Chapter 2: Rebirth of the traditional Classics Club (Part 1)
It's often said that life in high school is rose-colored. As the year 2000 edges towards its inevitable close, the day that embodies such a description, as defined by the annals of Japanese dictionaries, seems but a fleeting breath away.
Yet, in the corridors and classrooms of Kamiyama High, not every student finds themselves yearning for such a life. Amidst the cacophony of academic pursuits, athletic endeavors, and the whispered secrets of burgeoning romance, there exist those who crave the quiet embrace of a gray, unremarkable existence.
A life unburdened by the passions that drive their peers. I count myself among their number, navigating the endless monotony with the ease of familiarity.
On this particular afternoon, the golden embrace of the setting sun spilled through the windows of the classroom, casting elongated shadows that danced and flickered, as if sharing a secret with the lingering dust motes.
In this transient light, I found myself deep in conversation with my old friend, Fukube Satoshi. Satoshi, ever the bearer of a bright, cheerful countenance, stood before me with a mischievous grin painted on his face, his eyes glimmering with the playful light of a thousand jests.
"That's what I thought as well," Satoshi said, his tone as light and careless as a breeze rustling through autumn leaves. "By the way, I never knew you were so masochistic."
His words, though tinged with humor, struck a chord of annoyance. "Are you saying my life is gray-colored?" I asked, not bothering to hide the displeasure that colored my voice.
"Did I say that?" Satoshi replied, his smile broadening, stretching wide like the Cheshire Cat. "But Houtarou, whether it's studying, sports, or what was the other one? Romance? I don't think you've ever been forward-looking in any of those."
I sighed, a long-suffering sound. "I'm not exactly backward-looking either."
"Well, true," Satoshi conceded, his smile now a mere ghost of its former self. His eyes gleamed with a knowing glint. "You're just 'saving energy' after all."
I snorted, a small sound of agreement that acknowledged his observation. To save energy was a principle I held dear, a personal creed that guided my actions. The path of least resistance was the one I invariably chose. "If I don't have to do it, I won't. If I have to do it, make it quick," I recited, my voice as flat as the setting sun outside.
Satoshi shrugged, a casual lift of his shoulders. "Whether it's energy saving or cynicism, it's the same thing, isn't it? Have you ever heard of instrumentalism?"
"Nope," I replied curtly, my attention half diverted to the window and the world beyond.
"In short, it means that for a person like you who has no particular interest, just by observing the fact that you have not joined any club here in Kamiyama High, the Holy Land of high school club activities, makes you a gray-colored person."
"What? Are you saying death from murder is no different from death from negligence?" I retorted, feeling the conversation drifting into the realm of the absurd.
Satoshi answered without hesitation, his tone light, almost dismissive. "From a certain perspective, yeah. Though it's a different matter completely if you're trying to convince a dead person that his death is due to your negligence in order to exorcise his soul."
Cheeky bastard. I gave him a long, considering look.
Fukube Satoshi, my old friend, worthy opponent, and, at times, an infuriating presence. He was shorter than most, a fact that might lead one to mistake him for fragile, or even feminine. But there was a quiet strength within him, a core of confidence that belied his slight frame.
He was always smiling, always carrying that damn drawstring bag, his trademark cheekiness never far behind. Satoshi, a member of the Handicraft Club, don't ask me why. There was a complexity to him that defied easy explanation, a richness that only those who knew him well could begin to appreciate.
Arguing with him was a futile endeavor, a waste of precious energy. I waved my hand dismissively, signaling the end of our conversation. "Yeah, whatever. Just go home already."
Satoshi stretched lazily, his movements cat-like in their languor. "Yeah, you're right. I haven't got any club activities today... maybe I'll go home."
He paused, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he turned to face me. "'Go home already'? That's rare hearing that from you."
"What is?" I asked, my tone guarded.
"If it's going home, wouldn't you usually have done so before even uttering that sentence? Just what business would you have after school when you aren't affiliated with any clubs?"
"Ah," I murmured, more to myself than to him. I reached into the inner right pocket of my uniform jacket and pulled out a piece of paper, its edges slightly frayed. I handed it over to Satoshi, watching as his eyes widened in surprise. Or at least, the appearance of surprise. Satoshi was prone to exaggerated reactions, but I knew him well enough to see through them.
"What?! How can this be?!" he exclaimed, though his tone carried more amusement than genuine shock.
"Satoshi, behave yourself," I said, my voice tinged with impatience.
"Isn't this a club application form? I'm surprised. Just what on earth has happened? For Houtarou to actually join a club..." His voice trailed off, his gaze falling on the club name scrawled across the form.
"The Classics Club...?"
"You heard of it?" I asked, though I knew he would.
"Of course, but, why the Classics Club? Have you suddenly found an interest in classic literature?"
I sighed, running a hand through my hair in a gesture of mild frustration. How to explain the whims of Oreki Tomoe?
I pulled out another piece of paper from the inner left pocket of my jacket, a letter with my sister's distinctive handwriting. I handed it to Satoshi, watching as he read through it, his lips twitching into a smile.
"Haha, Houtarou, now that sure is troublesome. A request from your sister, huh? No way you could refuse that."
Why was he looking so gleeful? My expression must have betrayed my irritation, as Satoshi's smile only grew wider.
This letter from India, an airmail that arrived this morning, had turned my peaceful existence on its head. Oreki Tomoe was like a force of nature, always sending letters that derailed my carefully maintained lifestyle.
'Houtarou, safeguard the Classics Club, the youth of your big sis.'
When I had opened the envelope and read through that brief letter this morning, I became aware of its self-centered content. I had no obligation to safeguard my sister's memories, but...
"What was it that your sis is specialized in? Jujutsu?"
"Aikido and Taiho-jutsu. It can be pretty painful if one has the intent to hurt."
Yup, my sister, a university student proficient in both academics and martial arts, was not content with conquering Japan alone and had decided to go out and challenge the world as well. It would not be wise to incur her fury.
Then again, while I could attempt to resist with what little pride I had, it was also true that I had little reason to oppose her. Indeed, my sister has hit the bullseye by pointing out that I don't have anything better to do anyway. I decided I might as well be an invisible club member rather than an unaffiliated student, and so without hesitation, "I submitted that application this morning."
"You know what this means, Houtarou?" Satoshi said while glancing at my sister's letter. I sighed and said, "Yeah, there doesn't seem to be any benefit from this."
"... No, that's not what I meant." Lifting his gaze from the letter, Satoshi said with a strangely cheerful tone. He tapped the letter with the back of his palm and said, "There are currently no members in the Classics Club, right? This means that you get to keep the club room for yourself. Isn't that great? A private base within school for your own use."
A private base? "... That's an interesting way to look at this."
"Don't you like that?"
Such strange reasoning. Satoshi was basically saying I could have my own secret base in school. I could never come up with such an idea.
A private space, huh? It's not like I really desire such a thing and would strive to work hard for it... But it's not so bad if it comes as a perk. I took back the letter from Satoshi and replied, "Guess it's not so bad. I might go have a look."
"Good. Opportunities are there for you to try out."
Opportunities there to try out, huh? Well, it's not like it doesn't suit my personality at all, so I smiled bitterly and picked up my shoulder bag.
I was still faithful to my own motto.
From the opened windows, the shouts of the Athletics Team could be heard.
"... Fight! Fight! Fight!..."
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