okay." With her slippers pattering on the floor, Komachi brought over the tea. It seemed the family choice was not Ayataka bottled tea but the kind of tea you brew in a pot.
We sat in our seats, put our hands together, and then quietly said our thanks for the food in unison.
During winter, the Hikigaya household breakfast often includes traditional foods like hot rice and miso soup. I guess the idea is to warm yourself up with miso soup before going out. Like a mom's love…or something.
I have a sensitive tongue, so I was blowing on my miso soup to cool it. Komachi was doing the same when my eyes met with hers across the table. She placed her bowl down and slowly began, "…Hey…"
"Hmm?" I made a short sound to show I was listening and prompted her to continue with a glance.
Komachi peered searchingly at me. "Did something happen?" she asked.
"Not at all… In fact, my whole life has been a whole lot of nothing, actually. People do say that anything can happen, though, so from that perspective, maybe it'd be good to have a little bit of something. Like how having a chronic disease makes you go to the doctor a lot, so you end up actually being healthier. Maybe that whole lot of nothing is creating a paradoxical turbulence in my life," I said, all in one breath.
Komachi blinked. "What's going on, Bro?" That was blunt. Unexpectedly so.
Damn, she got straight to the point. I mean, I know everything I just said was nonsense, but isn't she gonna quip about any of it? But I tried so hard on that and came up with a whole rant…
Maybe it really was the typical Monday blues, but I couldn't get into my groove. "Well, you know…my point is—nothing." I popped some fried egg into my mouth with my chopsticks. Are fried eggs considered Western cuisine or Japanese cuisine?
Komachi listened to my answer, then gave a weak "Hmm" in response. Then she slid her tray a little to the side, leaned forward over the table, and examined my face. "Hey, did you know?"
"What? Are you Mameshiba or something?"
Or maybe she's Hakoiri-Neko, since she's sheltered. Or no, she might be Rice Monster Pappu, since we're eating right now. There's no way she could be TapuTapu the Panda; Komachi isn't particularly tubby. She was leaning forward, a pose that should have emphasized her chest area, so perhaps that part could be a little tubbier. No, no change necessary. She's supercute as is.
As I was nodding to myself about this, Komachi breathed a short sigh. "You're always full of crap, Bro, but when you're not doing well, you double down on it…"
"Oh. I do…?" Komachi was always a difficult judge to please. I couldn't argue with her accusation that I was full of crap. I really do only ever come up with nonsense. But that astute analysis of what I say and do—Is she a psychological investigator or something? The hell is with this profiling?
"Hey…" Poking at her salad with her chopsticks, Komachi paused as if she was chewing over what to say. The small tomato on her plate rolled around.
I could get a vague idea of what would come beyond that pause— was it because we were siblings? Or was it because I'd come to that same thought?
Komachi set her chopsticks down and examined me. "Did something happen…with Yui and Yukino?"
As she asked me that question, I was silently spooning food into my mouth; I'd been raised not to talk with my mouth full. I drank my miso soup slowly, swallowing down various feelings along with it. "…Did they say something?" I asked.
"No." Komachi slowly shook her head. "They wouldn't bring up stuff like that. You know that, don't you, Bro?" she said, and I had no reply for her. Yukinoshita and Yuigahama will never shut up when it comes to trivial things, but they wouldn't suddenly come to my sister to gossip. "I just had a guess," she said, looking over to see my reaction.
Since we live together, she notices things, both good and bad, but there are some things I don't want her realizing.
"Huh." I replied with a basically meaningless noise and glanced over at the wall clock. Then I continued my meal with more enthusiasm.
But Komachi was keeping a more leisurely pace. "Make sure you actually chew. And…" It seemed she meant to keep going but was taking her time, because she could tell I was trying to end the conversation. She looked off in the other direction as if remembering something. "Something like this happened before, right?"
"Did it?" Even as I said that, I was clearly aware Komachi had to be talking about the incident from June. I think she'd pointed it out in the same way back then, too.
Hey, things haven't changed at all. As expected of me.
No growth, or change, or anything.
Komachi squeezed her teacup as if warming her hands. Though I doubted there would be any tea stems floating to the surface, her eyes were pointed down at the liquid. "…But it seems a little different from last time."
"Well, of course. People change every day. Your cells die and renew. Apparently, they're all replaced every five or seven years or something. So it's like, people are—"
"Yeah, yeah." Komachi casually ignored me with an exasperated smile, then suddenly released her cup. It looked like her hands were on her lap. "…So what did you do?"
"I'm a little offended by that assumption," I replied.
But Komachi simply stayed silent, looking into my eyes. With her focused gaze trained on me, I really doubted I could evade her by saying something stupid again.
I found myself aggressively scratching my head and looking away. "…It's nothing. Because there never was anything."
Komachi sighed. "Maybe you just don't know you're doing it, Bro. Oh, guess I have no choice… C'mon and tell me about it already!"
"I dunno…"
I'd been thinking about what happened this whole time.
It had only been a few days since we'd come back from Kyoto, but it had been on my mind. I'd been replaying my actions in my mind, wondering if I'd made a mistake somewhere or if there'd been some other problem.
But all that ever came of my pondering was the conclusion that I'd chosen the most efficient, reliable, and safe route. I believe with the limited time and few cards available, I'd managed to come up with fair results. I'd avoided the worst possible outcome, and I'd managed to fulfill the other request made of me, too. I couldn't say for sure if they justified the means, but the end results were there.
But there was no need to explain that to Komachi in detail. As long as I understood, that was enough.
"It really is nothing." I gave a lighthearted shrug. And then, as if to declare this conversation was now over, I went straight to bolting down the rest of my food.
But Komachi wouldn't let the matter go.
"Oh, you. So what happened?" She tilted her head slightly, leaned her cheek on her hand, and gave a silly smile.
Her gestures were cutesy, but I could sense her determination. She wasn't going to let me equivocate my way out of this one.
But I really was sick of this.
Normally, I wouldn't feel irritated by Komachi's prying. I'm sure I normally would've let it go with a smile or dodged it with some clever comment. However, if things had been normal in the first place, then Komachi wouldn't have been pestering me so persistently, would she? It was as if the universe was forcing me to acknowledge the conscious effort I was putting into pretending this was all the same as usual. How aggravating. "…You're being really nosy. Get off my ass."
"…"
I didn't mean to say it that harshly, and it struck Komachi silent. But she only froze for an instant before her shoulders started trembling. Her eyes flared open wide as she shouted back at me. "Wh-why do you have to be like that?!"
"It's a normal reaction. You've been way too nosy, and it's annoying." I'm sure that wasn't what I should have said. There would have been any number of ways to avoid this outcome. But even so, once the words are out, you can't take them back.
There's no such thing as take-backs.
Komachi narrowed her eyes in a glare, but eventually, her gaze quietly dropped away. "…Hmph. Okay. Fine. I won't ask again."
"Good."
And that ended all conversation at the breakfast table.
We both continued our meal in silence, and time seemed to freeze for us, passing incredibly slowly.
It wasn't long before Komachi gulped down her miso soup and stood. There was some rattling as she swept together the tableware and bundled it to the sink. Then she pattered off to the door and stopped. Standing there, without looking at me, she said quickly, "Komachi's leaving now. Lock the door."
"Uh-huh," I replied briefly, and Komachi slammed the door. Right as she did, I could hear her murmur to herself. "…I knew it. Something did happen."
Left behind alone in the living room, I reached out to my tea. It had already cooled, and when I put my lips to the cup, the liquid was tepid.
It felt like it had been years since I'd last quarreled with Komachi like that. Guess it's late to be noticing this, but I must've made her angry, huh…? I thought, a little worried.
Komachi rarely gets angry, but when she does, she holds on to it. What's more, she was also quite definitely smack-dab in the middle of puberty. I didn't know how she might look at me when she came back.
This is what I get, even with my own sister.
It truly is difficult to get along with people.
Autumn was well underway on my route to school.
The leaves of the trees that stood along the cycling course beside the Hanamigawa River were changing color or falling. The sky was clear, and the sea breeze was blowing air so dry, it was as if it had forgotten the humidity of summer.
Though gradually, the seasons were clearly changing. The visual transformation between summer and fall is particularly apparent, and in late fall, you can see the colors of winter.
This past string of seasons had been filled with perhaps the most varied changes. Autumn has deepened and I think of my neighbors.
What are they up to?
It's a famous haiku.
It may be that curiosity about the actions of neighbors is rooted in the particular sorrow and dreariness of the season, or it may be from a touch of loneliness. That lonesomeness makes you interested in others, and the desire to stop that isolation turns your attention to the existence of other people. Seen from another angle, this could be interpreted as an expression of your desire for their attention.
They say the other is the mirror that reflects the self. Basically, all others are nothing more than false images seen through the filter that is the self, and therefore, all that exists is the self.
Ultimately, people only ever think about themselves.
The act of questioning what the neighbors are doing is merely a comparison of the self against others, a way to know where you stand by way of the question So then what about me?
Using others to substantiate yourself is lacking in sincerity. That's the wrong way of pursuing the self.
Therefore, isolation is righteous, and isolation is correct.
I rattled along on my bicycle. It occasionally made some rusty squeaks, but I ignored that and pedaled away. At around this time, I wouldn't be late—I'd make it to the classroom before the bell could ring, at least.
This was the time I normally came to school.
As I went into the bicycle parking, I heard pattering feet as a smattering of people rushed off. I parked my bicycle and hurried to the entrance like everyone else. Loners walk rather fast. It's one of the skills you gain when you don't often walk with other people. At the rate I'm currently mastering it, I might make the Japan national team for racewalking in the Tokyo Olympics. Or not.
The school entrance had a cheery air and the usual scene; it was a hubbub of good mornings and chatter spreading out over the stairs and into the hallway. After the major event of the school field trip, it seemed the same old ordinary school days were back.
When I went into the classroom, it was the same there, too.
I moved through the harmonious chatter without making a sound, between people and desks, going to my own seat to slide out my chair. I took a seat and waited for morning homeroom to start.
Though I was zoning out, my ears and eyes gathered information on their own. Seeing my classmates' lack of reaction to me, I figured my fake confession the other day had not become public. Well, of course. It was common sense that nobody would spread it around. It wasn't something Tobe, Ebina, or Hayama would enjoy having people know about.
The vibe in the class hadn't changed, either. In fact, I felt like it was actually better than before.
It wasn't that getting through this event had deepened their ties—I think it was the limited time making them like that.
Going to chilly Kyoto and feeling the change of the seasons, they'd finished one of the most major events in high school. Everyone had probably come to terms with that.
November would soon be over. Once we get into the latter half of December, there's winter break and New Year's sandwiched between then and January. Then there's February, which is shorter, and then March, where spring break awaits, and moment by moment, time is being lost. We had only about three months of time left to spend in class.
That was what made my classmates value it. But for whose sake? It's not for their friends.
It's their youth they cling to. They hold on to their own time, to the space and time flowing around and through them. It's like a sort of narcissism.
As I was making my arbitrary observations and arbitrary analysis, coming to arbitrary conclusions, a quiet yawn slipped from my mouth. Thinking about nonsense is proof that I'm tired.
Though we were only just out of the weekend, I felt like a sluggish weight still remained in my body. I slowly rotated my neck to loosen the stiffness in my shoulders.
My field of vision was full of the ever-familiar faces of my classmates, the people chattering away loudly. Ignoring them, I saw a certain ponytailed girl looking out the window.
Even in the restlessness of the classroom, Kawasaki remained herself, unchanged from before.
Looking farther to the front, there were some girls in a little clump, showing photos to one another. The one in the middle of the circle gleefully babbling away had to be Sagami. Considering all that had happened, she hadn't grown much compared with before, which makes her a rather rare type, I think. Well, I'll never be involved with her again, so who cares? Perhaps the school field trip had had some positive effects, as I couldn't hear any backbiting from her.
Unsurprisingly, it wasn't only Sagami and her friends talking about the field trip—the topic came up in conversations all over the classroom.
But what they discussed now would eventually turn into more memories, sinking to the bottom of their minds. Then this would change form, becoming a moment spent looking at photos or reflecting on the past. And I'm sure that was true not only for the school field trip but also for the time they spent right now.
I doubt many were aware of this. Or maybe they realized it unconsciously, and that was why they put on a false cheer, so they could enjoy themselves. I'm sure they would all eventually come to pretend not to notice, act like they'd never seen it.
So then maybe it was the same for them, too.
I turned my head around further to steal a glance at the back of the class.
The scene there was equally unchanged.
"So we came back to Chiba, right? And, like, the Keiyo Line was already all Christmassy, and I was like, Whoa! The Destiny Land ads were right in your face," Tobe said in a lighthearted tone as he tugged at the overlong hair at the back of his head. He seemed to be enjoying himself with the others of the clique, just as he had before the field trip.
"Destiny Land's going all out."
"I know, man."
Ooka and Yamato carelessly joined in on the conversation with the same casual vibe as Tobe.
"…Destiny Land, huh?" Miura said rather vacantly as she twirled her wide blonde sausage rolls around her finger. If Miura was attracted to Destiny Princess stuff, that was actually kinda girlish and sweet. In my opinion.
"It's already that time, huh?" A smile wafted across Hayama's face as he leaned his cheek on his hand.
Yuigahama, who'd been listening, touched her pointer finger to her jaw, looked up at the ceiling, hummed in thought, and said, "Oh, that reminds me. I think they got some kind of new attraction a little while ago."
Ebina folded her arms pensively. "Huh? Wasn't that in Destiny Sea? Sometimes I don't even know which is which anymore… Which one tops?"
"Camouflage, Ebina." Miura smacked Ebina on the head, and a smile slipped onto my face.
Hayama's clique was the same as ever. That was a slight relief.
The world wished for things to be unchanging, to stay at a standstill.
Maybe that would eventually simply turn to obstruction and decay, but this world was obstructed and decaying to begin with. So all's as it should be.
Hayama and Ebina didn't come to interfere with my business, either.
That was an extremely correct choice. If they were to act as if nothing had happened, then they had to react to me just as they had before the field trip. Then the distance between us would remain constant.
As I was staring at them somewhat vacantly, suddenly, my gaze met Yuigahama's.
"…"
"…"
It couldn't have been much, not even a few seconds of eye contact. But it felt strangely long. The way our eyes sort of searched each other was uncomfortable, and I immediately looked away. I let my body weight lean on my head, supported by my left arm, and closed my eyes as if I were taking a nap. But even after I averted my eyes, my ears kept working.
"So, hey. Like, all of us going to Destiny Land or something? Yeah, man!"
"For sure."
"Yeah."
It seemed there was no actual content in this conversation, yet it would not end. But Yuigahama's laughter was a part of it, at least, and that made me breathe a sigh of relief.
…Their conversations really are so void of content, though. It's all about the vibe with them. Worthless.
Though maybe they were all just avoiding touching the core of things. It's very possible that this inoffensive conversation was a way of acting out normalcy.
But anyway, how beautiful it is to have good friends, I guess. Facades are so lovely. Of course they are—that's the entire point of glossing over everything else.
Therefore, the incredibly basic equation of friendship = beauty = facade holds valid. I really do have a sense for math. Which reminds me, apparently some sciencey types say completed equations are beautiful. I can get that. There's a sense of security in the truth of an unchangeable and definite fact. But still, getting worked up over numerical expressions is a sign of a perverse attraction to science. Yikes. Science and math types really are creepy.
As I was killing time considering these trivial matters, I opened my eyes and glanced over at the clock. Guess the bell is gonna ring soon…
A figure rushed to the classroom barely on time, steps hurried but light. The door timidly slid open, and Totsuka, in his gym clothes, peeked his face in. He quietly checked inside, then breathed a deep sigh. He wiped some sweat off himself and glanced at the clock. "Phew, I made it…," he muttered, seeming relieved, and then headed to his desk, exchanging greetings with his classmates on the way.
In passing, he noticed me and walked up to me, where I'd been watching the whole time. You might question why I'd been watching the whole time, to which I will ask in return, Who wouldn't be?
He must have come running, as he was panting hard, cheeks flushed. His eyes looked somewhat moist, perhaps out of tiredness from morning practice.
"Morning, Hachiman."
I lightly cleared my throat to avoid getting too worked up, then returned his greeting. But if I was too calm, it wouldn't be like me. "…Yeah, morning." I managed the perfectly modulated tone.
But Totsuka gave me a blank look of silent confusion. His casually raised hand stopped in position. "…" "What is it?" I asked.
He waved his hand and beamed a smile as if to distract me from his silence. "Oh, no, I was just thinking, Huh, that's a normal greeting."
"…" His statement made me reflect on my recent response. Had something about it been different from usual?
But it seemed additional pondering would not bring an immediate answer. I abandoned thinking about it and said, "Yeah…well, I guess. It's normal. Did you have morning practice, Totsuka?"
"Yeah. I haven't gone in a long time, so I went a little too hard. Oh, have you recovered from the field trip, Hachiman?" he said.
I recalled the trip back from Kyoto. I'd spent most of the time on the return Shinkansen sleeping. That must have been what he was talking about. Well, I'd actually been awake for about half of it, but I just hadn't felt like talking to people… Um, besides, you know, I hadn't been in a great mood, and I don't want Totsuka seeing me like that, right? It's like, I always want to be the cool Hachiman Hikigaya in front of Totsuka. What the heck am I saying?
"Yeah, I'm all good now."
"Oh, that's great." Totsuka smiled back at me, and that was right when the bell rang. He raised his hand a little, then went to his seat. I sent him off with a warm smile.
Yes, no more exhaustion for me. Not after that anyway.
With each class that came to a close, my body felt heavier and heavier. Automatically, I counted the hours left until school was over.
And then when day-end homeroom was over, that countdown ended, too.
I was out of time.
Taking my mostly empty bag in hand, I got to my feet. I left the classroom before everyone else who would be going to their clubs or returning home like me. I felt eyes on me from somewhere, but that gaze was cut off when I closed the door behind me.
A relaxed air flowed through the hallway. All the kids coming and going must have had places to be. Though their steps were slow, they never stopped.
I chose to walk along the edge of the hallway, out of the light of the sun, where the temperature felt a little cooler.
The crowds were thinner than usual when I descended the stairs. Some classes were probably still in day-end homeroom. Nobody called out to me or questioned me as I headed for the entrance, and I arrived without issue. There, I changed into my outdoor shoes and
went to the bicycle parking lot. If I were to unlock my bicycle, a bit of
pedaling would take me home even if my mind wandered somewhere else.
But that wouldn't be like me.
I am me. The same as usual. So then I should spend my time the same way I had before.
The vending machine installed right in front of the school entrance caught my eye.
Let's cheer myself up. I chose a canned coffee. Yet again, Ayataka tea was not my choice.
"…This is bitter." I drank it down in one go and tossed the empty can into the trash. The bitterness spread through my whole mouth, and even once I was walking again, it still lingered.
My legs still felt heavy, but I forced them to walk, heading to the clubroom via a different route from how I'd gone before. As I walked along the hallways and climbed the stairs, I found myself thinking too much. Each thought drew a slow sigh from me.
And then, after a long time, I finally arrived in front of the clubroom.
Before I put my hand to the door, I took a deep breath.
I heard people talking inside. It was hard to hear their voices through the door, but it seemed the girls were there.
Now that I'd ascertained as much, I slid the door open all the way.
The talking stopped.
"…"
All three of us fell silent. Yukinoshita and Yuigahama looked at me, surprised. Did they think that since I was later than usual today, I wouldn't come? Half-right. I wasn't exactly feeling a proactive desire to come.
I was just being stubborn. It was a piddling stubbornness, spiteful and contrary, worn out and basically worthless.
It was my personal, tiny attempt to hold on to my past, my actions, and my convictions.
I dipped my head in a small greeting nod and proceeded to my usual position.
I pulled out the chair and sat, then took my current book out of my bag. The bookmark was in the same position it had been before the field trip.
Once I started reading, finally, time started again.
On the table there was a quilted tea cozy, baked sweets and chocolate, and a teacup and mug with steam wafting off both. The room was warm, perhaps because they'd boiled water, and it smelled like black tea. But it felt as if that temperature was dropping.
Yukinoshita's cold gaze shot through me. "…You're here."
"Yeah, guess I am." I replied with a nonanswer, turning a page I'd not yet read more than half of. After that, Yukinoshita didn't say anything.
Yuigahama glanced over at me, too, but she merely twisted her mouth in a glum expression and then put those lips to her mug. But she did communicate to me with her body language. She was asking me why I'd come.
The accusatory silence went on.
I continued to follow the lines of words with my eyes. I leaned back in my chair, let my shoulders relax, and turned the pages of the paperback. It was an unproductive span of time, as I unconsciously counted the remaining pages of the book and the hours until I could go home.
There was the sound of a clearing throat, the sound of clothing rustling, the sound of a fidgeting leg.
Eventually, I heard the click of the long hand of the clock moving.
As if taking that as her cue, Yuigahama sucked in a little breath. "Oh, so yeah, everyone's been pretty normal. Um, uh…everyone…," she said, but she must have felt overwhelmed by the frigid chill in the room, as she gradually trailed off. But Yukinoshita and I were both giving her our attention.
By everyone, she must have meant Ebina, Tobe, Hayama, and Miura and the rest of them.
And indeed, even after the field trip, their clique hadn't changed. It looked to me as if they were still spending their time as friends, trying to get along, like always.
"…Yeah, from what I could see, it seems like they're none the worse." No, I wasn't proud of what I'd done. You could probably count it as the worst kind of way to handle things. But still, it hadn't been for nothing, so there was a silver lining. So I'd say that was my honest opinion.
"…I see. Well then, that's good," Yukinoshita said, tracing the rim of her teacup. But nothing about her expression seemed to think so, and her somber gaze was pointed at the tea in her cup.
Yuigahama's smile brightened as she patted her bun, apparently encouraged by her success in starting a conversation. "Man, I was so anxious about it, but it's like, I didn't even have to worry! Everyone's totally…normal." But she couldn't maintain the energy. Her head drooped, and her last mumbled word had a somehow empty ring to it. "…I don't really know what everyone's thinking anymore."
Who was that remark directed at? Realizing everyone meant more than Hayama's clique, I found myself startled.
When I failed to react, Yukinoshita said, "…Well, it's not as if you would ever have understood what everyone is thinking in the first place." Her cold manner of speaking made Yuigahama choke up, and she fell silent again. The mug in her hands was no longer steaming.
With a pained look at Yuigahama, Yukinoshita continued,
"Besides…even if you know each other, whether you can understand each other is something else." Yukinoshita reached out for her teacup, head listing downward. She drank her tea, which I'm sure was cold by now, and then oh-so-quietly laid her cup on the saucer. As if she wanted to avoid making any noise at all.
The silence asked me the meaning of what she'd said.
"…Yeah." Upon consideration, that was clear. Yukinoshita was utterly correct, and there was no fault to be found in her words. It was completely true.
I breathed a short sigh and pulled myself together. "Well, there's no use worrying about it so much. I think it's best for us to act normally, too." If you want things to remain the same as before, then your surroundings have to stay that way, too. Connections between people can easily be cut—not only by internal causes but external ones, too.
Yuigahama slowly repeated what I'd said. "Us acting normal, too… Yeah…" She gave a tiny nod as if she was trying to tell herself that, though it didn't look like it would work at all. I nodded to her in reply.
This was our choice.
No, it was my choice.
Only one person, Yukino Yukinoshita, did not approve, and she was looking straight at me. Overwhelming me with her glare, she slowly said, "Normal, hmm? …Yes, this is what's normal to you, isn't it?" "…Yeah," I replied.
Yukinoshita breathed a little sigh. "…So you're saying you won't change."
I got the feeling she'd said something like that before. But it meant something completely different now from what it had then. Her words were without warmth, resigned, like it was over.
That stung.
"Do you…um…?" Yukinoshita stopped there as if it was too hard to say. Her eyes shifted as if searching for words.
Oh. This has got to be a continuation of the last time.
She was going to say the words she'd swallowed then.
I'd unconsciously braced myself for it, so I forced myself to relax and waited for Yukinoshita to talk. She was gripping her skirt. Her shoulders were trembling slightly. And then, as if she'd made up her mind, her throat bobbed in a swallow.
But the words never came out.
"Y-Yukinon! U-um, listen…," Yuigahama started to say, then stopped and clunked her mug down hard on her desk. It was as if she'd sensed Yukinoshita shouldn't say anything further.
But that was merely to delay the inevitable, pretending she couldn't see it, burying it quietly and secretly out in the yard. The tension did not relax, and as the girls tried to find something to say, they only created a silence.
Just how long did this go on? It couldn't have been that long. The only thing moving was the second hand of the clock.
But I was made aware of the time when a light knock came on the door. Our eyes all turned toward it, but nobody spoke.
Then there was another knock, another attempt.
"Come in," I answered. I didn't speak all that loudly, but it seemed my voice reached the door anyway.
The door rattled as it was shoved open. "Pardon me," said Miss Hiratsuka as she entered the room.
2
For some reason, Iroha Isshiki smells of danger.
A wind blew in through the open door, rustling through Miss Hiratsuka's long, glossy black hair. She swept the stray strands aside with some annoyance, then came inside, heels clicking on the floor. "There's something I'd like to ask you kids, but…," she said, gaze sweeping over us. Immediately, she tilted her head with a hmm. "Did something happen?" she asked, but nobody could reply. Yuigahama turned her face aside awkwardly, while Yukinoshita sat with her eyes closed and expression composed, not even twitching.
This created a weird pause, and Miss Hiratsuka tilted her head again before turning a questioning look at me.
"No, it's fine." I'm not really strong enough to be able to ignore a direct look, so I made an effort to reply calmly.
I'd meant to speak briefly, but Miss Hiratsuka smiled wryly, seemingly having clued in on something regardless. Well, with Yukinoshita and Yuigahama both clamming up, it was obvious to anyone that something was going on.
"Maybe I should come back later."
"Well, that'd be all right." It won't make a difference, I implied wordlessly. It seemed likely this deadlock would continue tomorrow, and the day after that, too.
"…I see." Miss Hiratsuka seemed to figure out what I was stabbing at, as she shrugged her shoulders and breathed a short sigh.
Sensitive to the gloomy cloud that once again hung over us,
Yuigahama asked, "Did you need something, Miss Hiratsuka?"
"Yes, I do… You can come in," Miss Hiratsuka called out to the door, and with a pleasantly chirpy "Pardon me" and soft footsteps, someone I recognized came into view. Her hair was in braids, a pin was attached to her bangs, and her forehead was cute and smooth. This was Meguri, one year older than us and president of the student council. And behind her stood another girl, an unfamiliar one.
"There's something I wanted to talk to you guys about…," Meguri started, turning back to the girl behind her.
She took one step forward, and her shoulder-length light-brown hair swayed. It seemed that was her natural color—perhaps the flecks of sunset light dancing across it was due to her cuticles. Her fluffy hair and big, round eyes were cute and puppylike. She wore her uniform in a very slightly casual manner, demurely squeezing the sleeves of her loose, oversized cardigan.
Who's this? I thought, looking at her, and she smiled shyly.
Instantly, that stirred ripples of unrest in my heart. It wasn't love at first sight, of course. It was a simple warning bell.
"Oh, Iroha-chan," Yuigahama said.
"Iroha-chan" replied pleasantly, tilting her head daintily. "Hello, Yui." "Yahallo!" They both waved their hands in small motions in front of their chests.
"Oh, so you've met Isshiki. Then I suppose I don't have to introduce her," Meguri said, nodding.
Iroha Isshiki.
I'd heard that name before.
I recalled that she was the soccer team manager and a first-year. Back during the judo tournament, that weird little event we'd held before summer vacation, she'd come to fangirl over Hayama. Which reminds me, what happened with Miura after that…?
This wasn't the time to be musing about the past.
It seemed whatever they'd come to discuss was connected to Iroha Isshiki. But then why was Meguri with them, too?
I looked at Meguri in search of an explanation, and she nodded back at me and said, "Did you know student council elections are coming up?"
Her question rang no bells with me. As long as it wasn't compulsory to take part in planning it, my involvement in school functions was fairly low. Without moving my head, I checked the others' reactions with a shift of my eyes. Yuigahama quietly shook her head.
Well, it wasn't a very exciting event. If you had friends or acquaintances running, then I'm sure it'd be different, but I figured your typical student more often than not wouldn't be involved with student council. The general student body would perceive the student council as Some people who do stuff. I don't really know what. So it'd be about the same for the elections for choosing the student council. I would have thought that way, too, if I hadn't helped out before with the cultural and athletic festivals. I figured Yuigahama would think the same way.
But one person here was different—Yukinoshita.
"Yes. It's already been announced, hasn't it? As have the candidates, I believe."
"I knew you'd know, Yukinoshita! That's right, they've all been announced already. Except for the clerk, since no one decided to run." Meguri gave a pleased little bit of applause. "It actually should have been done a little earlier, but we couldn't get the candidates, so we extended the deadline. We have to make sure there's a successor for me, or I can't retire…" Meguri made a comically fake sob.
"The faculty always winds up leaning on Shiromeguri. Normally, we'd have liked to find the next one around the time of the athletic festival, but…" Miss Hiratsuka gave Meguri a worried look, but Meguri smiled and waved her hands.
"Oh, no, it's totally fine! I've already gotten a recommendation for my choice school, so it won't affect my entrance exams."
Thinking about it now, it was obvious, but Meguri was a third-year. She would be graduating in a few months.
As I gazed at her, thinking that soon I'd be getting my last look at this fluffy Megurin and the atmosphere around her, she seemed to realize that they were still in the middle of explaining things. "Ah! Oh yes, yes, I've got to explain. So as my last task, I'm running the election management committee with all the current council members."
So that meant none of the current student council would be running in this election?
Well, the current student council must have found the work meaningful because they'd been working with Meguri. They did seem to be pretty devoted to her. Either that, or after going through the cultural and sports festivals with us, they'd ended up feeling like I've had enough of the student council! (as the camera does an iris out).
"So we've made it to candidate disclosure, but…"
"Disclosure…," Yuigahama muttered quietly, but nobody explained it for her. Normally, Yukinoshita would have done so immediately, but she had her hand on her chin, seemingly lost in thought.
Miss Hiratsuka couldn't let this pass unnoticed. "As it pertains to our school, it's basically to disclose the announcement of the election schedule and candidates."
Yuigahama laughed to cover her embarrassment and thanked her.
"Th-thank you. Ah-ha-ha… U-um, and so what about that…disclosure?" she asked, trying to change the subject.
Meguri glanced over at Isshiki. "Isshiki is running for student council president."
Oh-ho, so this one's running, huh…? It may have sounded mean to call this surprising, but Iroha Isshiki did not look at all the type to be interested in student council.
Wondering what was in this for her, I gave her a hard look. She seemed to notice my gaze and blinked at me. Apparently, she hadn't even been aware that I was there. Hey, but you looked over here before, didn't you? Did you think I was an ornament or something? Is there any club that would set up such a novel totem pole?
But Isshiki didn't show any particular disgust toward me. In fact, she put her hand to her mouth with a smile, as if something had just occurred to her. "Oh, were you just thinking I'm not cut out for it?"
"Uh, no, not really. Nothing like that." Her smile made me stumble. Well, you can't judge people on appearances, and dismissing an anime based on character designs is foolish. In order to discard my preconceptions, I surreptitiously averted my eyes from Isshiki.
She seemed quite miffed about that, putting a hand to her hip with a sullen look as she leaned forward to continue talking. "I get that a lot, so I get it, you know. People think I'm ditzy and slow…" Oh, this is a bad one.
Though she gave the appearance of being a fluffy, pleasant type, she had her youthfulness on at full blast, with a firm grasp on what it was to be a modern high school girl. Her skirt was a little over kneelength, her makeup was light with an aim for a natural look, the arms of her cream-colored cardigan were a tad too long, and the ribbon at her collar was tied loose enough that her collarbone might or might not peek out, giving her an edge of vulnerability. And though she came off as all sweet, she was also overly familiar—or maybe affable is a better word—to engender a warmer relationship with older girls like Yuigahama, too.
…Yeah. She's dangerous.
She is the high school girl—used to attention and playing the character people want from her. That open display of a gentle nature and slightly reserved femininity reminds you that it's contrived, prevents you from peeking behind it.
Based off my past experiences, I know this type is highly likely to be a minefield.
Just as those who like to describe themselves as real or savage are really insensitive human garbage, those who go out of their way to define themselves even though nobody ever asked are generally good-for-nothings. Self-professed ditzy types are more of the same.
While I'm at it, the sort of idiot who inexplicably declares I'm a real funny guy also fits into this category. These self-professed funny guys will go, like, Heyoooo or something, half laughing as they smack you in the back of the head, and the way they'll smirk and quote some stupid TV show when you're just having a conversation is really annoying. These morons who like to pretend they're comedians are particularly obnoxious. They often mistakenly believe that messing with people makes them so funny, but a defining trait of this type is that when other people mess with them, they get angry for real.
What is this useless extra explanation?
Well. In other words. My impression of Iroha Isshiki was kind of false and chilly.
But it seemed none of the others particularly saw her that way. Well, I suppose I'm overreacting.
"…So do you have some issue?" Yukinoshita, who had been silently listening to Isshiki talk, unfolded her arms to slowly lay them on the desk. She must have been impatient, and something about her tone told me she was irritated.
Upon realizing they had yet to get to the point of this conversation, Meguri hurriedly added, "Isshiki has announced her candidacy, but…well, um…how should I put this? …She wants to make it so that she doesn't get elected." Meguri must have been at a loss as to how to explain this, as her manner of speaking was a little vague.
I considered the meaning of someone announcing their candidacy without wanting to win. "Agh… Basically, you want us to make you lose the election?" I asked. This was the natural conclusion to reach.
Meguri nodded.
Yuigahama, who'd been listening, went "Hmm?" as she tilted her head in confusion. "Um…does that mean you don't want to be the student council president?"
"Oh yeah. That's right." Being acquainted with Yuigahama must have made Isshiki feel at ease with her, as she replied casually, without any shyness. But watching, I got a bad feeling. Even if there was some reason for this situation, at the very least, hers was not the right attitude for someone who had announced their candidacy for student council president.
"…So why run?"
Isshiki flinched at Yukinoshita's critical tone. "Ummmm, I didn't make myself a candidate. Some people nominated me without asking…," she said, acting embarrassed and shy about it for some reason, and I couldn't hide my apathy toward her situation.
The hell? What kind of pop-idol story is this?
But it seemed Isshiki wasn't paying attention to my gaze—or rather, she wasn't paying attention to me at all as she put a finger to her cheek, humming in a pensive manner. "I kinda stand out in a bad way, I guess? I get a lot of that stuff. Since I'm the manager of the soccer club, and I'm friends with Hayama and the older guys, I guess I've ended up making people think I'm the type, sooo lots of people say I'd be good at that?"
She was being really vague, but I made my best effort to understand. There was only one thing she said that I was somewhat curious about. "…So they bullied you into it?"
"It's not like that. It just sort of happened, like they got carried away? A bunch of my friends in the class got together and were joking around, I guess." As Isshiki spoke, she stuck up her pointer finger and put it to her chin, tilting her head. The way she drawled and made everything sound like a question was starting to make my head hurt.
So basically, what's she trying to say…?
"So I really think this time was something like that, too?" Okay. I don't get it.
I didn't get it, but basically, I figured it was like, I'm the Class Clown and I Somehow Got Roped Into Being the Student Council President!
Superlong titles aren't in style anymore, though, so forget it…
It's a common enough story, letting a situation spiral out of control because you weren't using your head. Apparently, this was another mistake due to one's youth, too.
But you know.
…She really seemed like the type who girls would hate.
I got that. I could understand that.
It was like, you know.
A sweet-acting bitch in airhead's clothing. A gentle and pure bitch. There were girls like that in my middle school, too, and they always had boys wrapped around their little fingers. Boys aren't jewelry, okay? Even Grander Musashi doesn't get bites like that on the first cast. They fished up so many, it was like, What kind of lures are you using?
So even if things had reached this point because her class got carried away, I'm sure there was plenty of malice involved.
"Wait, are you allowed to nominate someone without permission?" Yuigahama asked, lightly raising her hand.
Miss Hiratsuka folded her arms and breathed a short sigh. "When the paperwork was submitted, she didn't check it herself."
"Urk… If we had been a little more thorough…we might've…we just…" Meguri moaned in shame.
By we, she must have meant the election management committee, not that old Nintendo console.
Miss Hiratsuka patted the drooping Meguri on the shoulder. "Well, nobody thought anyone would do something like this as a prank. I think it would be a little harsh to blame the election management committee."
"I did make sure to check the nominator register, though," Meguri said despondently.
There was an unfamiliar term in there, so I asked back, "Nominator register?"
"Yes, when announcing candidacy, you need a list of your nominators, and we do check those references." So first you need nominations, huh?
But that made sense. It'd be an issue if someone who wasn't popular was suddenly like, I'm gonna be the president! They'd probably established that system in order to cut out the chaff ahead of time.
So then this would be a necessary condition to accept a candidate. Or to put it the other way, this meant as long as you had that list, you could run.
The current student council were all there because they wanted to be, so they must not have thought anyone would submit those documents with such mischievous ends. Sometimes you'll encounter people out there who are stupider than you'd ever imagined. It's a scary thing.
"That's quite involved for a prank, though. I thought it required at least thirty recommendations in order to nominate a candidate," Yukinoshita said, her tone grave. It seemed I wasn't the only horrified one here.
"That many? I'm impressed they got them all…," Yuigahama commented, half-exasperated and half-horrified.
But it wasn't anything particularly amazing.
It's simply easier to unite people with malice rather than goodwill. And if their idea was to rake Isshiki over the coals because they believed she was getting full of herself, then all the more so. Those people would have written their names down with the casual ease of a retweet. It's like the malicious version of slacktivism.
While I was groaning internally, Miss Hiratsuka's expression turned a little more serious. "Of course, I will be speaking with the kids who pulled this. Call it fortunate or what, the signatures of the thirty nominators were real."
"They wrote their real names on it? Idiots…," I muttered.
"They must not have thought it would be a big deal. No imaginations," Miss Hiratsuka said with a wry smile.
Well, fair enough. There's a lot of that going around lately. Like people who upload photos of themselves inside their workplace fridges or being dicks at a restaurant onto Twitter. Exposing your real name and a photo of your face on the Internet and bragging about your crimes, it's like, Why are you putting up a wanted poster for yourself?
"Um, can't you invalidate it? Isn't there anything you can do to drop out of the running?" Yuigahama said, and Isshiki readily took a step forward.
Earnestly, she said, "About that…my homeroom teacher kinda got on board with the idea and has been really pushing me to go along with it? When I said I wasn't going to do it, the pressure just got worse… Like, wouldn't you understand when no one in the class is willing to do the campaign speech? And it's like, what's support from the teacher gonna do, right?"
Oh, so that's what's going on. That thing when you say you're gonna quit your job, and you get this passionate attempt from the manager to stop you. They go so hard, it's like they can't stand to be short one person, and they get all passionate and extra kind as they try to put a positive spin on it and persuade you in so many ways, like, Let's do our best! Let's work hard together! And then when you keep acting reluctant, they'll suddenly get angry at you instead, and it turns into a lecture, like, Oh dear, this sort of thing isn't going to work in your future, you know?
In the end, you can't bring yourself to quit, and all you can do is shirk out…(faraway look).
Beside Isshiki, Miss Hiratsuka was scratching her cheek and looking embarrassed. "I spoke with Isshiki's homeroom teacher, but…well, um, let's just say listening isn't this person's strong point."
"Oh, I see…" I got her drift and responded appropriately, and Miss Hiratsuka shamefully dropped her eyes to the floor.
"It seems Isshiki's teacher has mentally composed a moving story about it already… I had to listen to a babbling tale about some success story where a timid student is supported by the teacher and the whole class and becomes student council president…"
Oh, one of those, huh…? There's nothing worse than someone who believes they're doing the right thing.
"So once she reached the end of her rope, Isshiki talked with Shiromeguri," Miss Hiratsuka said. Meguri and Isshiki nodded.
It sounded like Meguri had heard the story from Isshiki, and unsure as to how to deal with it, she'd gone to talk with Miss Hiratsuka, who brought the situation to us.
"So then you probably can't withdraw," I said.
Isshiki's teacher wasn't likely to let this go without a fight. But it seemed that wasn't the only problem. Meguri was wrapping her pigtail around her finger uneasily. "Hmm… Besides…there's also the question of how she could withdraw…"
"Agh…"
As I was thinking about why that was an issue, Yukinoshita put her hand to her jaw and slowly began to speak, as if she was summarizing her thoughts. "Is it because there is nothing written in the election protocol about the withdrawal of candidacy?"
Meguri blinked, startled. "Wow, you know, Yukinoshita… Yes, it was never written to begin with…"
I see. Of course, anyone who'd want to be on student council would be a motivated go-getter. Whoever had written up the protocol must not have expected a need to establish and record provisions for something like that. There goes Yukipedia. She really does know everything.
"Oh!" Yuigahama raised her hand and said, "Ah, so then you can't make it so that she can't be president 'cause she's a first-year?"
But Yukinoshita gave her a grim shake of the head. "You can't." "Huh? Why not?" Yuigahama asked back, puzzled.
Meguri smiled weakly and answered, "That's not in the protocol, either… There's nothing that says the president can only be a second-year."
"In other words, it's simply been customary for a second-year student to run for student council president," Yukinoshita supplemented. This convinced Yuigahama, and she frowned a little.
There was a tacit understanding of that convention, but since it hadn't been stipulated in writing, they wouldn't be able to use that as a shield to invalidate Isshiki's candidacy. So since it couldn't be legally invalidated by loopholes in the protocol, that meant we just had to tackle this the hard way.
"If you don't want to do it, then you should lose the election," I said. "Or rather, that's all you can do." This was the surest route. No matter how much you wanted to be student council president, you couldn't do it if you didn't win the election. In other words, the most effective way to avoid becoming president would be to lose the election.
But Meguri lowered her eyelids. "Hmm… But Isshiki is the only candidate in this election…"
Yukinoshita took over from there. "Meaning a vote of confidence."
"Yes, so it's just about inevitable…"
A vote of confidence is a method for when there is only one candidate. Unlike what you would typically imagine—a ballot where you select from multiple candidates—you simply indicate whether you approve of the candidate or not by marking a circle or X on the ballot sheet.
With elections like this, everyone will generally circle it without a thought. Of course, I'm sure some people would put an X to be funny, but I'd say they're in the minority. As long as you secure the majority, you can win confidence, so it's a foregone conclusion, barring any major issues.
But even so.
"Well, if you want to lose, there is a way to do it, though…," I said.
But Isshiki didn't seem to like that idea, pouting with her cheeks puffed up. "Wait, but I'd look dumb losing a vote of confidence! The fact that it's a vote of confidence is pretty shabby to begin with… That'd be too embarrassing. I don't want that."
Wow, selfish. Isn't that the sort of thing that got you into this situation? I started to think for a second, but the form had in fact been submitted without Isshiki's permission, so she wasn't at fault. Of course, I'm sure there had been a number of issues that had led to this happening to her, but even so, it wasn't right to be forced to be president when you didn't want to, or to be unnecessarily hurt by having a vote of nonconfidence thrust upon you. So it wasn't as if her feelings weren't understandable. So you shouldn't have to resign yourself to the absurdity thrust upon you by the majority.
So then we couldn't have her simply lose.
"All that's been announced so far is the candidates' names, right?" I checked with Meguri in order to gather my thoughts.
"Huh? Yes, that's right."
"So it hasn't been decided yet who will do Isshiki's campaign speech."
"Nope." Meeting my gaze, Meguri shook her head. But there was a question mark floating there, and it seemed she hadn't figured out the point of my questions.
But this was enough for me. I had all the information I needed. "Then it'll be fast and easy."
"Um, what do you mean?" she asked.
I organized my thoughts in detail and proceeded to explain. "This just means that worst case, if it ends up as a vote of confidence, we have to make sure Isshiki loses without looking bad, right? Basically, everyone simply has to understand she wasn't the reason behind the vote of nonconfidence."
"Can you do that?" Yuigahama, who'd been listening silently until then, asked.
I nodded in response. "If the election speech is what keeps her from getting elected, then nobody will care about Isshiki." You just had to replace the reason for her defeat, the cause of the rejection, the why of her repudiation.
And there was something I could do about that.
Before I explained my methods in specifics, I paused for a moment.
It wasn't to gather my thoughts, or even to take a breath, or for effect.
I'd simply noticed an unsettling silence.
Yuigahama was quiet. She stared at me intently with sadness in her eyes before looking down as if she'd swallowed something bitter. Meguri seemed to notice this change in her and glanced between me and Yuigahama in confusion. Isshiki must have been tuned in to what was going on, too, as she twisted around uncomfortably.
And then there was a soft clicking sound.
I twitched over toward the sound to see Yukinoshita laying her arms on the desk. When she'd unfolded her arms, the button of her blazer sleeve had tapped against the desk.
In the silence, it had sounded particularly loud.
And in the still, quiet room, Yukinoshita's voice sounded out. "I won't accept that solution."
My eyebrows pulled together at her accusatory, condemning manner of speaking. "…Why not?" I asked.
"…Well…"
I hadn't meant to cross-examine her, but my tone had sharpened anyway. Yukinoshita looked away for an instant. Her long eyelashes quietly quavered as she blinked.
But that was the briefest of moments. She immediately looked back at me, fixing her gaze on me with eyes that communicated even stronger determination than before. "…Because it's not certain. You couldn't know for sure it would end up a vote of nonconfidence. Besides, a horrible speech costing Isshiki the vote would make things awkward for her. And even if votes against her were in the majority, do you think they would go to the trouble of holding another election? I doubt there's any precedent for that. And… And there's so little interest in student council, nobody would care if they declared the results without publicizing the number of votes… In other words, if you wanted, you could easily—" Yukinoshita rapidly made her argument longer and longer as she held me with that sharp gaze. It was as if she was lining up every reason she could think of.
Miss Hiratsuka chided her kindly. "Yukinoshita."
"…I shouldn't have said that. I retract that," Yukinoshita said after a pause. Then she bowed her head at Meguri. Meguri smiled and shook her head.
I suppose that could be called a faux pas. She'd been about to say in front of Meguri, who was on the election committee, If you wanted, the school could easily fudge the election.
A chair creaked.
I saw Yuigahama's face pointed toward me. However, even though we were facing each other, our eyes did not meet. "Hey, so who would do that speech anyway…? I don't like that idea." The weak and feeble question lingered unpleasantly in my ears.
"Well…whoever can do it should, right?" I said, but I knew full well who was most fit for the job. I didn't need to bother spelling out who'd be the most effective there.
The sun must have descended a bit, as suddenly a shadow fell across the clubroom. It felt as if the artificial lighting of the fluorescent bulbs had intensified.
Suddenly, Yukinoshita raised her head. "Shiromeguri. If Isshiki isn't going to withdraw, I believe we'll need a new candidate." "Yeah, that's right…," Meguri replied.
Yukinoshita breathed a short sigh and said, "So then we have to back another candidate to make this a ballot election."
"If someone was even interested, then they would've already announced candidacy," I pointed out. "And by 'back another candidate,' do you mean we're gonna go around asking every single person?"
"But, um, if we go for people who seem like they might do it…," Yuigahama replied, mulling over it hesitantly.
"…Well, whatever. So what if you find someone who'll run? Can they win? I think you understand that high school student council elections are basically popularity contests." I glanced over at Isshiki.
This was a surprisingly high hurdle.
At first glance, Isshiki was cute. Most people would call her fairly pretty. And her fluffy gentleness and lively cheer made her probably one of the most popular in the school in the boys' minds.
In a high school student council election, the competition is not about campaign pledges or manifestos or whatever. You could campaign on promises to change school regulations, but everyone knows that's highly unlikely to happen. Candidates will bring up all sorts of stuff like eliminating school uniforms or making school rules laxer or letting you go on the roof or whatever, but there's no precedent for any of that having been actualized.
So then clearly, the election would end up being a simple popularity contest between the candidates, or it would be based on the organizational power of their friendships.
For a popularity contest of that sort, the first people to come to mind with good prospects of victory would be Hayama or Miura. But Hayama was in the soccer club, and as captain, too. Miura being Miura, she was not the type to be student council president, either. So then that would mean going for the lesser figures, but those options would be less reliable. What's more, we couldn't just find them and ask them to do it.
There was still another problem remaining.
"By the election date, you have to pick someone, negotiate with them, and campaign. Do you think you can do all that? And you have to be sure to win. If there was someone, a realistic option to rely on, that'd be fine. But right now you don't have anyone, do you?" I said, certain it was impossible. The more I tried to speak calmly, the heavier my tone got. Though I hadn't at all meant it to sound accusatory, my words had a sharp edge.
"Um, Hikigaya?" Meguri said to me, sounding a bit surprised. That made me realize that to someone else, I'd look irritated.
"…" Yukinoshita and Yuigahama both fell silent.
They probably understood without my even saying it. If you considered the matter and you were well versed in the affairs of the school, you'd get it. But despite that, we were silent, unable to give the clear answer.
A heavy air hung over us.
In the corner of my eye, I saw Isshiki breathe a tired sigh. She was reminding us how awkward she felt, silently asking, Why do I have to be here? Seeing someone else's fatigue infected me, too, and I found myself sighing as well.
"It seems we won't reach a conclusion immediately," Miss Hiratsuka said, pushing herself away from the wall she'd been leaning against this whole time. As if taking her quiet hup as a signal, we all folded our legs the other way or stretched a little.
Yukinoshita adjusted herself in her seat and then addressed Meguri. "…Shiromeguri, would you mind coming another time?"
"Huh? Oh, sure… Of course," Meguri replied, a little confused, and Miss Hiratsuka gently pushed her in the back.
"Well then, let's leave this for another day. Let's go, Shiromeguri, Isshiki."
Right before the teacher was about to leave the clubroom, taking the two girls with her, Yukinoshita called out to her. Her expression was more frigid than usual, creating a sense of fervid intensity around her. "Miss Hiratsuka. Do you have a moment?"
"Oh, then I'll get going." Meguri must have sensed something was up, as she took Isshiki and left the clubroom.
Miss Hiratsuka watched them go before turning back to us. "Okay, let's hear what you have to say." She pulled out a chair with a scrape and folded her long legs.
The room seemed to have darkened a little. By contrast, the open sky out the window was a brilliant red. As we approached winter solstice, the night came earlier day by day.
Miss Hiratsuka patiently waited for Yukinoshita to begin.
The tea had already entirely chilled, and nobody was reaching out to the arranged snacks. I could hear the needle of the clock ticking and, occasionally, a tired sigh from someone.
Some length of time passed, and finally, Yukinoshita opened her mouth. "I remembered something." "Huh? What?" I asked.
Yukinoshita didn't answer me, turning back to Miss Hiratsuka instead. "How is the competition going right now?"
"Competition?" The question made Miss Hiratsuka blink. Me and Yuigahama did, too. Why were we suddenly talking about competitions now?
But after a bit of thinking, I figured it out.
For us, the only competition was that competition from way back. Which of us could help more people with problems, who could serve people better. And the victor could get the loser to do whatever they wanted. That was established when I'd first joined the Service Club.
"Um…competition?" Yuigahama said, examining us.
Oh yeah. The rules of the competition had been changed at some point.
"A competition for who can serve others best, who can resolve people's problems. You're allowed to get people to help you, and whoever wins can get the others to do whatever they want," I said quite concisely.
Yuigahama made a noise somewhere between surprise and confusion. "You had a competition going, huh…?" It seemed Miss Hiratsuka hadn't told her about it. Well, I could get an idea as to why she hadn't.
Looking over at the culprit, Miss Hiratsuka, she seemed rather flustered. "O-oh yeah…" She folded her arms, tilted her head, and groaned. "H-hmm, what about that~? W-well, you dealt with things together a lot of the time! Mm-hmm. I feel like everyone's doing a good job, yep."
"…" Yukinoshita's cold expression did not falter as she silently gave Miss Hiratsuka a hard look.
"…Agh." Miss Hiratsuka breathed a tired sigh. It seemed she'd intended to avoid this question, but she capitulated to Yukinoshita's serious glare.
But it was true that lately, a lot of things had made it hard to see how the competition should be judged. We'd more often operated as the Service Club, as a whole, rather than each of us acting individually.
But still, it seemed Yukinoshita wouldn't permit such ambiguity. She continued applying her silent pressure, and Miss Hiratsuka turned to face her again. "I haven't been aware of everything you've done, including some of your requests. So I'm being honest when I say strictly speaking, I couldn't make a judgment. But…" Miss Hiratsuka paused.
"But?" Yukinoshita prompted her to continue.
Miss Hiratsuka gazed at each of us in turn and slowly said, "I told you that the basis for my judgment would be my own biased and arbitrary opinions. So I can offer you comparative evaluations."
"I don't mind that… Are you two fine with that as well?" Yukinoshita gave us a sidelong glance.
I had no objections. It seemed Yuigahama hadn't quite absorbed the situation, but she still nodded in agreement.
Confirming each of our responses, Miss Hiratsuka nodded, too. "If we're going purely by results, then Hikigaya is one step ahead. If we're considering the process and follow-up more, then Yukinoshita would be winning. And either way, without Yuigahama's contributions, none of it would have come together…"
That was a bit of a surprising evaluation. She was being kinder than I'd expected.
Of course, if you were considering things comprehensively, it would probably not be as good, but even so, this arbitration was nothing like what I had anticipated.
When I looked around to see how the others felt about this, I saw Yuigahama looking pensive and meek.
Yukinoshita, on the other hand, was still sitting firmly upright, eyes closed, not even twitching. And then slowly, in a voice lacking any emotion or inflection, she asked quietly, "…In other words, the contest isn't over yet?"
"That's right," Miss Hiratsuka replied.
As if pressing her for an answer, Yukinoshita said, "If the competition is still ongoing, that means this time, we may be permitted to have divided opinions on this matter, doesn't it?"
"Um, what do you mean?" Yuigahama's shoulders cringed a bit, anxiously. Like Yuigahama, I couldn't guess as to what Yukinoshita meant, so I waited for what she'd say next.
Yukinoshita glanced over at Yuigahama, and then without looking at me, she said, "I mean there's no need for us to adopt the same methods."
She was completely right. We'd never had any obligation to cooperate in the first place, and we hadn't established a precedent of cooperating well together, either. I think that was just the sort of relationship we had. "Yeah, that makes sense. There's no point in us forcing ourselves to work together," I agreed.
"…Indeed," Yukinoshita replied briefly. And with that, the conversation was over.
Miss Hiratsuka seemed to consider that response for a while but then sighed in resignation. "Nothing I say will make a difference anyway. You kids do what you please. So what'll you do about the club until you resolve this?" she asked.
Without taking time to think, as if she'd decided this beforehand, Yukinoshita immediately answered, "I suppose attendance could be voluntary."
"…Yeah, that sounds fair." Miss Hiratsuka accepted that, too. At the very least, I doubted there was a point in all of us sitting around here in silence anyway, not at this stage. If each of us had our own ways of doing things, then we wouldn't have to bother coming to this clubroom. I had no objections.
I took up my bag and left my usual seat at the very edge of the room. "Then I'm going home."
"Ah, h-hey, hold on!" Yuigahama stood, chair scraping on the floor. It looked like she would come toward me, so I gently stopped her.
"…You should think this over carefully, too."
"Huh…?" Yuigahama merely stood there. Did she understand the meaning of what I'd said? I was talking about more than this particular incident.
We should probably be thinking about the future, too.
I continued out the door without saying anything back to Yuigahama.
Behind me, there was a murmur. "Playing friendly was supposed to be the thing you and I both hated most…"
Yukinoshita's words made me turn around automatically.
Her sad smile seemed somehow self-deprecating. I had no words of reply and quietly closed the door.