We sent the elementary schoolers home, and then after working a while longer, once I was finished organizing the remaining documents, there was no longer anything else to do.
It seemed the members of the Soubu student council were also at loose ends, killing time with tasks like double-checking and recalculating the budget. The Kaihin kids seemed to be having some kind of vibrant discussion.
And as for my work, I guess that's it for today.
"Isshiki, it doesn't look like there's anything else to do, so can we leave?" I asked her as she was flipping through a stack of papers beside me.
She looked up at the clock, too, and after a moment of consideration, she opened her mouth. "Yeah…let's call it a day."
"Okay. Then I'll see you."
Isshiki gave me a thank-you, and with that, I left the lecture room.
When I exited the community center, I found the rain had already stopped. The streetlights were reflected in the puddle, and the water drops under the eaves were absorbing light. But as beautiful as it was, the sight was somehow chilly.
As I pulled the collar of my jacket together, my feet started off to the bicycle parking, when I realized I hadn't ridden my bicycle there that day. Since it had been raining that morning, I'd taken the train, then transferred to the bus.
As I was walking to the station, I noticed the Maripin. The signs were brightly lit, and when the automatic doors opened, a warm air flowed out from inside the building.
That reminds me—there's a KFC inside the Maripin, too… I'd completely forgotten to reserve our order.
I was earlier than usual, so I figured I'd reserve the tub my mom had asked me for. It was a little far from home, but we could just reheat it in the toaster oven anyway. I'd be the one coming to get it, so this place should be fine. Anyway, coming to get the chicken is a perfect role for myself, the chicken!
I headed into the Marinpia, and people carrying large bags caught my eye—they had to have Christmas sales going on. Casually looking around the mall, I saw where the KFC was and headed straight for it.
With Christmas looming in one week, this time period was peak season for KFC, and there were a few people lining up who looked like they were reserving tubs. Well, it was a perfect place to stop by on your way home from work. It was close to the station, after all. I joined the line and completed my reservation without a hitch.
I'd finished my task. Now to head home.
I started walking to the exit closest to the KFC. The constant flow of people entering and exiting kept the automatic doors open all the time, and it wasn't just shoppers from the first floor. People heading toward the nearby escalator as well as those coming down off it were all mixed together, making it rather crowded.
About what you'd expect from the year-end holiday season. It's all hustle and bustle in here…, I thought as I looked over at the escalator.
And then, in the flow of people coming off that escalator, I found Yukinoshita. I should have walked out right then, but I was startled, and my feet stopped.
Even in the throng of people, Yukinoshita stood out prominently. I hadn't been searching for her, but she'd immediately caught my eye. She must have been shopping for books, as she had a bag from a bookstore in hand.
She was walking my way. Of course, she noticed me with a little start. Our eyes met, and we acknowledged each other. It would be difficult to pretend we hadn't seen each other now.
I bowed casually with just a bob of my head, and Yukinoshita, coming off the escalator and heading for the exit right then, nodded back.
"Hey," I said.
"…Good evening."
I'd been standing there for a bit, while Yukinoshita had just come walking briskly off the escalator. Our paces synced, and we stepped outside at almost the same moment.
The main road was crowded with people heading home and shoppers coming and going.
Beyond the exit by the KFC was a small square. Maybe it'd be different at warmer times of year, or at noon on weekends, but on a cold night after the rain, people didn't stop there.
But for some reason or another, we did.
Yukinoshita put on her coat again and adjusted her collar to check her scarf. To fill the time, I rewrapped my own scarf, too.
Maybe this was a habit from the clubroom lately. I should've left things at that, but I still opened my mouth automatically, looking for some words. "Uhhh, shopping?" I asked.
With the same unchanging expression as always, she coldly replied, "Yes… What are you doing out this late?"
I'd left the club early again that day. So it was odd for me to be there. Of course she'd ask me. I should have avoided running into her here—but I hadn't, and there was no helping it now.
Scratching my cheek, I looked away. "…I've got, well, lots of stuff going on."
I couldn't tell her the truth, so I gave a bland reply that was meaningless and vague and also technically wasn't a lie.
Yukinoshita's eyes slid downward, and she assented in a quiet voice. "I see…" Then she lifted her chin. Her teeth bit down on the tiny tremble in her lip, as if she was worrying whether to speak or not, and her gaze wavered slightly. "…You're helping Isshiki with her business, aren't you?" Her voice was a quiet and listless whisper. Her words were like frost falling in the night, terribly cold and fragile enough to shatter under a touch.
Yuigahama probably hadn't told her. I think she'd figured it out herself. She'd tolerated it silently thus far, but now that she'd actually witnessed this suspicious behavior from me, she couldn't avoid asking.
"Oh, well, things just worked out that way…" The facts wouldn't change, no matter how evasive I was about it, but still, I had no other way to say it. Even though there was no point in denying it now.
"You didn't have to bother lying." Yukinoshita's eyes were down on the bare earth lashed by the cold winter wind. She was probably referring to my excuses, like that thing about Komachi.
"I didn't lie. That was one of my reasons."
"…Yes, I suppose it's true that wasn't a lie," Yukinoshita said as if she were laughing at herself. Her hand combed through her hair, mussed by the cold wind.
That gesture reminded me of a similar exchange between us sometime before.
I'd stubbornly believed in the fact that Yukino Yukinoshita does not lie, and that was why I'd been disillusioned when she hadn't spoken the truth.
Not by her. I'd disappointed myself with how I'd forced such ideals on her.
So what about me now? I was even worse than before. I'd swallowed the disingenuous idea that it's not a lie if you avoid saying the truth, and now I was even acting on it.
I was nonchalantly making use of the deception that I'd once rejected so fiercely, and I felt like a disgrace for it. That was why the words that came out of my mouth were kind of like a confession.
"…Sorry for doing this without talking to you."
Yukinoshita closed her eyes and shook her head. "I don't really mind. I can't control what you do in your own time, and I don't have the right, too, either. Or…" She paused there. Her hand holding the bag over her shoulder squeezed tight. "Do you need my permission?" she asked me with tranquil eyes, tilting her head ever so slightly. Her soft voice was not hostile. That was what made it hurt so much. I felt a pressure in my chest like a silk cord slowly strangling me.
"…No, I was just checking," I said, a little harshly. I didn't know if that was the right answer. Maybe there was no such thing as a right one in the first place.
I subtly shifted my gaze to catch a glimpse of her. She wore that same faint smile she'd had on in the clubroom, as if nostalgic for days long past.
"…I see. Then there's no need for you to apologize, is there? Besides, Isshiki can engage more readily and openly if it's with you." Yukinoshita spoke eloquently and slowly, without ever rushing.
I listened in silence. If an apology wasn't allowed, then what else could I say?
She didn't look at me, gazing only at the cloudy, starless sky and the mist-like clouds, muddied with orange from the light of the factory district on the distant bay coast. "I think you can resolve things on your own," she continued. "You've always done that, after all."
I didn't think that was true. I hadn't resolved anything. With Isshiki and Rumi, I'd ultimately just made it a mess instead. Had I managed to help them? Not at all. "I haven't really resolved anything… And besides, I'm just doing it on my own because I'm on my own."
I deal with my issues by myself. That's simply how things are. Whether I got dragged into something or it fell down into my lap, once I'm involved, it's my problem. So I was dealing with it alone.
It's so ingrained in me, and I don't really know any other ways to do it, yet I still rely on others so easily. That leads to nothing good.
Obviously, when someone who's starting from the wrong place tries to do things the right way, he's not going to get the right results.
That's why I do things myself. That's all it is.
And Yukinoshita, who'd done these club activities together with me for over six months, had to be the same, too.
"You're the same way, aren't you?" I asked with certainty—no, with expectation.
But Yukinoshita hesitated to speak. "I'm…not." She lowered her eyes, her lips pulled down, and she was squeezing the sleeves of her coat. Beneath her loose scarf, I caught a glimpse of motion in her white neck as she swallowed. It looked as if she was gasping painfully in the wind. It may have been the first time I'd seen Yukinoshita like that. Her head still downturned, she seemed to struggle getting the words out. "That's just acting like someone who has it all together…like someone who's figured everything out."
Who was she talking about? Did she mean her, or did she mean me? But I figured it had to be the same thing. Who had it been, really, who'd thought they had everything figured out?
That was why I felt I had to say something, even though I hadn't gathered my thoughts, and opened my mouth. "Hey, Yukinoshita…," I started to say, but I couldn't continue.
She jerked her head up, cutting me off in her usual calm tones. "Why don't you take some time away from the club? If you're just trying to be considerate, there's no need for you to stop by." She spoke quickly but maintained her clear, faint smile. Her expression was peaceful, like a delicate porcelain doll in a glass case.
"I'm not trying to be considerate." I knew these weren't the words I should be saying. But I also understood if I said nothing, I would lose even that hollow room.
But that mistake remained a mistake, and no matter what I said to try to cover it, it wouldn't be corrected.
Yukinoshita shook her head. The bag over her shoulder lowered weakly. "I have. I've been trying to be considerate…ever since then… So…" I strained to catch the near whisper as I waited for what she would say next. But the rest never came, and she said something else. "But there's no more need to force it. If this was enough to ruin it, then that's all it amounted to… Am I wrong?" That question silenced me.
That was something I'd both believed and failed to believe completely.
But on that field trip, Yukinoshita had believed in what I'd been unable to.
I'd told one lie then. With that, I'd twisted that wish to not change things, to not be changed.
Ebina, Miura, and Hayama.
They had wanted their happy lifestyle to continue as it had been.
Their relationship was enough to make them want to lie and deceive bit by bit to maintain it. Having understood that, I couldn't reject the idea so easily.
I couldn't feel like their conclusion and the choice they had made in an attempt to protect it was wrong.
I had projected myself onto them and approved of how they were. I'd rather liked how things had been, in my own way, and I'd started to realize I didn't want to let it go.
Even though I knew I was going to lose it eventually.
That was why I twisted my conviction and lied to myself. The important things can't be replaced. If you lose it, you'll never get it again. So you lie like that because you feel you have to protect it.
I hadn't been protecting it—I'd thought I had, but really, I was only clinging to it.
The question Yukinoshita had put before me now was an ultimatum.
Not finding meaning in the superficial—that was the one conviction we had shared.
—Do I still have that conviction now?
I couldn't answer. Now, I know it's not completely pointless to maintain a pleasant veneer. I understand that's one way you can do things. That was why I couldn't reject it.
I was unable to say anything as Yukinoshita looked at me with sadness in her eyes. It seemed she was silently waiting for my answer. But when she understood my answer was my silence, a small breath slipped from her, and she offered a fragile smile. "You don't have to force yourself to come anymore…" Her tone was terribly kind.
Her loafers tapped against the brick stairs. Despite the crowd around her, I felt as if I could hear the sound of her departing footsteps the whole way.
She disappeared into the crowd at the station. Though she wasn't that far away, she felt unreachable to me.
I watched her go without calling out to her and sat down right there on the steps of the square.
At some point, Christmas songs started playing from a nearby store. The lights lit on the Christmas tree in the square, decorated with present-shaped ornaments.
Were those boxes empty on the inside?
They would be exactly like that clubroom. But hollow as that box was, I'd still tried to hold on to it.
I never thought I'd want something like that.
I stared off into space. Nothing in particular was on my mind.
I sat on the stairs of the square for a while, watching the lights on the tree flash over and over.
As I was soaking in the cold, finally, I made my decision. Blowing out a white breath, I got to my feet.
Not much time had passed since Yukinoshita had left, according to the clock.
In front of the station, there were lots of people going home, shoppers, and students returning from their clubs.
But despite the noise, it felt strangely quiet.
Even once I'd left the square and stepped into the crowds, I didn't really hear the voices around me or the Christmas carols. Just my own sigh, which sounded particularly loud in my ears.
I made my way down the sidewalk slowly. Maybe it was the flow of people going the opposite direction, exiting the station, that kept me from moving at the pace I wanted.
It wasn't just the people. The cars on the road beside me often stopped. They had to be picking people up at the station or people coming in and out of the nearby parking lot.
One of those cars blared its horn. Don't honk in the middle of town… I shot it a glare. A few other people glanced over, too.
That was where I saw the sort of black sports car you don't see much around here, the kind that looks elongated in the front. The car slowly pulled alongside me, and the window on the left side slid down.
"Hikigaya, what're you doing out here?" Poking her head out the window was Miss Hiratsuka.
"Uh, well, I was about to head home, but…what are you doing here, Miss Hiratsuka?" I asked. I wasn't expecting to run into her at all, much less here.
A smile came to her lips. "Come on, it's just a week till the event, right? I went to check on you, but it turns out you were done for the day. I was about to head home when I found you."
"You've got sharp eyes."
"When they make you work as a guidance counselor, you find yourself catching the school uniform all over town." She smiled in a bit of a self-deprecating way and beckoned me over to the passenger's seat. "This is perfect. I'll take you home."
"Uh, no, I'm fine."
"Just come on. Get in. Cars are coming up behind me," she urged me. I looked over to see a car rolling in after her. If she was going to say that, then I had to get in—now.
I was about to reluctantly climb in but found there was only one door on the left side. I guess this is one of those two-seaters. So I was forced to circle around to the right side. Wait, so the steering wheel in this car is on the left…?
I opened the door and slid inside. As I was putting on the seat belt, I looked around the interior to see the seats and dashboard were high-quality leather, and the meters and controls sparkled with a metallic aluminum finish. What the heck? Cool. "I didn't know you had a car like this, Miss Hiratsuka. I feel like this one's different from that one during summer vacation." I thought when she took us to
Chiba Village, she'd driven a typical minivan…
"Oh, that was a rental car. This is my baby," Miss Hiratsuka said, knocking the wheel with her fist, pleased. Bold and proud, huh. But a single woman with an expensive-looking two-seater sports car, huh…? I dunno, maybe her heavy tendency toward these kinds of hobbies is one of the reasons she can't get married…
Miss Hiratsuka's baby revved with a low growl and sped away.
I told her the general location of my house, and she nodded, turning the wheel. From there, it would be fastest to go along the national highway.
But when I looked into the area lit by the headlights, she wasn't going to the highway.
Finding this strange, I looked over to the driver's seat to see her puffing a cigarette between her lips, eyes on the road. "Mind if we take a little detour?"
"Sure." Since she was taking me home, of course I couldn't complain. I didn't know where the detour would lead, but if we were going to my house in the end, I didn't mind.
I leaned back in the seat and rested my chin on my hand, elbow on the window frame. It had to be a little foggy, because the streetlights I saw from the car oozed orange as they flowed by.
A warm wind slowly blew up from my feet. It was comfortable after the chill outside, and I yawned a few times.
Beside me with her hands on the wheel, Miss Hiratsuka said nothing, humming quietly instead. Her faint breaths and the slow melody were like a lullaby, and my eyelids slid shut. She was driving rather carefully, considering this was a sports car, and the vibrations of its engine were like a cradle.
A night drive to who-knows-where.
As I was nodding off, eventually, the car rolled to a stop.
I looked up to see that there was nothing to see, aside from the streetlights standing at regular intervals and the headlights of the vehicles driving down the opposite lane. It was an ordinary road.
"We're here," Miss Hiratsuka said, getting out of the car.
Here? Where…? I thought as I stepped out as well.
Suddenly, the smell of the sea hit my nose. Then seeing the lights of the new city center ahead, I figured out where we were. Right over there was Tokyo Bay, and now we were on the bridge at the mouth of the river. For us students at Soubu High School, this is the spot where you turn back during the February school marathon. The railing of the bridge is covered with couples graffiti, and I have a strong memory of thinking Eugh when I saw it before.
Miss Hiratsuka came out to the sidewalk side and tossed a canned coffee at me. It was dark, so I nearly missed it, but I caught it somehow. The can in my hands was still a little warm.
She leaned against the car, and with a cigarette in one hand, she opened up the can of coffee with the other. The gesture oddly suited her.
"You look kinda cool," I said, meaning to tease her.
But she replied, with a cool, dark smile, "That was the goal."
Aw, man, if you give me a look like that, then I really will think you're cool!
Continuing to stare at her would make me embarrassed, so I turned my eyes to the ocean instead.
The ocean at night was pitch-black. There were some lights, so I could see the surface of the water moving. It looked particularly soft, and the thought crossed my mind that if you were to sink down there, you'd never rise up again.
As I was staring at the water, Miss Hiratsuka said to me, "How are things going?"
What's she asking about? There was no context, so I couldn't say anything, but considering the time of year this was, I figured it was about the Christmas event.
"Pretty bad."
"…Hmm." She looked away and breathed out a smoky breath. Then she turned back to me. "What's looking bad?"
"What exactly? Just in general…"
"Come on, tell me."
"Fine, then…" After pondering where to start, I launched into my explanation.
First, the biggest problem was lack of time. I didn't feel like I could turn things around in a week.
The next was the root cause of that lost time, the issues with the way we'd been going about this. Tamanawa took listening to people's opinions as an absolute, while Isshiki kept seeking out others' opinions, too… Having those two in charge had wound up wasting time.
In order to improve things, either someone had to take an ax to this, or the two of them had to change their way of thinking, but the chances of either of those possibilities happening was low.
For the former, there was no one who'd take on that responsibility. Anyone who was there only to help out would hold back in front of the student council, while the student council members under the two presidents felt like they needed to defer to authority.
So then you might change how Isshiki and Tamanawa ran things, but that would be arduous, too. Neither of them had been student council president for very long. It was no surprise they lacked experience. The problem was that neither of them had any vision as leaders that would enable them to succeed. I couldn't see it at all— but I could clearly see their failure. They had to be somewhat afraid that their first job as presidents, which was also a major event involving another school and local organizations, would end in failure.
It's common enough to stumble during your first big performance. Only a bystander can say that failure is a part of the experience—if you're the one who blows it, it's just unpleasant.
People talking from a safe zone will say things like Just try again next time and Everyone experiences failure. But sometimes there is no next time, and that one failure can have a lasting effect; sometimes you fail at your next chance, too. It's honestly irresponsible to say it's okay to fail. The responsibility for failure falls on their shoulders, not yours.
If you have even a bit of imagination, you can easily understand failure is something to avoid. Tamanawa and Isshiki probably knew that, too.
That was why they sought input from others and adopted it—in order to distribute responsibility in case of failure.
I'm sure they wouldn't tell anyone to their face that their idea was to blame. It would just be a secret consolation in their hearts.
Reporting, contacting, consulting, conferencing, and confirming are all done to increase the number of people involved and distribute one's own responsibility. If you can make it a failure of the whole, the responsibility of the whole, then the emotional burden on each individual decreases.
They get other people to tell them what they should do because they can't handle responsibility themselves.
This was the reason the planning of this event was at a standstill. The original error was that it had never been settled who was on top, who would assume the most responsibility.
"Well, I guess that's basically it…" I wasn't all that sure I'd managed to put it into words well, but I'd spoken my thoughts at length.
Miss Hiratsuka had listened to the whole thing in silence, but then when I was done talking, she nodded, her expression complicated. "…You have a good view of this. You're good at reading people's psychology."
That wasn't true at all. All I was doing was supposing what I would think if I were in that position.
When I was about to respond with that, Miss Hiratsuka stuck up her index finger to stop me. Then she looked me in the eye as she slowly put the words together. "But you don't understand feelings."
My breath caught. Not my voice, words, or even a sigh came out. I felt as if I'd been struck to the core. And I realized the true nature of what I, Hachiman Hikigaya, had not tried to understand—despite being told the same thing a long time ago. She said I should "consider people's feelings more" and that I "understand so many things, so why can't you get that?"
When I didn't say anything, Miss Hiratsuka crushed her cigarette in a portable ashtray and said, "Psychology is not always equivalent to feelings. That's why, occasionally, you'll end up with a conclusion that looks completely unreasonable… That's why Yukinoshita, Yuigahama, and you all come up with the wrong answers."
"…Uh, they don't have anything to do with this, though," I retorted. I was taken aback, hearing those names now. That wasn't something I wanted to talk or think about much at the moment.
Miss Hiratsuka shot me a glare. "I was asking about them to begin with," she said in a disgruntled manner, then lit another cigarette. Yeah, she hadn't said what she was asking about. I'd just assumed it was about the Christmas event. "But, well, both are the same, in essence. There's one root problem… The heart." She blew out a breath. The haze of her smoke changed form, then quickly vanished.
Heart. Feelings. Emotion.
I followed the trail of smoke as it melted into the air. Maybe I could still see something; maybe not.
But that was conceit. In the end, I couldn't see anything. I'd meant to take people's feelings into account, but I'd only been seeing what was on the surface. I'd taken my hypothesis as truth and acted based on that. How was that anything other than self-satisfaction?
So I'll probably never really get it.
"But…that's not something I can understand just by mulling it over," I said.
If I can see something in terms of advantages and disadvantages, risk and return, then I'll understand it. Those things make sense to me.
Desire and self-preservation, jealousy and hate. They're common, ugly emotions, and when they form the root of a behavioral psychology, I can form an analogy—since I have plenty of examples to draw from inside me. That's why it's easy for me to imagine. In those cases, there's still room for me to understand. I can explain it with theory.
But it's hard for anything else.
When the arithmetic of profit and loss is set aside, people's feelings beyond logic and theory are hard to imagine. There are too few clues, and most of all, I've been wrong too many times at this point.
Goodwill, friendship, love, and everything else in that category have only ever brought about misunderstanding. Every time I think, Okay, this time I get it, I make a mess of things again.
Whether it's getting a text, or happening by chance to touch someone, or meeting their gaze in class and getting a smile in return, or hearing a rumor that someone liked me, or talking a lot because we were seated next to each other, or always going home at the same time, I get it wrong every single time.
Even if… If by chance, I was right after all…
I'm not confident that I can really believe in that. Excluding all other elements for good judgment, with any and every obstacle established, I don't feel like I could still say that feeling is real.
If things change continuously, then there's no right answer. I don't think you can come up with one.
Listening to me, Miss Hiratsuka's lips curled up a little, and then she fixed me with a strict look. "You don't get it? Then keep mulling it over. If all you can do is calculate, then calculate everything you can. Come up with every answer, reducing them one by one by process of elimination. Whatever remains is your answer." Her intense gaze was focused on me. But this was an irrational line of argument. No—it wasn't even an argument.
She was saying that if you can only make conjectures about people via theories and calculation, then you should look through everything and calculate everything—to eliminate every possibility you can think of via process of elimination and set it aside.
What an inefficient and pointless process. And what's more, even if I did do that, there was no guarantee I'd get an answer. Thanks to my exasperation and shock, the words wouldn't come out quite right. "…I don't think that would help me understand."
"Which would mean either your calculations were wrong, or you overlooked something. You do the calculation over again." Her serious tone made me think it was all a joke, like it was nothing. She said it like it was such an obvious fact.
I gave a hollow laugh. "You're ridiculous…"
"You fool. If you could calculate feelings, we would've computerized them a long time ago. Whatever answer remains that you can't calculate, that's human feelings." The words she used were rough, but her tone was kind.
Like she said, I think there are things you can't calculate. And even if you did, you'd probably have something left over afterward to prevent a clean sense of satisfaction. Like pi or an infinitely repeating decimal.
But that isn't abandoning thought. If there's no answer, then you keep thinking. That's far from repose—it's something like torture.
Just imagining something like that sent a chill up my spine. I reflexively drew the collar of my coat against myself.
Miss Hiratsuka chuckled. "Well, I say that, but my calculations are full of mistakes, which is probably why I can't get married… The other day, a friend of mine had a wedding, you know…," she said, a masochistic smile creeping on her face. Normally, this was where I would tease her with an offhand comment.
But I didn't feel like it this time. "No, that's because you have no taste in men."
"Huh? Wh-where's this coming from?" Startled, she mumbled in embarrassment and turned away.
But it wasn't really flattery. If I'd been born ten years earlier, if I'd met her ten years earlier, I think I'd probably have sincerely fallen for her. Not that speculating about it has a point.
The image was so funny, I couldn't help but laugh, and Miss Hiratsuka chuckled pleasantly with me. After that bout of laughter, she cleared her throat. "W-well, whatever. I'm not sure if I can call this thanks, but…I'll give you a special hint," she said, and when she turned to me once more, her expression was earnest. Her chiding tone made me stand up straight and look her in the eye. When I told her with my gaze that I was ready to listen, she slowly began to speak.
"When you're mulling over this, don't focus on the wrong thing."
"Okay…"
Her words were a little vague, though. It was too abstract and functionally no hint at all.
She must have been able to tell from my face that I didn't understand, and she tilted her head. "Hmm, yeah… For example, the reason you're helping Isshiki as an individual instead of as a part of the Service Club. Think about that. It's either for the Service Club or for Yukinoshita's sake."
This speculation and the name she'd brought up suddenly startled me. When my head jerked over to her, I found her smiling wryly. "It's clear to anyone watching. After the incident with Isshiki, Yukinoshita spoke with me… She doesn't talk about herself, but I could tell from the way she was acting that something might be going on. Was it the same with you?"
"Uhhh, well, I don't know…," I said noncommittally, searching for how to answer.
But Miss Hiratsuka didn't wait to hear it and continued. "If you had the same thoughts, then you would've decided to distance yourself from them so as not to hurt them…perhaps. Though I'm just speculating here."
"…Well, yeah, it's just speculation," I said, telling myself it was nothing more than that. This was merely a case study, and what Miss Hiratsuka had said was not necessarily the reality of the situation.
Miss Hiratsuka nodded back, as if confirming with me. "But that's not what you should be thinking about. In this case, what you should be considering is why you don't want to hurt them. That'll lead you to your answer quickly—it's because you care about them." Miss Hiratsuka fixed me a focused stare. I could tell she wouldn't allow me to argue or even look away.
Illuminated by the orange streetlights and the headlights of the cars driving by, her face seemed full of sorrow, but in a soft, warm voice, she murmured, "But you know, Hikigaya, you can't not hurt them.
You'll unconsciously hurt someone merely by existing. Whether you're alive or dead, you will always hurt someone. It can happen when you involve yourself with them, or when you avoid involving yourself. It's inevitable…"
At this point, she pulled out a cigarette. Looking at it intently, she continued. "But if it's someone you don't care about, you won't even notice the pain you inflicted. What you need is self-awareness. It's because you care about them that you believe you hurt them." Once she was done saying this, she finally put the cigarette in her mouth. Her lighter made a flick sound like striking a stone, and then a soft glow lit her face. Her eyes were closed as if she were sleeping, expression peaceful. Then she exhaled a big breath of smoke and added, "To care about someone is to be prepared for the day you'll hurt them."
She was staring at the sky.
Wondering exactly what she was looking at now, I followed her gaze. Above our heads, the clouds had broken at some point, and faint moonlight was seeping through.
"That's it for your hints," she said. She pushed herself off the car and smiled at me, then stretched with a little groan. "And sometimes, caring about each other is the reason why you don't understand. But that's not something to be sad about. I think it's something to be proud of."
That was a very beautiful thing to say, but it was nothing more. Wanting something you can't have, seeing it just beyond your reach, has to hurt. If you could just not want it or see it, then you'd be able to give up on it.
When this thought struck me, I found myself asking, "…Isn't that harsh?"
"Yeah, it is," she said, coming one step closer to me to lean on her car again. "…But you can do it. I did. Once." She had a rather unyielding smile on her face. She didn't tell me a lot, but I'm sure plenty had happened, a long time ago. I didn't know if it was okay for me to ask what. Once I get a little older, one day, will she tell me about it?
I realized I was looking forward to that a little and looked away. Then while I was at it, I said something unkind. "It's a little arrogant to say just because you did it, other people should be able to," I complained.
She petted my head roughly, sort of like the iron claw. "…You're not even a little cute." Feeling a grinding pain on my skull, when I gasped, she suddenly eased up. But her hand wouldn't leave my head. "…All right, I'll be frank," she said, and her tone lowered substantially. My head was in her grip, so I shifted my eyes toward her and saw a hint of a sad smile. "It probably doesn't really have to be you. Yukinoshita might change herself sometime in the future. One day, someone who can understand her might show up. Maybe they can get close to her. That's something I can say to Yuigahama, too."
"One day?"
When would that be? It seemed like a distant future far removed from reality, and yet something especially real and inevitably soon.
"I'm sure to all of you, right now feels like everything, but that's not true at all. Somewhere along the line, things can balance out. The world is made that way."
Was that right? That someday, someone was sure to make that approach? The thought of that unshakable fact caused a mild ache inside me, and I twisted around to hide it.
The hand on my head moved away to rest on my shoulder. Miss Hiratsuka's voice felt far closer than before, too. "…But I think it would be good if it could be you. I hope both you and Yuigahama will be the ones to close the distance."
"…But I can't just—," I started to say, and right then, she softly embraced me around the shoulders. The closeness and faint warmth made my words fizzle out.
When I froze under the sudden gesture, Miss Hiratsuka looked me in the eye and said, "This time now isn't everything…but there are things that you can do only now and things that are only here. It's now, Hikigaya. It's now."
I couldn't look away from her dewy eyes. Right that moment, I had no response for that earnest gaze. So I said nothing.
Her arm over my shoulders squeezed. "If you don't mull it over, suffer with it, struggle and agonize—if you don't work at it, then it isn't real," she said and then abruptly pulled away.
Then as if to say, The lecture ends here, she put on her usual easygoing and cool smile. And with that, finally, I unfroze.
After everything she said, many, many replies rose in my heart. But I didn't spit them out. I should think about these things, distill them, and swallow them myself, I knew.
So I'd say something else. Something rude, instead of thanks. "…But it's not like it's real just because you suffered."
"You really aren't at all cute." She laughed pleasantly and bonked my head from behind. "…Okay, let's go back. Get in," she said before climbing into the driver's seat.
I replied with an "Uh-huh" and was about to circle around to the passenger's side.
As I did so, I happened to look at the sky.
The moon had peeked out from the gap in the clouds, but it was already hidden away again. There was nothing to illuminate the night sky, and the chilly wind was so sharp, it felt like it was stabbing my cheeks.
But strangely, I didn't feel cold. Warmth lingered in my body.
6: But even so, Hachiman Hikigaya…
As I sank into the living room sofa, I heard the long hand of the wall clock ticking out time. When I glanced over, the short hand was circling the top.
Quite a while had passed since Miss Hiratsuka had taken me home.
Komachi and our parents had already finished dinner, and they'd all gone back to their rooms. Kamakura was probably sleeping in Komachi's room now, too.
Occasionally, the kotatsu would make a low buzzing noise—maybe because it was an older model. Nobody was using it, but it seemed to have been left on. I got up to turn it off, then went back to the sofa.
Right now, the chill of the room was actually helpful to me. It kept me from getting sleepy, and most of all, my head was clear like a cold sky.
Miss Hiratsuka really had given me hints. And probably not only that day. She'd been teaching me all this time—though I'd always overlooked it, or misunderstood it, or missed it. So I figured I should rethink things from the beginning one more time.
I had to reestablish and reexamine the problem.
Right now, the biggest obstacle at hand was, of course, the Christmas event between Kaihin and Soubu. Though I'd volunteered to help, the situation was close to collapsing.
Along with that was the problem with Iroha Isshiki. I was the one who'd recommended her for student council president, but she was not doing a good job of running things.
Rumi Tsurumi's situation was tangled up in this, too. I don't know how what I did in Chiba Village during summer vacation had affected her. But right now, it didn't look like she was in a good situation.
And…as for the Service Club…
Just thinking about that last problem gave me a bad feeling, and I wasn't getting anything that seemed like a resolution. Whenever I tried to find somewhere to start, all I got was resigned expressions and forced cheerful smiles.
After I got stuck on that matter and spent a lot of time mulling it over, I decided that issue should be left for later.
Regarding the other three problems: The goals there were clearly established, making them easy to understand. One was to use this event to ensure Isshiki could manage as student council president. I also had to make it so Rumi could smile whether she was alone or with others. Further, I also had to arrange for proper cooperation between us and the Kaihin crowd, Tamanawa included, and to make the event actually happen within the scope of what was possible.
If I could accomplish this, then I should be able to quickly find a solution.
I went around rearranging the problem in my head like a computer defragging its hard drive to find the optimal answer. All these things were connected to the joint Christmas event. The three problems all converged here.
I just had to think of a way to make this the perfect success.
But having worked on it for the past week, I understood this wouldn't be easy. I doubted I could reverse the situation on my own. I'd already spoken to Tamanawa multiple times, asking if we could change our approach.
What should I do? Should I ask someone for help?
The only person I could rely on would be Komachi, but she was studying for her entrance exams. Given her situation, I shouldn't bother her. She had less than two months, and I really couldn't get help from her. It was obviously unacceptable for me to obstruct this turning point in my little sister's life.
So then who? Zaimokuza? It wouldn't hurt me much to bother him. And besides, he probably had nothing better to do. But I sincerely doubted Zaimokuza would function well in this sort of social situation. He was already bad at communicating with people at the best of times, so if it was with people from other schools, then he'd be even worse.
…No, I understand it's not Zaimokuza's fault.
The responsibility, and the cause of this, was with me.
I'm pathetic.
Why was my first thought looking to someone else for help? I'd gotten help once, so now I was starting to believe it was okay, immediately trying to rely on others again.
When had I become so weak?
Connections between people have gotta be a drug. You don't even realize you've become dependent, and every time, it slowly gnaws into your heart. Eventually, you can't do anything without relying on others.
Have I been making people suffer when I've tried to help them? Have I created people who can't stand without assistance?
I should not have given fish but taught how to fish.
Anything you can easily get from someone else is bound to be fake. If someone can give you something easily, then surely they can steal it from you just as easily.
During the student council election, I'd gotten a reason from Komachi. I had told myself it was for Komachi's sake, to keep the Service Club going, and taken action.
I was probably wrong that time.
I should have acted based on an answer I'd found—my own reason.
Even now, I was trying to look to someone else for a reason to act. For Isshiki, for Rumi, for the event.
Was there really a reason for me to act? I got the feeling I'd been working from the wrong presuppositions. I was confused about what I should be thinking about.
If I was going to correct these wrongs, then I had to go back to where it had all started.
What have I been doing all this time? What was the reason? I turned over the events I'd just been thinking about, considering them in reverse chronological order.
The reason I needed to make the Christmas event a success was that
I wanted to help Iroha Isshiki and Rumi Tsurumi, and the direct reason I was assisting with this event in particular was because I'd recommended Isshiki as president during the student council election. During that election, I'd recommended her so I could keep Yukinoshita or Yuigahama from becoming president. So why hadn't I wanted either of them as president? The real reason I'd acted—the real reason I'd made myself search for a motive, a pretext from Komachi—was…
…because there was something I wanted.
I think maybe this was the only thing I've truly desired. I didn't need anything else, and I even hated anything that wasn't it. But I'd never attained it, so I'd believed that it didn't exist.
But I had felt like I'd caught a glimpse of it. Like I'd touched it, like I could reach it.
That was how I went astray.
I'd come up with the question. So then I'd mull it over—my answer.
I don't know how long I stayed like that, but the blue night was already starting to melt away as the sky tinged faintly white.
I'd spent the whole night thinking, but I couldn't come up with any methods, strategies, artifices, or anything. I couldn't come up with any logic, theory, argument, or sophistry.
That's why, I think…this is my answer.
I was in the classroom after school, stretching wide at my desk. I shifted a little, and my neck and back cracked.
In the end, I'd hardly slept at all that night, so I spent the day at school on barely any sleep. Thanks to that, as soon as I arrived in the classroom, I'd lain facedown on my desk, ignoring everyone and everything all day.
But now I was wide-awake.
I was half in doubt about the answer I'd spent an evening coming to. I still didn't know whether it was right.
But I couldn't think of anything else.
I breathed one last big sigh and stood up.
I was headed to one place.
After leaving the classroom, I walked down the hallway.
The chill of the empty hallway didn't bother me. My blood flow had been on the fast side for a while now; my body temperature was high for no reason. The sound of the wind against the windows and the yelling of the sports clubs in the distance didn't reach me. I couldn't hear anything but the words I had to say as I repeated them over and over in my head.
Ahead of me was that door. It was still, silent, and closed.
I waited in front of it and took the slightest of breaths. Then I knocked two, three times. Until now, I'd never knocked to go in. But if I was going to act in accordance with my goal right now, then this was the etiquette.
I waited for a while, but there was no answer from within.
I knocked one more time.
"Come in…," said a voice faintly through the door.
Huh, I'd never thought about it before, but this is what it sounds like when there's a door between us. Once I was acknowledged, I put my hand on the handle.
There was a rattling sound as the door caught. It was heavy. Had it always been? With a firm tug, I forced it open.
When I entered, I saw two very surprised faces in their usual places.
"Hikki. Why're you knocking?" Cell phone in her hand, as it always was, Yui Yuigahama stared at me in confusion.
Yukino Yukinoshita stopped reading, sticking a bookmark in her book before setting it down. She lowered her eyes and focused on the desk in front of her. Quietly, as if talking to herself and no one else, she muttered, "…I said you didn't have to force yourself to come."
I waited to speak until she had finished. I wanted to make sure I heard everything. "…I have a reason," I replied briefly.
She didn't say anything else, and I just stood there. As we remained like that, a silence fell over us, as if an angel had passed.
Yuigahama looked between Yukinoshita and me, then took a deep breath. "Wh-why don't you sit down?" she offered.
I nodded back at her and pulled out a nearby chair. When I sat down, the girls were in front of me. For the first time, I realized, Oh, this is what the people who came for consultation and requests always saw. The chair I'd always used before was empty, still diagonally across from Yukinoshita.
"What is it? …You seem kinda different from usual." Yuigahama sounded uneasy.
Of course I was. I hadn't come as a member of the club today.
After thinking and puzzling and reflecting, I'd come up with a single answer.
I had made a mistake, and that question had already been answered.
I couldn't resolve the same question again.
But I was sure I could ask it again. This time, this time I would do it the right way, with the right process, and start getting new right answers. I couldn't think of any other way.
Exhaling a big breath, I squared my gaze on Yukinoshita and Yuigahama.
"I want to make a request."
After saying them over and over in my head so many times, the words came out smoother than I'd imagined.
Maybe that was why Yuigahama looked relieved to hear it. "Hikki… You'll actually talk to us…" She smiled warmly.
Yukinoshita did not; she didn't even come close. Her eyes were on me, but they weren't seeing me. With that cold gaze on me, my voice slowly got weaker.
"About the Christmas event Isshiki was talking about, it's in worse shape than I'd ever imagined, and I'd like your help…"
When I managed to finish, Yukinoshita's gaze dropped, and she began with hesitation. "But…"
"Oh, I know what you're gonna say." I cut her off before she could shoot me down. "I chose to do this on my own, and I said this wasn't for Isshiki, too. But I'm the one who pushed her to be president. If you're looking for someone to blame, I know it's me."
It'd be bad if Yukinoshita were to refuse me now. I didn't have anything prepared to persuade her, but still, I couldn't let her tell me no. I set out every reason I could think up. "Do you remember that kid from Chiba Village? She's the same as before…"
"Oh…Rumi, yes?" Yuigahama made a complicated expression. That event wouldn't be a pleasant memory for anyone. I'd forced the worst results on all of us. I had helped no one.
That was the way I had been doing things, and I'd made a mess. I didn't want to get it wrong this time, so I pleaded with her desperately. "So I want to do something. That goes back to what I did, and I know this is a selfish request. But still, I want to make it."
When I finished, I looked over at Yukinoshita to see her fists laid on the desk were squeezed tight.
"So that's what you mean by your fault."
"…Well, I can't deny it is," I replied. Whether directly or indirectly, the underlying cause of these problems was my own actions. That was a clear fact.
Yukinoshita lowered her eyes and bit her lip. "I see…" She lifted her face, her voice sounding like a sigh. Her dewy eyes captured me for a moment but immediately looked away again. There was a silence, as if she was searching for the words, and then she calmly began again. "…If these outcomes are your individual responsibility, then you should resolve these issues by yourself."
My breath caught for a moment. But still, I couldn't stay silent. Hoarsely, I replied, "…Yeah. Sorry, forget about it."
I had no more moves to make. There was absolutely nothing else I could think of. And besides, most importantly, she was right according to all the rules and principles.
So this was enough to satisfy me, logically speaking.
I started getting up to leave the clubroom.
But a fervent call followed me. "Wait." Yuigahama's voice broke the silence of the cold room.
She looked at me and Yukinoshita with teary eyes.
"That's not right. Why should you have to do everything yourself? That's weird," she said, voice trembling. Yukinoshita and I had been convinced by logic, but Yuigahama judged us wrong based on different reasoning.
That was very her, and my cheeks relaxed a bit. With that weak smile, slowly, wondering who I was even trying to say this to, I replied as if I were explaining to a small child. "No, it's not weird. You wipe your own ass. That's obvious."
"…That's right," Yukinoshita agreed after a slight pause.
After Yukinoshita and I had spoken, Yuigahama immediately shook her head. "No! What you guys are saying is all wrong!" She seemed ready to burst into tears at any moment, and when I looked at her face, I felt something tighten in my chest. I wanted to look away, but the kindness in her voice wouldn't let me.
"Listen, it's not your individual responsibility, Hikki. Maybe you were the one who thought things up and carried them out. But we're responsible, too. We pushed everything on you…"
"…No, you didn't." I searched for the right rebuttal as she hung her head low. Neither of them had really forced anything on me. In fact, they'd helped me quite a lot.
But when Yuigahama lifted her head and glared at me, she was nearly crying. "We did! It's not just your fault that things ended up this way. It's my fault, too, and…" She turned to Yukinoshita. Her gaze implied the responsibility of one more person here.
Yukinoshita returned the stare but didn't say anything. She pressed her lips tight, bracing for the inevitable accusation.
Yuigahama faltered, unsure how to respond to that, and her next words were quiet. "…And I think what you're saying is a little dirty, Yukinon." Her voice was soft, but her gaze was firmly pointed at Yukinoshita. Her eyes were more serious—aggressive, even.
Yukinoshita didn't break eye contact. After a moment's pause, as if hesitating as to whether she should say it or not, she replied, "…So now you say that… You're being unfair, too." Her voice was quiet yet sharply cold.
Yuigahama bit her lip. Their gazes clashed, nearly glaring at each other.
"Wait, I didn't come here to play the blame game." I didn't care about who was at fault or searching for a culprit. Neither did I want some self-aggrandizing conclusion, like Everyone's to blame. I'd planned to come here to talk about something else.
I didn't want to see Yukinoshita and Yuigahama arguing like this.
But they didn't listen to my call to stop. Both of them locked stares with some reluctance, but nevertheless, the words rushing from their mouths never stopped.
Yuigahama's white throat trembled as she swallowed. She leveled her teary-eyed gaze at Yukinoshita and slowly put together the words. "You won't talk to us, Yukinon… Sometimes people won't understand unless you speak up."
"…You didn't speak up, either. You just kept pretending nothing had happened." Yukinoshita's voice was icy. Her face reminded me of a frozen sculpture as she dispassionately stated simple facts. She must have been referring to how we'd been spending our club time lately. "So I figured if that was what you…what you two wanted…," she added in an almost inaudible mutter, and Yuigahama ground to a halt.
Yukinoshita had been feeling it, too. This room was cold and hollow, and the three of us inside were patiently waiting for it to end.
Yuigahama and I had both accepted that temporary folly. And maybe our choice had forced Yukinoshita to be like that, too.
All of us had failed to speak the truth. All of us had failed to say anything we'd wanted.
We'd made assumptions. About one another—about how we would act.
But ideals and understanding are completely different things.
"…People won't understand if you don't speak up?" I repeated.
Yuigahama's words stuck in my chest. If you don't speak up, then people won't understand. That's clear enough. But will they understand even if you do?
Yuigahama turned to me after the sudden question slipped from my lips. Yukinoshita was staring at the ground. Prompted by Yuigahama's gaze, I commented, "But sometimes, even if you do speak up, people won't get it."
Yuigahama's mouth twisted sadly. Droplets rose in the corners of her eyes, ready to fall. That was why I tried to speak as kindly as I could. "…I don't think I'd be persuaded by anything people say. I might decide there's something behind their words or assume there's a hidden motive for what they're saying."
Yukinoshita tended to be overly laconic, and Yuigahama avoided things by speaking vaguely.
And on top of that, I had the habit of reading too much into what people say.
That was why when Yukinoshita had said she was going to run for president, even if she had spoken about it more directly, I doubt I'd have taken her words at face value. In attempting to divine her real intentions, I would have taken whatever she said and tangled it up with other ideas until eventually I got it wrong anyway.
People only see what they want to see and hear what they want to hear. I'm no exception.
Yuigahama rubbed at her eyes, then jerked her head up. "But if you just come out and talk about it more—if I could talk more with you, Hikki, then I…"
"No." I shook my head slowly at her words.
Everyone says, "I won't understand if you don't speak up"—but they don't how hard it is to communicate. They just picked up the idea from someone else somewhere and swallowed it wholesale.
But it's common enough for people not to understand, and there are things that will break if you speak.
"It's arrogant to believe someone will understand just because you told them something. The one saying it is only doing it for their own benefit, and the one hearing it is thinking too highly of themselves… After what's done is done, discussion won't necessarily lead to an understanding. So I don't want words." As I spoke, I trembled a little. I happened to glance outside the window and saw the sunset was gradually nearing. The room was getting colder.
Yukinoshita was silent as she listened to everything, but she gently wrapped her arms around her shoulders, as if warming herself.
Yuigahama sniffed, then wiped her eyes. Tearfully, she said, "But if you don't say anything, then you'll never know…"
"Yeah… It's a fantasy to think you could understand without words… But… But I…"
As I searched for the rest of what I was about to say, my vision got cloudy.
Before me, there were no words to be found. All I saw were eyes rubbed red and a profile with long eyelashes lowered toward the ground.
Suddenly, the image blurred.
"I…" I repeated myself, but I couldn't figure out what would come next.
What should I say? I'd already voiced everything I'd wanted to, all the concerns that had been on my mind. I'd already considered the words I needed to ask the questions again, to stack them all up from square one. There was honestly nothing left. I'd exhausted everything.
Ahhh, that's right. In the end, everything I was trying to say was just deliberation and logic, nothing more than calculation, technique, and artifice. I could run with it as far as I wanted and think about it over and over, but the result would always be the same.
But even though I still couldn't understand this situation at all, no matter how far I mulled it over, I was still searching for something I should say, what I wanted to say. I knew they wouldn't get it, whatever I said. I knew it was pointless, but…
I didn't want words. But what I wanted definitely existed.
It's not that I want us to understand one another, be friends, talk, or be together. I don't need them to understand me. I know they won't, and I don't wish them to. What I'm looking for is something harsher and more severe. I want to know. I want to understand. I want to know so I can feel relief. I want peace of mind, because ignorance is absolutely terrifying. Complete understanding is such a self-righteous, selfish, and arrogant thing to wish for. It's despicable and repulsive, really. I'm beyond disgusted with myself for wanting it.
But if—if we could feel the same way…
If we could impose that ugly self-satisfaction on one another, if there's some sort of relationship that could permit that arrogance…
I know something like that is absolutely impossible. I bet I'll never attain something like that.
I'm sure the grapes out of my reach are sour.
But I don't need fruit sweet like lies. I don't need false understanding or phony relationships.
What I want is those sour grapes.
Even if it's sour, even if it's bitter, even if it tastes bad, even if it's pure poison, even if it doesn't exist, even if I can't acquire it, even if what I want cannot be allowed…
"Still…" The word came out of me unbidden, and even I could hear it trembling.
"Still, I…" I fought down the sob that nearly escaped and tried to swallow the sound along with the rest of the sentence, but they both came out in fragments. My teeth rattled, and my throat was tight as the words left my mouth anyway.
"I want…something real."
My eyes felt hot. My vision was blurry. I could hear nothing but the sound of my breathing.
Yukinoshita and Yuigahama were both staring at me, surprise on their faces.
What a mess, hoarse and pathetic and pleading on the verge of tears. I didn't want to accept myself like this. I didn't want to show it. I didn't want to be seen. What I was saying was incoherent anyway.
There was no logic or cause and effect anywhere. This was nonsense.
My throat was trembling with every hot, damp breath that threatened to become another sob to stifle.
"Hikki…," Yuigahama said to me, gently reaching out her hand. But the distance between us was too great. Her hand wouldn't reach me, and she dropped it weakly.
Not just her hand. I don't know if my words reached her, either.
What could they understand from what I was saying? I was sure they wouldn't understand, even after all that. But I'd still spoken up for myself more than anything else. Or maybe that choice was the very deception we detested. Maybe it was a hopeless counterfeit.
But no matter how I turned it over in my head, no answer emerged. I had no idea what to do. So all that remained at the end was, honestly, this hopeless wish.
"I…don't understand," Yukinoshita murmured. Her arms around her shoulders squeezed harder, and her expression twisted painfully.
With a quick, quiet apology, Yukinoshita stood from her seat.
Without looking at us, she continued quickly toward the door.
"Yukinon!" Yuigahama stood, about to follow her. But in concern for me, she turned around.
I could only watch.
Hazy though it was, I saw Yukinoshita leave the clubroom, and then I purged the hot breaths stored up in my chest.
Maybe I was kind of relieved it was finally over.
"Hikki." As I sat there, Yuigahama grabbed my arm. Then she tugged me to my feet. Her face and mine came close. With wet eyes brimming with tears, she looked straight into mine. "…We have to go."
"No, but…"
The conclusion had already been made. There were no more words to say or feelings to communicate. A dry, somewhat self-deprecating laugh slipped from me, and I turned away.
But she didn't back down.
"We'll go together! …Yukinon said she didn't understand. I think she doesn't know what she should do, either… I don't get it at all, either, but— But we can't let it end here! We have to understand! It has to be now. I've never seen her like that! So we have to go…," she insisted. She released my arm, taking my hand instead. Her hand was hot, squeezing tight.
One more time, she pulled my arm—more gently than before. It felt timid, as if she was testing me. I think she didn't actually know what to do herself. Still holding my hand, she stared at me anxiously.
That was why I gently shook off her grip.
As soon as I did, her arm dropped weakly, and she looked like she was about to cry.
But that wasn't what I meant. I wouldn't take someone's hand out of unease. I didn't want to have someone supporting me because I couldn't walk alone. It wasn't time to hold hands with someone yet. Right now, I'd walk properly—on my own two feet.
"…I can walk by myself. I'm fine. Let's go," I said and headed for the door first.
"Y-yeah!" she called, and I could hear her following. Checking she was behind me, I opened the door and came out into the hallway.
And Iroha Isshiki was right there, frozen in shock.
"Ah, hi… U-uhhh, I meant to say something, but…" She looked panicked as she tried to talk her way out of this, but now wasn't the time to be bothering with her.
"Iroha-chan? Sorry, another time, okay?" Yuigahama turned her aside and ran off.
I was about to follow after her when Isshiki called me to a stop. "Ththere's no meeting today! I came to say that… A-and—"
"Yeah, got it," I replied without letting her finish. Yuigahama was waiting for me a little ways down the hall, but before I could run after her, there was a tug on my blazer's sleeve.
I looked over, thinking, What, already? to see Isshiki sighing in exasperation. Then she pointed upward. "Let me finish, please… Yukinoshita went up the stairs!"
"Sorry. Thanks," I said to Isshiki and immediately called out to Yuigahama. "Yuigahama, she's up above."
Yuigahama rushed straight back to me, and the two of us climbed the stairs of the special-use building.
If Isshiki was right, Yukinoshita had probably run to the aerial corridor.
The fourth-floor hallway that connected the school building and the special building was uncovered, like a roof. Because it was exposed to the wind, it was especially cold around this time of winter, and hardly anyone used it.
We rushed up the stairs to arrive at the landing directly below the aerial corridor.
Opening the glass door, I stepped outside.
The special-use building blocked off the afterglow in the west, and the setting sun poured down on the corridor through the glass. The sky in the east was beginning to grow dark.
On the aerial corridor on the cusp of sunset, we found Yukinoshita.
She was leaning against the railing, lost in thought while her hair fluttered in the cold wind. The sunset illuminated her sleek black hair and white porcelain skin. Her sorrowful eyes gazed into the distance, toward the crowds of tall buildings that were beginning to light up for the night.
"Yukinon!"
Yuigahama ran up to Yukinoshita, and I followed at a slower pace. I was breathing hard after the sprint up the steps.
"Yukinoshita…," I called between pants, but she didn't turn around.
But it seemed she did hear me, nevertheless. "…I…don't understand," she murmured, her voice unsteady.
Those words again.
They stopped my feet right where they were.
A chilly wind blew through, cutting the way between us, and Yukinoshita spun around. Her wet eyes were listless, and her hand against her chest was clenched tight, like she was holding something back.
The wind tossed her hair until it was completely disheveled, but she made no attempt to fix it. With a tinge of hoarseness in her voice, she asked, "What do you mean by something real?"
"Well…"
I didn't really know, myself. I'd never seen anything truly real before and never experienced anything like it. I didn't know what I could point to and say, Yeah, this is it. Of course, there was no way anyone else could understand, either. But that was what I wished for.
When I was unable to reply, Yuigahama stepped forward and gently laid her hand on Yukinoshita's shoulder. "It's okay, Yukinon."
"…What is?" Yukinoshita asked, and Yuigahama smiled bashfully.
"I actually don't really get it, either…" Stroking her bun to cover her awkwardness, Yuigahama retracted her smile. Then she took one more step toward Yukinoshita, placing another hand on Yukinoshita's other shoulder and looking straight at her. "So I think if we talk it over, we'll understand better. But I probably won't get it, even then.
And I probably never will. But, like, I guess I understand that… Actually, I don't really get it. But… But…I…"
A single tear streaked down Yuigahama's cheek.
"I…don't wanna leave it like this…," she said, pulling Yukinoshita into a hug. And as if the thread of tension had broken, she sobbed. Yukinoshita was unable to return her embrace, breaths slipping through her trembling lips.
I shifted my eyes away.
I had mulled it over, but the answer I had given was the only one I could get. Those words were the only ones that would come out. So how could she— How could Yuigahama speak so clearly?
One of us could only employ a roundabout, twisted, and falsehoodtinged truth.
One of us was unable to put the feelings she had into words, and so she kept silent.
You can't communicate without words, and yet words only create more problems—so then exactly what could we understand?
The conviction Yukino Yukinoshita had. The relationship Yui Yuigahama sought. The something real Hachiman Hikigaya wanted.
I still didn't know how different those things might be.
But honest tears were the one thing that told me—that this, right now, wasn't wrong.
Yukinoshita gently stroked Yuigahama's hair, against her shoulder.
"Why are you crying…? You really are…unfair." Clinging to Yuigahama, Yukinoshita pushed her face into the other girl's shoulder. I could hear a quiet sob.
The two of them stood there, supporting each other. Eventually, Yukinoshita exhaled a long breath and lifted her face. "…Hikigaya." "Yeah?" I replied, waiting for her to continue.
Yukinoshita wasn't looking at me. But I still felt the strong, resolute will in her voice. "We accept your request."
"…Sorry." I lowered my head. Despite how short the word was, my voice nearly shook. When I lifted my face, Yuigahama also raised her head from Yukinoshita's shoulder.
"I'll help, too…," she said in a tight voice, turning toward me. When her eyes met mine, she gave me a teary-eyed smile.
"…Thanks," I said, and then for no reason, I looked up at the sky.
The orange sunset was starting to blur.
7: Someday, Yui Yuigahama will…
I went home and collapsed into the couch.
After what had happened, we'd returned to the clubroom in silence. With that indescribable awkwardness and embarrassment still lingering between us, we'd said our farewells and left.
Yukinoshita was the first to depart, saying she was going to return the key, while I ran away to the bicycle parking and Yuigahama dashed off to the bus stop. I feel like the three of us hadn't exchanged more than a handful of words.
Sinking into the sofa, I thought back on what had happened that day. Why did I say something so embarrassing…?
Waaaaagh! I want to die! I want to diiiiie! I don't wanna go to school tomorroooow! I'm such an idiot! I'm such an idiot! You moron! Moron! Wahhhhhhh!
Screaming in my head, I moaned low and rolled around on the sofa. Of course, the sofa wasn't that big, so after about three turns, I fell onto the floor.
The sound startled the family cat; Kamakura jumped out from under the nearby kotatsu, skittered around the room, and then zvezdashed right out of the living room.
I was struck with some completely trivial thoughts, like Seeing a cat running from floor level is more interesting than I thought, and Well, cheetahs are felines, too, and Peter is Shinnosuke Ikehata, huh?
I laid myself facedown there on the carpet.
"…I want to die," I muttered quietly.
When it comes to traumatic flashbacks, there are two stages: first, a high-energy destructive impulse, and then low-energy depression.
I writhed around intensely, then slumped like a puppet with its strings cut, only to do it all over again. It's like when you approach a cicada you think is dead, but it's actually alive and kicking. I'm a bug.
After facing myself and suffering for a while, I started to resign myself to the situation. I breathed a big sigh and then rolled over. Komachi must have just been coming into the living room that moment, as my eyes met with hers when she was right at the door. She seemed very weirded out.
"…What's going on, Bro?" she asked, half in exasperation, half in fear.
Right then, I couldn't even bring myself to want to interact with my adorable little sister. I jerked my head away. "Leave me alone. Big Bro's having a bit of an identity crisis right now," I said in a sluggish and gloomy tone.
Komachi breathed a dramatic sigh. "Listen, Bro."
Since she was addressing me so properly, I turned my neck to look at her. Her eyes were unimpressed, and her mouth was bent in a reverse-V frown. And then, with that strange look on her face, she said, "Identity? What? So the idiot who goes on about individuality this, individuality that all the time has no individuality himself, huh?
If it changes over nothing—some identity, amirite?"
The look on her face was funny, but there was a strange logic to what she was saying. Hey, for real? Yeah, you're right. I'm just about ready to be convinced. The attitude you're giving me is a little irritating, though.
"Dear Komachi, whyever are you talking like that to me? It's not very nice. Also, you're making a weird face," I told her in gentle tones, meaning to chide her for her sudden use of rough language.
I think Komachi was offended by my calling her weird. Her temple twitched. "…I'm imitating you," she retorted, sounding rather miffed.
"It's nothing like me…," I said, but it was true that I'd never paid much attention to my own characteristics. Huh? Do I come off as that irritated? This was a shocking truth to discover for the first time from an objective view. Do I not seem more, like, intellectual, detached, and dark? No?
Huh? That's so strange… Seriously? Ngh…
I was moaning in mild shock, when Komachi sat beside me on the couch. "I dunno what happened, but it's way too late for that twisted personality of yours to be fixed now. You're Hachimanure, as always." As she spoke, she prodded me with her foot where I still lay sprawled out at her feet. She really was treating me like poop. But her foot stopped right there. Resting her elbow on her knee and holding her hand, she looked down at me and giggled. "But Komachi likes you quite a bit anyway. Oh, and that was worth a lot of points, in Komachi terms!" she said and gave her ultimate Komachi smile at the end. Awww, the way she makes unnecessary remarks to hide her shyness might be somewhat similar to a certain someone.
"…Thanks for that. I like me quite a bit, too. And that was worth a lot of points, in Hachiman terms."
"Come on…"
Ignoring Komachi's exasperation, I stood up.
I'd finally come to a decision. I'd probably remember that day again the next evening and writhe in embarrassment again at the flashbacks.
But this was fine. That past was part of what made me who I was now, the person Komachi said she liked quite a bit. Don't designate someone's past a wound. This is what makes me charming.
And if he is such a charming guy, I'm sure I can come to love him.