บท 13: Even so, the class is doing well.
I finally understood what this Service Club or whatever did.
In short, it was apparently for advising students and helping them solve their problems. But its existence wasn't particularly advertised. I mean, I
hadn't known about it. And it wasn't just because I was disconnected from
the campus hive-mind. Yuigahama hadn't been aware of it, either, so that
meant that we needed someone to connect us to the students, and that
someone was Ms. Hiratsuka. Students went to her with their problems from
time to time, and she'd send them on to us.
So in other words, the club was an isolation ward.
In that sanatorium, I was, as usual, reading a book.
Receiving counseling on your worries was basically just exposing your
insecurities. High school students are sensitive, so telling them to talk to
other students from the same school about their problems was probably just
too much to ask. Yuigahama had come because Ms. Hiratsuka had introduced
her to us. Without the teacher's involvement, nobody would ever visit.
There were no guests today, either. The shop was open for business, but
none was forthcoming. Both Yukinoshita and I were comfortable with
silence, so it was very quiet while we focused on our reading, which was why
the hard rap on the door rang out so loudly.
"Yahallo!" She pulled open the sliding door with her insipid,
concentration-killing greeting. It was Yui Yuigahama. I averted my eyes from
the legs protruding from her short skirt and switched instead to gape at the
widely open blouse on her chest. Slutty as usual.
Seeing her, Yukinoshita let out a grand sigh. "…What is it?"
"Huh? What? That's not much of a welcome… Yukinoshita, do you…
hate me?"
Yuigahama's voice was subdued, but Yukinoshita heard her nonetheless.
When the girl's shoulders began trembling, Yukinoshita gestured as if deep
in thought before annoucing in her usual monotone, "I don't hate you. I
just…find you difficult, maybe."
"That means exactly the same thing in girl speak!" Yuigahama flailed. It
seemed she really didn't want to be hated. She looked like a prostitute, but
her reactions were very much akin to those of a normal girl.
"So? Why are you here?"
"Well, I'm super into cooking right now, aren't I?"
"You are? This is news to me."
"So this is, like…thanks for the other day? I made some cookies, so I was
wondering if you wanted some."
Yukinoshita went pale as a sheet. If someone brought up Yuigahama's
cooking, the first thing that came to mind was those charred, iron-like
cookies. Just remembering them, both my throat and heart dried up.
"I don't really have much of an appetite, so it's okay. I appreciate the
sentiment." Most likely she'd only just lost her appetite following the
mention of Yuigahama's cookies. Not calling attention to that part was
probably her way of being kind.
Indifferent to Yukinoshita's firm refusal, Yuigahama hummed as she
plucked a cellophane-clad package out of her bag. The cutely wrapped thing
was, indeed, pitch-black. "Man, trying it was so fun, you know! I'm thinking
I'll try making a bento lunch or something later! Oh, so, Yukinon, let's have
lunch together!"
"No, I like eating alone, so that would be a little much. And 'Yukinon' is
creepy, so stop it."
"No way! Aren't you lonely? Where do you eat, Yukinon?"
"In the clubroom…and were you listening to what I just said?"
"Oh, so, like, I'm free after school, so I'll help you with your club stuff.
Oh, geez, this is, like…a thanks? This is my thanks, so don't worry about it at
all!"
"Are you listening?" Yukinoshita, clearly stunned by Yuigahama's
surging, all-out attack, glanced in my direction. It seemed as though she
wanted me to do something about Yuigahama.
There's no way I'm helping you.
You're always spitting venom at me, you didn't pay me back for the
Veggie Lifestyle…and she's your friend.
Seriously, though, I thought Yuigahama was coming to thank her like this
because Yukinoshita had sincerely tried to help her with her problem.
Yukinoshita was both entitled and obligated to accept that thanks. It would
have been wrong for me to get in the way of that.
I shut my paperback and quietly stood. Offering a parting, inaudible
"Bye" in my wake, I attempted to leave the clubroom.
"Oh, Hikki!" I heard my name, and when I turned, a black object was
flying at my face. Reflexively, I grabbed it.
"Consider that my thanks, I guess? 'Cuz you helped me, too, Hikki."
I examined the package of black, heart-shaped something's. They smelled
ominous and looked vaguely sinister, but if this was her thanks, I'd accept them with gratitude.
But don't call me Hikki.
***
The bell rang, and fourth period ended. All at once, an air of relief began
flowing through the class. Some students dashed off to the school store, some
rearranged their desks and spread out their lunch boxes, and others went off
to other classrooms. Lunch on this particular day in Class 2-F was bustling
and noisy, as usual.
On days like today, when it rained, I had nowhere to go. I had the perfect
spot where I usually went to eat my lunch, but obviously, I wasn't interested
in getting soaked while I ate. Left with no alternative, I munched on my
convenience store pastry alone in the class.
Usually, on rainy days like this, I would spend my lunch reading a novel
or some manga, but I'd left the book I was reading in the clubroom the day
before. Maybe I should have gone to get it during our ten-minute break
period. It was a little too late for that now, though. "Too little, too late," as the Americans would say. Wait—that's basically what I just said!
I'm playing both sides of a comedy duo all on my own here. That's how
bored I am. You know, I've always thought that when you spend long periods
of time by yourself, you just naturally end up doing things without requiring
other people.
When I'm at home, I talk to myself a lot. I sing loudly by myself. So
often, when my sister comes home, I'll be like "MORE! MOR–welcome
home." Obviously, I don't sing at school.
So instead, I think a lot.
I'd even say that to be a loner is to be a master of contemplating. As man
is a thinking reed, he ponders things without even realizing. And precisely
because the loner does not expend mental resources thinking about other
people, his thoughts become that much deeper. This means that loners come
to have different thought patterns than more social types, and sometimes that
leads them to unique ideas that ordinary people wouldn't come up with.
It's difficult to convey a large amount of information through the limited
method of expression that is conversation. It's just like how a computer
works. It takes time to upload a huge amount of data to a server or to send it
via e-mail. That's why loners tend to be somewhat lacking in conversation
skills. That's all it is. I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing. Computers
aren't just for sending e-mails. There's also the Internet and Photoshop. What
I'm saying is, don't judge people based on that sole trait.
I used a computer as a metaphor there, but I don't actually know a lot
about them. The ones who did were those guys crowded together in the front
row of the classroom. And by "those guys," I was referring to the ones who'd
brought their PSPs for a hunt on their ad-hoc Wi-Fi. I think their names were,
like, Oda and Tahara or something.
"Hey! Use the hammer!"
"The gun lance was more than enough to waste him. ^ ^"
They seemed to be having very much fun indeed. I play that game, too,
and honestly, I'd have liked to join them. It wasn't too long ago that manga,
anime, and games were the province of loners.
Lately, however, they've been
turning into a sort of communication tool, and
communication skills would
be required in order to join people like them. Sadly, because I'm not quite as
ugly as I could be, if I were to try to join them, they'd start saying stuff
behind my back like He's not for real and What a faux-taku. What do you guys expect me to do about it, seriously?
When we were in middle school, I saw those guys talking about anime, so
I tried to join in, but when I did, they both fell conspicuously silent. It was
painful. Ever since then, I'd given up on trying to ingratiate myself with
them.
I was never the kind of kid who'd burst out with Let me play! so I'm not
about to start now. When we played kickball on recreational days, there was
this rule that two of the leader types among the boys would play rock-paper-
scissors to decide who got first pick for his team. I was always left for last.
As a ten-year-old, I'd think to myself, I wonder when I'm gonna get picked?
So pathetic you could cry, am I right?
As a result, though I'm reasonably athletic, I became bad at sports. I like
baseball and stuff, but I have no one to play with. So when I was little, I
played baseball all by myself, doing nothing but bouncing balls against walls
and doing solo fielding practice, making liberal use of ghost runners and
ghost defense men.
But there was another race in class quite adept at that sort of
communication. The crowd sitting in the back were of that variety. There
were two guys from soccer club, two guys from the basketball club, and three
girls. One glance, and you could tell by their fashion-conscious appearances
that they were the top caste in this classroom. By the way, Yuigahama was
one of them.
Two among this herd were particularly dazzling. First, Hayato Hayama.
That was the name of the clique's alpha. He was the ace of the soccer team
and would soon be a candidate for captain. He was not someone who'd make
you feel good about yourself after staring at him for a long time.
Basically, he was good-looking and stylish in a casual way. Fuck that guy.
"Man, I don't think I can make it today. I've got club and stuff."
"C'mon, you can skip one day, right? There's, like, a two-scoop sale
today at Thirteen and One Flavors. I want a chocolate and cocoa double
scoop."
"Both of those are chocolate. (LOL)"
"Huh? They're totally different! And I'm, like, so hungry." That loud
voice was Hayama's other half, Yumiko Miura.
Her blonde hair was arranged in ringlet curls, and her uniform top was
deliberately pulled down to show so much shoulder that I was like, What are you, a samurai-era prostitute? Her skirt was so short you had to wonder what
was the point of wearing it at all. Miura had a pretty and shapely face, but she
dressed so slutty and acted so stupid, I wasn't fond of her. Actually, I was
genuinely scared of her. I felt like anything could come out of her mouth.
But Hayama apparently didn't see Miura as someone fearsome. Rather,
from what I could tell, he regarded her as a friend who was as outgoing and
affable as he was. This was exactly why I didn't understand the guys on the
upper rungs of the food chain. No matter how you looked at it, she only acted
that way because she was hanging out with him. In my presence, she would
have killed me with a single snort. Well, there was no reason for her to
associate with me, so she'd never talk to me, anyway, and I was fine with
that.
Hayama and Miura continued to shoot the breeze.
"Sorry, not today," Hayama said, taking control of the conversation again.
Miura stared at him, nonplussed.
Then the blond beside her ruffled up his hair and piped up with, "We're
serious about going to Nationals this year."
What? Nationals? I mean, the city of Kunitachi uses the same characters
as the word nationals, so maybe he was referring to Kunitachi, as in a
location in the Tokyo Metropolitan Area that you could reach via the Chuo
line. Because there was no way he could seriously think his team was going
to Nationals.
"Bwa-ha…" An involuntary chuckle welled up in my throat. Oh man, he
had this look on his face like I am so cool for saying that. It was so bad. The
worst. Inexcusable.
"Plus, Yumiko…if you eat too much, you'll regret it."
"I don't get fat, no matter how much I eat. Aw, there's just nothing to do
today but eat! Right, Yui?"
"Yeah, it's true, it's true. You've got a great figure, Yumiko. But I've got
some plans today, so…"
"I know, right? There's just nothing to do but stuff our faces!" Miura said,
and everyone laughed as if they'd been ordered to. It was just like the kind of
hollow laughter you hear on a variety show laugh track. It was awfully loud,
as if they'd just been cued to [laugh here] by the teleprompter.
I wasn't really trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. They were just
so loud, I couldn't help but overhear. Actually, both nerds and normies tend to get loud when they're gathered in a group. There was no one near where I
was seated, enthroned in the center of the room, but everything around me
was a total commotion. It was as though I were in the eye of a hurricane.
From the middle of his group, Hayama flashed that smile that everyone
loved. "Don't eat too much and make yourself sick."
"I told you, I'm fine no matter how much I eat. And I don't get fat. Right,
Yui?"
"Yeah, like, Yumiko has, like, the figure of a goddess, for real. Her legs
are so pretty. So, I, um…"
"What? I dunno… There's that girl, Yukinoshita or whatever her name is.
Don't you think she's got it going on?"
"Oh, that's true. Yukino's totally got it."
Silence.
"Oh, well, but you've got better style, Yumiko," Yuigahama quickly
continued when Miura went quiet, her eyebrow twitching. They were like…a
queen and her maid or something.
But apparently, Yuigahama's backpedalling was insufficient to placate the
queen's bruised feelings, and Miura's eyes narrowed in displeasure.
"Well, I guess it's no big deal. If you don't mind going after club's over,
I'll come with you," Hayama offered casually as if sensing the tense
atmosphere.
That appeared to placate the queen, who chirped, "Okay! Then text me,
okay?" with a smile, and the conversation recommenced.
Yuigahama, who'd been looking like she was trying to hide, breathed a
sigh of relief.
Hey, hey, that looked really rough. What is this, a feudal society? If you
have to tiptoe around like that in order to become a normie, I'm fine being a
loner forever.
When Yuigahama raised her head, our eyes met. When she saw my face,
she took a deep breath, as if having made up her mind about something.
"Um, I…I've got somewhere to go during lunch, so…"
"Oh, do you? Then buy one of those things on your way back…a lemon
tea. I forgot to bring a drink today, and I'm eating a pastry, so it's hard to eat
without some tea, y'know?"
"H-huh? But, like…I'm coming back when fifth starts…like…I'll be gone
all lunch, so I kinda sorta dunno if I can…" Yuigahama hesitated, and in an instant, Miura's face stiffened. Her expression mirrored the betrayal one
might expect to see on a dog owner who'd just been bitten by her pet.
Yuigahama, who'd probably never disputed anything Miura had ever said
before, was suddenly denying a request.
"What? Uh…wait a minute. Huh? Like, didn't you say the same thing a
while ago and bail on us after school? You're not being very social lately."
"Well, that was, like, sort of circumstances beyond my control, and I'm
sorry, but I've got some personal business to attend to…" Yuigahama's reply
rambled along. What was she, some white-collar office flunky?
But Yuigahama's explanations actually had the opposite effect intended,
and Miura began tapping her nails on the desk in irritation. The queen's
sudden explosion silenced the entire class. The Oda and Tahara (or whoever)
I mentioned earlier deliberately switched off the sound on their PSPs.
Hayama and hangers-on all dropped their gazes awkwardly to the floor. The
sole sound audible in class was the restless, repetitious tapping of Miura's
long nails atop the desk.
"I don't get what that's supposed to mean. If you've got something to say,
then out with it. We're friends, aren't we? And you're, like…hiding stuff like
that? How is that good?"
Yuigahama drooped, downcast.
The things Miura was saying were superficially nice, but in reality, she
was just using their friendship to impose her will on Yuigahama. They were
friends, Yuigahama was one of them, giving Miura free rein to say anything
and do anything. That was what Miura really meant. And behind her words
lurked a hidden threat of If you can't spit it out, you're not one of us, and
therefore our enemy. This was an inquisition, and Yuigahama was being
forced to step on a cross to test her faith.
"Sorry…," Yuigahama repented timidly, looking down.
"Don't just tell me 'sorry.' You have something you want to say, don't
you?"
Nobody would be capable of spitting out what they had to say after
hearing that. This wasn't a conversation, and that wasn't a question. Miura
was just attacking her and forcing her into an apology.
How moronic. Go ahead and destroy each other.
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