Upon entering the teachers' room, I headed straight for Miss Hiratsuka's desk.
Among the rows of desks, I discovered her sitting at one that was particularly messy. She was in front of her computer, clattering away on the keyboard as she occasionally drew soba out from the take-out bowl at her side.
Eating again, huh…? "Miss Hiratsuka."
"Hmm? Ohhh, it's you, Hikigaya. Why's everyone here?"
"We wanted to ask about something…"
"Hmm? Mmm." Miss Hiratsuka glanced over at the bowl, then paused as if considering a bit.
"We won't mind if you keep eating," Yukinoshita told her.
"Oh? Sorry." Miss Hiratsuka gave an apologetic laugh, then picked up the bowl. Spinning her chair around to turn her profile to us, she took her chopsticks in hand. After slurping up some soba, she prompted us to continue. "So then what were you asking about?" "We were thinking about making a free magazine," said Isshiki.
Surprised, Miss Hiratsuka dubiously parroted, "A free magazine?"
Isshiki began to explain the plan to publish it. With Yukinoshita supplementing where necessary, we showed the teacher the summary, the pamphlet, and the estimate.
"We've already gotten a quote," Yukinoshita explained, "and it's possible to get this within the budget. As for the content, we've put a general plan together. It's still rough, though."
"Hmm." While occasionally slurping on her soba, Miss Hiratsuka examined the materials with interest. After flipping through the papers, she seemed to get the gist and raised her head again. "Well, you're totally free to do it… But couldn't you do it on straw paper, using a mimeograph?"
Yuigahama tilted her head. "Straw paper?"
"What? Mimeograph?" Isshiki gave Miss Hiratsuka an unconvinced look—actually, it was just downright rude.
This girl has a serious attitude problem…
In normal circumstances, this was Miss Hiratsuka's cue to offer educational guidance, but it seemed she didn't have the energy. "Oh, you've never heard of those…," she muttered weakly, breaking into this worn, bitter, somehow self-deprecating smile.
"I've heard of them, but I've never seen them in real life…," Yukinoshita admitted apologetically, as if finishing her off.
"Of course…," Miss Hiratsuka answered, voice trembling slightly.
It was inevitable, seeing how advancements in machinery and paper improved by the day. And hey, a mimeograph? Even at her age, I doubted she's seen the real thing… Uh, though I obviously didn't know her age.
And then said thirtyish woman of unknown age slumped over, cradling her bowl. "Well, just give it a shot," she muttered and offered nothing more as she sadly began to slurp her now soggy soba…
Now that we had received permission from Miss Hiratsuka, finally, we began the actual work.
I borrowed another laptop so that we could all deal with the tasks allotted to us, and I began typing up what we needed.
That was when Yukinoshita ambled over to me. "Hikigaya, do you have a moment?"
"Uh-huh," I replied, and she sat down diagonally across from me, spreading out the transmittal form. The transmittal form is, simply put, a summary listing the composition of each page and the assigned editor.
Yukinoshita tapped one corner of the draft. "The problem is what to do with the cover page."
"Wouldn't it be easiest just to avoid the problem with a simple design or photo?"
"Or a picture with a caption and something like a logo or a border around it?"
"Yeah, I figure it just has to look like we got inspo from Time or Forbes."
"Yes, I think making an obvious homage might make it more aesthetic."
"And that'll shave off some time."
As we were talking, I felt eyes on us from a distance. Isshiki was looking at us with an expression of pure horror. "I have no idea what you two are talking about…"
"Yeah? Me neither!" Yuigahama admitted, leaning over her desk.
She seemed almost glad to have company…? The two buddies were right in the middle of making a form to request comments from the clubs. We had our own discussion to move along.
Yukinoshita was making notes in the layout draft when her hand paused, and she brought her pen to smoosh into her cheek. "So that's our design direction. The question is the subject matter."
"We can just go with a photo of Isshiki. She's the president, after all." I jabbed my thumb in the direction of the girl in question.
Isshiki waved her hands wildly. "Huh? You mean, like, gravure? Swimsuits are off the table for me."
"Who cares… And hey, we never asked you to do that." Just what else is off the table for her…?
I could see she was playing up her coy act to seem purer. When you get to my level, you stop believing in terms like the girl next door, or amateur, or magic mirror.
"…Oh, really?" Isshiki must have been offended, as her voice was weirdly cold, and there was a sharpness to the flash in her narrowed eyes. She pulled her lips in a tight downward V, putting her hand to her chest as she considered awhile. Eventually, she got this nasty smirk like she'd had an idea, then did an about-face. "Okaaay then, who are you asking to do it? Ohhh, Yui?"
"H-hey! I—I can't do that! No way! Absolutely no way!" With Isshiki yanking her, Yuigahama pitched forward, and her skin peeked out from her loose collar, emphasizing her chest. I felt myself magnetically drawn to it, but with force of will, I tore my eyes away.
I won't give in! I can't give in to temptation!
I somehow managed to lift my gaze, but then our eyes met. Yuigahama's cheeks were bright red, and she hugged her shoulders as if hiding her body. "Ah, I mean…th-that stuff is too embarrassing… There's no way… People seeing me like that would be too much…" She paused between words, turning her face away. She was red to the neck. Once she was done talking, she flicked me this little questioning glance, and her eyes seemed hot, too.
Frankly, I feel like a certain sector would very much enjoy seeing her on the cover, but I don't think I'd find that situation pleasant. I mean, look, she doesn't want to do it, all right? "Uh, I wouldn't… Like, I'd never do…something like that."
"R-really? …Oh, good." Yuigahama seemed relieved, her shoulders relaxing. I let go of some tension as well, letting out a deep sigh.
Once Yuigahama had calmed down, I hit on the reason the conversation had gone in this direction. "And wait, gravure doesn't mean swimsuit photography. I think, like, printing a page of photos? Or something like that is called gravure."
Right? Miss Yukipedia? I turned to Yukinoshita. She'd been fiddling with her ribbon tie this whole time, but when my eyes met with hers, she jerked her gaze away. Then she retied her ribbon. "…"
I heard a faint sigh. I wish she would stop going silent at moments like these…
"Anyway, a normal uniform photo is fine. Okay, next. Yukinoshita, what do we do about the back cover?" I changed the topic, and Yukinoshita narrowed her eyes at me for just a second. It seemed that despite her lack of reply, she did basically intend to listen.
I just went on ahead. "Will we put ads in? Like for mysterious prayer beads, or speed-reading techniques, or exercise machines, or health goods," I said, irresponsibly imagining pictures of Zaimokuza in a bathtub full of cash.
Finally, Yukinoshita spoke up. "It's not realistic to start searching for places that would advertise with us this late. If we're going to continue publishing this in the future, then it would be fine to look into it, but it's not feasible this time, at least. Since we don't have material, we should fill the space with written content," she said dispassionately, eyes still on the layout.
I considered a bit. "Something like a column, or an editor's note? …Well, I'll handle that stuff."
"Yes, please do," Yukinoshita replied briefly, and then as usual, she began carrying out her task without looking at me. The scratching of her ballpoint pen was particularly loud.
Dear me, is she still bothered by that earlier conversation…? It's not like there's anything to worry about…
It's okay! There's still hope! Genetically speaking, of course!
I was tasked with writing and taking photos, which was the job I'd asked for. That meant I needed to interview the clubs. There wasn't much time, so we were splitting into two groups for the job: me and Isshiki, then Yuigahama and Yukinoshita. If you took an average of our communication and academic skills, then, well, it was a fair way to divide us up. We went for the boys' clubs, while Yukinoshita and Yuigahama would be mainly interviewing the girls' clubs.
Our first subject for interview was, of course…the tennis club!
Yuigahama had handled making the appointment beforehand, so Isshiki and I just went down to the tennis court, where the cold winds whistled by.
"Your receive is slow! You can try a little harder!" The cute voice that rang across the court was that of the tennis club captain, Totsuka. Racket over one shoulder and the other hand on his waist, he was pushing the younger members. It seemed Mr. Captain was now good and used to the job.
When we came up to the side of the court, Totsuka noticed us and waved a hand as he came trotting over. "Hachiman! And Isshiki!
Hello."
"Sorry for bothering you." Matching Isshiki as she gave an extrapolite bow, I also gave a wave in greeting.
"Oh, no, it's totally fine! Um, you were going to take pictures? Go ahead anytime." Totsuka gave a little shake of his head, then spread his arms and spun around, gesturing to the tennis court. Then he turned his head to me and smiled.
Yep, I'd say I'm all ready!
"Then let's get right to it…," I said.
Totsuka with his arms spread was cute, so that was the first shot. I raised the camera and snapped the shutter. Then Totsuka seemed confused, so one more. Then he tilted his head cutely, so I took another. And then as I was raising the camera again to get a photo of Totsuka's curious expression, he started to talk to me. "Umm…weren't you taking pictures of practice?"
"That too. But first, this," I declared—quite boldly, openly, and emphatically, for me.
Totsuka seemed overwhelmed by the force of my remark, as he faltered slightly. "O-oh…I'm a little embarrassed… Hmm…"
Shy about having his picture taken, he put his hands to his face to hide his blushing, looking indecisive, but then he glanced over to the tennis court. "But if new students see this, they might join the club…"
"Yeah, the new students might read this to get information," I said. Yuigahama had told him about the aim of this free magazine when she had made the appointment. This would also be a good opportunity for the clubs to get exposure.
Totsuka lifted his head resolutely. "I-I'll do my best…" Then he clenched a little fist in front of his chest to get himself fired up. "O-okay then…let's do our best." It was good that I'd managed to win over Totsuka, but despite my own words, I was feeling like I'd used smooth talk to lure him into a photo shoot. Why do I feel so guilty…? No, wait. This feeling isn't guilt… It's the feeling of corruption! This is actually getting me more motivated, in a way!
"Okay, let me keep snapping these photos."
"Yeah!" he answered with spirit, and I raised the camera.
"This time, try holding up the racket."
"O-okay."
I got a shot of Totsuka swinging the racket from a low angle, then a dynamic shot of him taking a step forward, and then when he lost his balance, I captured him in my finder again. A perfect shot!
I got all the photos of Totsuka in motion I wanted, and the photo session moved on to the next stage.
"Okay, try hugging the racket next."
"Uh-huh… Huh?" Totsuka cocked his head in puzzlement but nevertheless squeezed the racket tight to his chest. I got a photo burst, hot shots, and then even a panorama shot. As an option, we added a towel. Nice, nice, let's get a little bolder, I thought while enthusiastically snapping photos.
Off to the side, Isshiki was quite severely disturbed. "Isn't that enough…?"
"Is it? Well, I guess."
"It is." She nodded emphatically.
Indeed, she had a point. "You're right—that's enough for the racket.
Okay, then let's go without the racket." "What?" Isshiki froze on the spot.
But I ignored her, peering through the finder as I planned out the next stage of the shoot. "You all right, Totsuka?"
"…Yeah." His response was a little dispirited. Maybe he was getting worn-out.
It was kind of like when my cat got tired of all the attention. In other words, Totsuka is just that cute!
Under my instructions, Totsuka put the racket at his feet and sat down, hugging his knees. I took shots from different angles, from the front to the left diagonal. I had him make various poses, alternating looking at the camera and away. For shots where he was looking at the camera, I got him both smiling and showing ennui.
"H-Hachiman…are we done?" Totsuka asked, his smile strained and voice stuttering.
"O-oh, yeah…" It did seem he was a bit fatigued. What should I do…? I thought, and it hit me. "Let's break for a bit." "There's more…?" His shoulders slumped.
Mm-hmm, it seems my decision to take a break was not mistaken after all. As I was making camera adjustments to prepare for the second half, checking the photos I'd taken so far, I had a terrible realization.
"Isshiki," I called out to her.
She must already have gotten sick of dealing with me, as she was standing quite a ways apart from us, watching from a distance. She dragged herself over to me like this was a huge pain. "What is it?"
"You don't have any extra memory cards? We're out of space."
"How many photos have you taken…?"
"I've actually deleted the extras, you know…"
Isshiki sighed. Then she grabbed a fistful of my blazer sleeve and began dragging me away.
"That's enough! Totsuka, thank you for your time," she called out.
Totsuka stopped cradling his knees, snapping his head up to smile at us. "Oh, okay. I should thank you guys, really."
I would very much have liked to capture that smile in a photo, but Isshiki was yanking me away, so I would not get my hot shot or my photo burst. And so, to capture it in the photo album of my mind, I captured one last shot in my heart.
With Isshiki pulling me along by the sleeve, we headed for the soccer club.
Their practice was out on the sports field right beside the tennis court, so it wasn't much of a trip. Good thing, because I wasn't much of a fan of their club.
I figured I'd just take two or three easy photos and go, but Isshiki was not letting that happen.
"Oh, right around there, please center Hayama in your shot. Oh, right now, go!" Tap-tapping on my shoulder, she gave me minute instructions on exactly when to take pictures. And then when I was done, she checked over the photos. "Show me, please… Oh, Tobe wound up in this one. Delete!" she announced, erasing the photo and shoving the camera back at me.
Well, whatever, if it's just Tobe… Nobody will care whether he makes it in.
This sort of thing went on for quite some time, which meant we didn't make much progress.
"Hey, haven't we done enough?" I said. "There's no more space…"
"And whose fault is that?" Isshiki puffed up her cheeks as she glared at me out of the corner of her eye. I didn't really have a good comeback. In the end, I was forced to take photos the whole time, until the scrimmage was over.
When they were finally done with their practice game, Hayama walked over to us.
"Hayamaaaa!" Isshiki called, waving, and he casually waved back in response.
"I did hear the broad strokes from Yui. She says you're making a free magazine? I see you're doing whatever people ask of you again." Though he wore a charming smile, there was a flicker of exasperation in his voice.
"Like I've said," I told him, "that's just what the job is. And I don't wanna hear that from someone who left his club early to get interviewed. Sorry for bothering you."
"That's a weird way to thank me." Hayama shrugged and smiled, then turned his face toward the courtyard. "You must be cold. Why don't we do the interview over there?"
"Ah, good idea."
The courtyard piloti area was enclosed by the school building, so the wind couldn't get in. With a beaming smile, Isshiki took the lead, heading for a spot that looked good. Right beside the vending machine was a bench, though a simple one. Isshiki sat down, patting the spot beside herself to beckon Hayama. So calculated…
I let Hayama go on ahead while I bought a can of black coffee and some black tea at the vending machine. Juggling the scorching cans, I stood opposite from Hayama.
"You just have to say whatever sounds good. You're good at that, aren't you?" I asked, tossing the coffee at Hayama.
Catching it, he looked at the can with surprise, but then he let out a little whiff of a sigh and chuckled wryly. "Are you being sarcastic?"
"That was totally a compliment. Whatever. Thanks for taking us up on this."
"…Well, I'll do my best to meet your expectations," Hayama said, breaking into a broad smile. Then he lightly raised one hand to me and turned back to Isshiki.
"Well then, let's get this interview started!" Isshiki activated the audio recorder on her phone, and I set down the tea beside her, then backed up about two steps and raised the camera to get a shot.
The Hayama beyond my finder was, as I'd known he would be, the same Hayato Hayama everyone knew—but he seemed a little different from the boy who had just been joking with a wry smile.
We finished Hayama's interview and photography session, following which we went around to a number of clubs, and then the interviewing and photography for the clubs we were supposed to be handling was done. I'd managed to get a photo of Hayama doing that gesture like he was spinning a pottery wheel, so when it came to the ratio of usable footage, it should be good.
Yuigahama and Yukinoshita had been mostly handling the girls' clubs and would be done soon, by this time. Then the only picture left to take would be of Iroha Isshiki, who would decorate the cover of the free magazine.
At the request of the model for this shoot, we would do it in the library.
We circled from the courtyard around to the front entrance, swapped into our indoor shoes, and passed in front of the teachers' room to head to the library.
Once it got a little late after school, there were hardly any students using the library, and it was peaceful.
"So why here…?" I asked Isshiki's back.
She was doing a full lap of the space, walking around searching for the best photo spot. When I asked that question, she spun around to face me.
"Makes me seem more intellectual, right?"
"And what you just said makes you seem less intellectual…"
"It's fine. I only need the image." She stuck her nose in the air, then started walking again, pausing many times.
She seemed to finally reach a decision and sat down at an available table with a bookshelf behind her. Then she took out a compact mirror and began cheerfully checking her looks.
The tall bookshelf towered over her protectively, the dark colors of the book spines casting her in sharp relief. Perhaps so people could read comfortably, the library was bright, even close to nighttime, giving Isshiki's pale skin a warm glow.
Being an amateur, I couldn't really delve into further detail, but still,
Isshiki had created the picture-perfect image. As expected of Iroha Isshiki—I guess this means she knows how to make herself look attractive.
"Okay. Let me take a few," I said to her, and instead of a reply, she posed herself with her chin in her hand, elbow on the desk.
Her puppy-dog eyes examined me invitingly, emphasizing her dewy pupils and long eyelashes, and the little proud smile on her lips had a lingering innocence, despite the alluring pink of her soft lips.
Though I was properly pointing the lens at her, I'd forgotten to click the shutter. I heard someone clear their throat and shook myself out of it.
After I snapped a few photos, I lowered the camera. And then, while checking over the data I'd just taken, to cover how I'd been zoning out, I said, "You're used to being photographed, huh…?"
Isshiki was right in the middle of looking in the mirror, considering various options as she attempted a new pose. She tilted her head at her reflection. "You think? Isn't it normal to take pictures all the time?"
"Not all the time." I think trips, events, and special times are the kinds of things to commemorate, and we do that with pictures. At the very least, that's what I've been taught.
But Isshiki was saying something completely different. She snapped her compact mirror shut and glanced over at me, and though my camera was not pointed at her, she had on a soft smile. "But memories are important, right?" That was normal to Iroha Isshiki.
She said she made no distinction between the mundane and the extraordinary, and that even the same old sights of nothing new or special were precious memories to be embraced.
"…Yeah."
With only that brief reply, I once again raised the camera, thinking…
All right, is this photo a memory of the mundane, or a record of the extraordinary?
A few days had passed since we'd assembled most of the material and commenced production. We were making progress on the club introductions and the hot spot guides, and the interview article was mostly done. The design work was also going smoothly, filling up pages from the cover onward.
The articles would be just about done, after some adjustments like adding in minor captions and massaging the headlines. And the comments from the captains were mostly there with some minor text corrections.
It was going well. Or it should have been.
I'd done a neat job with the club introduction text, the articles on the recommended spots, the audio tape transcription of the interviews, and the translation of those in Isshiki-speak. We had gotten the clubs to check over the photos we'd taken. And even with the cover, when Isshiki had said she wanted it photoshopped, I had safely settled the matter with some soothing and coaxing.
But. But, for some reason, my writing was still not done.
"How did this happen…?"
Was it because I had been taking this seriously? It's true I'd been hard at work. I had not only done the writing of the regular article page, I had also helped out Yukinoshita, and I had gone to prompt the UG Club for comments in Yuigahama's stead.
I'd spent these past few days diligently and busily, for me. Perhaps that was why…so occupied in the flurry, I had carelessly forgotten other work…
We had two days until the deadline! I still had the whole column to do.
As I was holding my head in my hands in despair, Isshiki, standing beside me, poured some tea out of a plastic bottle and offered it to me. "Here you go. Good luck," she said, putting the plastic bottle away in the mini fridge under the desk. She sat herself down diagonally across from me.
The tea was different from usual, the desk was different from usual, the chair was different from usual. And the room was a different one from usual, too.
I was presently being confined to the student council room, where, under surveillance, I was to write the column. The heater in the clubroom still wasn't fixed yet, so Isshiki had very kindly offered the student council room to be my personal prison.
I glanced out the window and saw it was already evening. Even if I wanted to know the exact time, my cell phone had been confiscated, so there was no way for me to know. When I swept my gaze across the student council room, the table clock pointed to a cruel number.
I had not taken one step out of here since I'd been brought to this room immediately after school. The reason was: The deadline was the next day.
Waughhh, this is bad… I haven't written anything… I can't imagine making this in time…
I just typed away on the keyboard to get the words down, but I wasn't satisfied with them and erased them halfway. I kept doing it over and over. Oh man, ohhhh man. I'm not gonna make it at this raaaate!
Seeing me flail in panic at my desk, Isshiki leaned away in disgust. Her expression seemed to want to say, Eugh… She was giving little shakes of her head, but then she seemed to notice something with a jolt, and she fished around in her blazer pocket.
"You've got a call," she said, taking my cell phone out of her pocket to hold it out to me.
But when a phone call comes to you when you're right before a deadline, there's no way it can be anything good. I mean, if you can force something to exist, anime would never need recap episodes, and the postponement of on-sale dates due to authors' personal circumstances wouldn't be a thing.
So when you get a call at a time like this, it's best to check who it is, then ignore it.
"…From who? Editorial?" I asked.
Isshiki sighed in exasperation. "If Editorial is the first thing out of your mouth, you must be stressed, huh…? Um… Ah, it says Mom. Is that your mom?"
"…From Editorial's mom? …Their whole family is gonna come monitor me?"
"No? Why would that happen? It's from your mom, probably."
"Oh. I'll call her back later, so you can just leave it."
"Uh-huh, is that right?" With that short reply, Isshiki tucked my phone back into her pocket. And then she flipped through a bunch of papers probably related to the closing of the accounts, checking through them and occasionally stamping.
With her doing work beside me, I started to feel like I had to work, too… Left with no choice, I began clacking away on the keyboard.
More time passed.
It was already dark outside the window, and eventually, it would be time to go home. Isshiki must have finished her task at some point, as I couldn't hear stamping anymore. When I glanced over at her, she was on her phone.
Maybe I'm good for the day, too… There's still tomorrow, after all. If I can work harder tomorrow than I did today, I could finish it… As soon as that hit me, my focus immediately evaporated.
"It's no use. I can't write anymore today. You can't write anything good if you rush it. I have no choice but to go take a break, go home, and sleep," I declared loudly.
Lifting her face from her phone, Isshiki looked at me. She let out a sigh of exasperation, but the look on her face was kind. "Agh, welll, I guess it's fine."
"Right? It's fine for it to be just a bit late." I think they call it a writer's high or something. The excess pre-deadline stress, the exhaustion of continuous work, and this mysterious feeling of elation caused by escaping from reality left me laughing, "Na-ha-ha!"
Isshiki's face stiffened. "…Huh? You're not gonna make it?"
"W-well, who knows…"
The column was in fact just a few thousand characters, and if I worked hard that day and the next, it wasn't as if managing it was impossible. Well, given how I'd failed to write even a few hundred characters over the past few hours, it seemed unlikely.
I hesitated to speak honestly about this. As for why—because even before I'd explained anything, Isshiki was holding her head in her hands.
"That's not good… Not good at all… Ummm, that's really bad, isn't it?" Facedown on the desk, Isshiki moaned, then slowly looked over to me, her eyes a little dewy. She was muttering quietly to herself. "The funds…the early discount…additional fees…over budget…the year's balance…"
From her reaction, I understood. When doing up the budget, Isshiki had assumed we would make it in time for that discount plan she'd mentioned, and she'd already written it down on the annual accounting report form.
Of course, I'd assume it was possible to make adjustments to that report.
This situation had been brought about because a certain Somethingman Something-gaya had arrogantly taken on this project and started talking big about how he would manage somehow in a few days, then put off the column he'd brought up himself by saying "Yeah, I can dash it off real quick. Easy." Getting cocky never ends well…
"…Th-this is bad, huh…? Uh-huh. I-I'll put in a bit more effort, okay?" I said.
"Y-you will? Please do…" Isshiki's eyes glimmered as she looked up at me. There was none of her usual cunning there, and I could see through to her honest self, more childish than normal.
If she's gonna show me that, then I have no choice but to do it, even if I have to force myself…
There lies the deadline I absolutely cannot fail to make.
To tell the truth, I just can't. Sorry for saying this out of the blue. But it's the truth.
In a few hours, a very ordinary bell will ring.
That will be the signal for the deadline.
An editor with a small chest will come, so watch out.
Following which, after a brief few moments, the end will come.
I was zoning out.
I'd psyched myself up by saying I absolutely could not, would not fail to make this deadline—but the next day after school, I was yet again borrowing the use of student council space, locked alone in the room by myself until I finished the job. The after-school writing session from the day prior felt like a distant dream.
Despite having gotten a second wind the day before and tried for a while, just like Chiyonofuji in the sumo ring when he was at the limits of his strength, I had burned out and gone home. After getting home, I'd made a tiny bit more progress, and then during class, I'd written some more on my phone, but I still couldn't see the end.
And now I was looking out the window of the empty student council room, gazing up at the setting sun. Of course, I was making no progress on the draft.
Oh crap… The clack-clack was not coming from the keyboard, but from my bones as they trembled in fear.
That was when a knock came on the door of the student council room.
"How are things going, Hikki?" Yuigahama asking, clipping through the door. It seemed she'd come to check on my progress.
"…M-my conservative guess? About seventy percent."
"Oh, that's great!"
"…Left to do," I added quietly, and Yuigahama let out a tiny cry. Same, Yuigahama. I'm screwed…
As I was hanging my head, Yuigahama approached my desk and planted a hand on my shoulder. "Let's do our best! It's okay—you'll make it in time! I'll work here with you, too!"
That just means she's going to be monitoring me…
Normally, I would refuse to work under surveillance, but the situation was what it was. I had to keep the pressure up, or I was bound to drop the ball. I mean, if this were a part-time job, I'd be flaking out, but being monitored by Isshiki the day before and then Yuigahama that day, too, I'd have to do it. There's a thing called temper for steel and men…
Finding my motivation once more, I faced the draft. I brought the cursor to my current spot so I could write from where I'd left off. And then, when I managed to wring out a few lines more, despair came to assault me yet again. Every time I looked at the blank space of the draft, I was made aware of how few characters I'd written, compared with the time that had progressed.
In one day, I had only made 20 percent progress. Filling up the remaining 80 percent in a few more hours was physically impossible; if I could make it now, then the laws of the universe meant nothing!
Wagh… As I was overcome by reality, I heard a clattering sound beside me that was different from my own typing. When I happened to look over, I saw Yuigahama sitting there, tapping into a calculator with a ballpoint pen in one hand.
"…What're you doing?" I asked her.
Sticking her red pen behind her ear, she turned to me. "Hmm? Um, adding up all the expenses. Since when I looked at it, it seemed a little rough."
"Isshiki's pretty sloppy with the bookkeeping…"
"Ahhh, yeah… Well, me and Yukinon will make sure to handle that stuff!" she said with a forced smile. It was somehow big sisterly—it seemed she was trying to do her part to take care of Isshiki, her junior.
The problem was that said cute junior often spelled trouble. I mean, like, her whole thing with coming to the clubroom was already pretty bad…
However, this is just how work is.
There's one big liar, and work comes from the process of making their big lie a reality. Out in the adult world, you call those big liars producers. In that sense, maybe you could say Isshiki was producer material. So then in terms of this whole affair, Yukinoshita was the director, and Yuigahama was the assistant director, I guess. And with this job, as always, I'd be the miserable, low-ranking, subcontracted corporate cog.
To perform my labor, as befit a menial worker, I once again faced my computer. But I just kept writing a few lines and then erasing them over and over, and I couldn't manage to make solid progress.
Eventually, I was spending more and more time gazing out the window at the sunset, or at the clock, rather than looking at the computer screen.
The passage of time alone is enough to press the spirit to the limit. And with the exhaustion of sitting at the computer for a long time, before I knew it, I was letting out a deep sigh.
"Are you okay, Hikki?" Yuigahama must have heard my big sigh, as she rose from her seat and came up a few steps to stand beside me, examining my face with concern.
Her face was so close that if I reached out, I could just about touch it. She was near enough that I could practically hear her breathe. The proximity and eye contact made me embarrassed, and thoughtlessly, I pretended to gulp and turned my head away.
"It doesn't look okay, schedule-wise…," I muttered to cover my embarrassment, when suddenly, a weight came down on my shoulder.
"If you don't make it, then we cross that bridge when we get there."
When I turned just my head around to look back at her, I found Yuigahama's small hand gently sitting on my shoulder. Her thin fingers clenched into a fist, grabbing the fabric of my blazer. "I'll apologize with you, and I think Iroha-chan will understand, too. It was kinda too much to begin with."
"Well, it's true, but…," I said, twisting around in an attempt to escape her hand, but it wouldn't move away. Eventually, she began to tap, tap away on my shoulder in small motions.
"It's not like it's your fault. If we abandon this now, nobody's gonna blame us. It's not like it's something we absolutely have to do, anyway."
Her remark was a little surprising. Yuigahama had never expressed negativity toward any of the requests the Service Club had accepted before.
Confused, I turned my whole body without thinking and saw a weak little smile on her face. "…I don't think I want you to have a hard time, Hikki."
"That's such an unfair thing to say."
For a comment that just popped out of my mouth, my tone was gentle enough that even I could tell. You could even call it weak and listless. If she was going to say that in such a calm voice while tapping on my shoulder, of course my shoulders would relax.
But it also built a tension in me.
I'm not yet so detached that I could back down now after a wonderful girl said that to me. The very offer of such kind and sweet words was why I could not rely on them or let myself off the hook. So no matter how stupid this whole project was, even if this had been an unreasonable ask, I couldn't leave it now.
"I guess it is unfair…" Yuigahama's hand stopped. It just gently lay on my shoulder, then eventually slowly lowered.
"Ah, I mean, that was just, like, a figure of speech." It's a bit rude to accuse ill of someone who was showing concern for you. I turned around in my chair, properly facing Yuigahama with my whole body. And then, despite my fluster, I struggled to find the appropriate way to express this.
But Yuigahama didn't wait, giving a big nod. "…Yeah, maybe I am being unfair!" she said in a bright voice with a smile, as if I'd somehow won her over.
I really couldn't figure out what that reaction meant. To communicate my intentions as precisely as possible, I said, "I didn't mean it like that. It's, like, actually in a good way, I mean…"
She gave a little shake of her head to cut me off. "I think I really am unfair… It's always like, I can't really stop you, and I can't really help you. And, well…everything else." Maybe she was thinking aloud, because she faltered frequently. But I think that just meant the words came from somewhere deep within. It's like when people speak vaguely with a shy smile or look away—there were feelings she was trying to cover up.
Nevertheless, she was looking straight at me this time.
"So… So that's why… Next time this sort of thing happens, I'll be better."
In her earnest expression and the words she delivered slowly, there was an empty vagueness that grounded me in reality. Eventually, anyone will do it right. You have to. Though you don't know how or what, or if you can do it. I'm sure anyone will be thinking something along those lines.
Of course, I'm no exception there. That was why first, for the time being, I had to do the thing in front of me. I turned my chair around and faced the computer once more.
"It's fine. I'm always just doing my own thing. You're not at fault for not stopping me. I mean, like, it's my fault for being the one who makes promises without thinking them through. So, well…I'll try to figure it out somehow."
"…Okay… Then let's do our best!" she said with cheer and gave my back an energetic push.
Ahhh, nooo! I wanna go home! I don't care! I don't care about the draft submission or the revisions or completion! I've had enough of being hounded by deadlines and being locked up to work! I'm quitting work and this draft!
"Wahhh!" I landed facedown on the desk. I was currently alone in the student council room, so I could scream to my heart's content.
I'd handed Yuigahama a printout of my work in progress and had her give it to Yukinoshita for me. After that, my focus had completely broken.
Well, I had somehow, some way, brought it to the 80 percent point. With that added motivation I'd gotten from Yuigahama, I think I'd tried pretty hard, for me.
However, the remaining 20 percent just wouldn't come out. I leaned into the back of my chair and looked up at the ceiling. Ahhh, I wish the Illuminati would come down on me… I would like to be permanently banished from ever working again…!
I believe focus is not continuous, but something that comes in short bursts. That's why pulling a couple of all-nighters is not going to push your progress ahead dramatically, and systematic progress on a regular basis is important. But there's no point in coming to that realization right before the deadline, huh? It's just like before exams, seriously.
Still staring up at the ceiling, I was zoning out like my batteries were drained when there came a knocking on the door of the student council room. Lacking the energy to answer, I just looked in that direction, but despite my lack of reply, the visitor entered.
"Are you done?" Addressing me was Yukinoshita, her bag flung over her shoulder.
"…If I were, I'd have told you."
"True," she said as if that made sense to her, and then she ambled up to me and pulled out some papers from her bag, marked up in red ink. "The printouts I just received. Right here, this is a sentence fragment that's missing the back half."
"O-okay."
I accepted the pages from her, and as I skimmed over them, a number of errors caught my eye, including the missing sentence. As I applied her corrections to my draft, I continued to feel a presence beside me. "…Did you have some business?"
"Oh, no…it's not enough to call business," Yukinoshita said, sounding a little rattled, folding her hands behind her before stepping away to pull out a chair beside me. She rummaged through her bag a moment, soon found a file folder, and pulled it out to begin some task.
It seemed she was going to work here while monitoring me. Her presence meant there was really no time before the deadline.
She didn't have to put pressure on me. I understood just fine how bad this was.
Once I was done applying the corrections from the printouts she'd given me, I scrolled down the screen to finish off the remaining 20 percent.
It was only a few hundred characters left.
If I just wrote that much, then I'd fill the space, at least.
Although that would make up the difference, if the column was shoddy, the one to get the heat for it would be the editor-in-chief, Isshiki. I couldn't accept this task so casually, then act like I didn't give a damn if she got bashed.
Ultimately, I was forced to make a completed product of a certain level of quality. Or rather, if I wrote junk, then I'd get hit with corrections from our editor, Yukinoshita, and then also from the editor-in-chief, Isshiki. Rather than getting hounded by their revisions, it would be faster to put serious effort into writing from the start.
Mustering up my final dregs of energy, I kept on typing at the keyboard. One minute, then two minutes passed on the time display under the screen as I filled line after line of white.
Eventually, my hands came to a stop, and they moved no more after that. The words slipped out of me, my voice utterly drained without my noticing. "…I'm done."
"Oh, really?" Hearing me, Yukinoshita sounded glad as she started to stand.
I raised a hand to stop her, pitching straight forward to slump my face on the desk. "No. I'm done for. I can't do it. It's no use. I can't think of anything. Not a single character will come out…"
"That's what you meant…" With an exasperated sigh, Yukinoshita sat back down in her chair. "That's a problem. We have no more time, you know?"
"Yeah, I do get that, but still…"
I understood it horribly well. But my head would just not work, no matter what. My brain had low motivation to work in the first place, so this seemed out of my control. Just as a wrung rag won't let out a single drop of water, not one more word would come out of me.
I leaned all the way back in my chair and looked up at the ceiling. I was all out of options…
My hands, curled up in front of the keyboard, would not move, but neither would they leave the keyboard. My body faced up to the ceiling, just like the corpse of a bug. I'm an insect…an incompetent louse that can't even make it on time for a deadline. Starting tomorrow, I will go by Insect Hachiman. And then I will chuck my human card into the ocean…
As I was staring up at the ceiling, my mind lost and abandoned, Yukinoshita slid into my field of view. Looking down at me, she seemed somehow unsettled. "…Here," she said, and she dropped something wrapped in a handkerchief on my chest.
Raising my head and picking up the bundle, I found it was slightly warm. When I opened up the handkerchief with cute cat footprints, a MAX Coffee emerged from within. It seemed she had made a basic effort to keep it warm.
Seeing this, I let a smile slip.
"Go clear your head. This isn't something that will somehow work out if you just keep staring at the screen. It's best to take a bit of a break," she advised, turning her face away, before returning to sit in her chair and resuming her task.
"Thanks…" I decided to accept the gift with gratitude. After opening the tab, I zoned out while sipping the coffee and gazed at her profile.
Yukinoshita's hands never stopped all the while. She never said a word; the only sound was the scratch of her red pen running over paper. I felt like I was hearing that sound an unusual number of times.
"…Is it that bad?" I asked.
"Huh?" She turned to face me. Then her gaze dropped to the paper in her hands. It seemed she understood what I was trying to say. She waved her red pen, then touched it to her lips as she said, "…Yes, but it's just things like typos and kanji errors. There's nothing horrendous, so don't worry. In fact, I'd say the other two had more errors." Yukinoshita giggled, as if it were a joke. She looked rather more innocent than usual, and it felt appropriate to her age.
"I mean, you've kind of been penning in a lot of red, so it made me a little anxious."
"Oh, yes, I just forgot to mention we're adding phonetics to the difficult kanji, so I'm putting it in directly myself. Just while I'm doing the revisions."
"Sorry for giving you more work."
I hadn't meant anything in saying that, but Yukinoshita's hand stopped, and she set her red pen down on the desk. Her shoulders slumped despondently. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I should have made sure to confirm your progress, and I should have known even you would make mistakes."
"Uh, naw, really, this was just me underestimating how long it would take. And wait, the heck? Is that super-high-level sarcasm…?" I asked.
She smiled and gave a little shake of her head. "Yes, but…I mean I was also underestimating the situation."
So she really was being sarcastic…
Regardless, it was clear that both of us had made errors in judgment. We had still not reached an understanding when it came to me, to her, or about ourselves. It was just like this moment of indeterminate day and night, when the colors of the twilight reached across the sky out the window, and by the time you think you've figured it out, the moment has passed, and the colors are changing again.
"I'm the one who's done the least," she muttered, looking vaguely out at the glow of the sunset.
"It's enough. Neither I nor Yuigahama are any good at keeping a schedule or project management. And Isshiki is decent at talking big and balancing the books, but she isn't the type who can keep a project moving systematically…," I answered as I gazed out at the same sunset.
But she and I probably saw different colors. Was hers red, pink, scarlet, crimson, burgundy? Or was it orange? I wouldn't really mind no matter what shade it was.
"Well, so…you've been fairly helpful." Pulling my eyes from the window, I returned my attention to the student council room.
The sunlight streaming in cast crimson over the room. When I turned to Yukinoshita, sitting beside me, her head was downcast, and I couldn't tell what was on her face. But her ears and neck, peeking out from under her hair, were also that same color.
"…I…hope so." That little murmur seemed lacking in confidence, almost sulking, after a short sigh.
But that was only for an instant. She immediately lifted her face, sweeping her hair off her shoulders to say in her usual commanding tone, "I'll make some adjustments on the back end to buy you time."
"Ah? O-okay… Wait, you can do that?" I asked, but she didn't answer.
Instead, she started dialing some number on her cell phone. "…Yuigahama? There's been a change of plans. If it's not completed on time, then send in the text that's done and submit, inserting dummy text for the final portion, and then we'll revise it in the proofread. That's all. Can you also tell that to Isshiki? …Yes, thank you." She hung up, then gave me a look that seemed to be confirming, Were you listening?
"…Is that okay?" I asked.
"This is ultimately only an emergency measure in the event we fail to make it in time. I have included the costs of the extra revisions in the budget, just in case, so there's no problem there. If that happens, I'm afraid of not being able to do the final proofread anymore…but there's no way around that, this time," Yukinoshita said with a smile.
She'd even planned out, as a last resort, a little grace period in the schedule, on the off chance something unexpected occurred.
Good grief, after all that ragging on me for being soft, who is it being soft this time?
Well, I can't deny that I am, in fact, soft myself. However, even if I'm easy on myself, the flexibility will sometimes make me snap back in the opposite direction. So her being so forgiving with me made me want to turn down her kindness.
Tossing back the remainder of my coffee, I slammed it down on the table. The clash of the steel can on the steel desk made a clang.
"I'll finish it," I declared, and I faced the computer once more.
"…All right. Then do your best," she said quietly and briefly, but it was enough to reach my ears.
Maybe it was thanks to the break, or maybe it was thanks to the sugar content of the MAX Coffee reaching my brain, but my hands never stopped on the keys.
As I wrote on without looking at the clock, I never even noticed Yuigahama and Isshiki coming into the student council room. The three girls all sat down in a cluster at a diagonal from me, just staring at me without speaking, waiting anxiously for me to finish writing. I-it's hard to write like this…
Nevertheless, I put one sentence after another, then finished it off with a line to tie it together at the end. I pressed the Enter key then, but my hands refused to leave the keyboard right away. I just ran my eyes over that one line countless times, making sure to myself that I had no more words in me, until my heart understood that finally, I had reached completion.
"Now I'm finally done…"
The strength left my body all at once, and I leaned into the back of the chair, letting my arms dangle.
When I heaved a sigh of relief, Yukinoshita came to the seat next to me. "Do you mind if I look?"
"…Sure." I pushed the laptop over to her, and she immediately began checking it.
Yuigahama and Isshiki watched with tense expressions. I, however, had not much tension at all. Why? Because now I'm free! Deadline? What deadline?! Fwa-ha-ha! I'm free! Suppressing the desire to shriek, I waited for her to finish reading.
And then, after some time passed, she looked up from the computer. "…No issues. Isshiki, your turn."
"R-roger!" Next, Isshiki began the final check. But if it had gone through Yukinoshita's approval, it was probably fine.
And with this, my work was done. Maaan, a world without deadlines is the best!
As the feeling of release filled my brain with a drunken haze, Yuigahama and Yukinoshita spoke to me.
"Hikki, thanks."
"…Nice work."
"Yeah, thanks, guys. Sorry it was late." Oh, good gracious, I was experiencing such a feeling of euphoria, I'd accidentally let myself believe I'd accomplished this on my own, but this time, if not for the others observing me, I would probably definitely have bailed before I'd finished.
When you take that into consideration, you might in fact say it was their presence monitoring me that was causing me to experience this current elation.
…So that means, in other words, that editors and deadlines are like a dangerous drug. They should absolutely be outlawed. Say no to deadlines.
"I've checked it. No problems," Isshiki said as she slammed the laptop shut.
Yukinoshita nodded back at her. "We've managed to make it in time, so how about I brew some tea for us in the clubroom?" "Time for an after-party!" cheered Yuigahama.
"Yeah!" Isshiki replied with equal enthusiasm.
Yukinoshita shot Isshiki a cold glare. "You do one last check of the whole thing. And have Miss Hiratsuka skim over it as well. That's the editor-in-chief's job."
"Whaaat?" Isshiki whined. Yukinoshita's eyebrows twitched.
Picking up on that aura, Yuigahama cut between them. "Come on, we'll still be here, so you can just come over once you're done."
"Wahhh… All right, I'll nail this quick, then go right over." And before Isshiki had even finished saying the words, she squeezed her pen. Her eyes wide like saucers, she started checking over everything.
With that sight still in the corner of my eye, I went out into the hallway.
On the way to the clubroom, Yukinoshita let out a short sigh. "…If only she would have dredged up that sort of motivation from the start."
"She can do it if she tries, huh?" observed Yuigahama.
"Some people are like that. They can't do it unless they're under pressure," I said with a wry smile.
With a mean-spirited grin, Yukinoshita looked at me. "My, who could you be talking about?"
"It's just human nature."
The Service Club room heater had been repaired the day before, so in a drastic change from the other day, it was warm and cozy.
It wasn't like the student council room was particularly uncomfortable, but I could relax better in the clubroom. It wasn't really an emotional thing—I feel like it was more instinctual, more territorial. Well, after frequenting an area for nearly a year, a dog or cat would treat it as their territory. I'm no different.
However, I did get the impression that due to the past few days of work editing the free magazine, this familiar space had become a little disorganized.
As Yukinoshita was making the tea, Yuigahama and I decided to clean up.
We gathered together all the papers and disposed of the garbage. After a while, we finished up, and I was sitting my exhausted body down. Yuigahama made this ah sound. Turning around, I saw her holding the camera I'd used for the interviews.
"Hey, let's take some pictures. Of the Service Club!" Yuigahama suggested, and a little wrinkle came together in Yukinoshita's forehead. Seeing her reaction, Yuigahama tilted her head like she was asking permission. Yukinoshita gave a little shake of her head in response, and this time, Yuigahama cocked her head in the other direction.
As the two of them were arguing back and forth with facial expressions, the door to the clubroom rattled open.
"I turned it in, quick and dirty!" Isshiki announced as she came in.
Uhhh, you didn't need to say the "quick and dirty" part…
When Isshiki noticed Yuigahama with the camera in hand, she sounded surprised. "Oh, so you guys had the student council camera? Are you still using it?"
"She says she's going to take a photo of the Service Club," Yukinoshita answered, as if she had nothing to do with this club.
You're a member, too, right…? Wait, you're the captain, right?
"Then I'll take it for you," said Isshiki.
"You be in the picture, too, Iroha-chan!"
"Yes, another time, definitely! …So first, all the members of the Service Club." Though Isshiki was smiling, she refused bluntly and just held out her hand. Maybe this was her way of being nice.
Yuigahama seemed to understand this, as she handed the camera right over. "Oh? Thanks. Then please do! Let's all take one together after!"
"Um, I haven't said anything about taking one yet, though…"
"You just don't know when to give up, Yukinon," Yuigahama said flatly, leaving Yukinoshita at a loss for words.
Well, Yukinoshita's obviously going to fold in the end anyway… She could try to resist, but the end result would be the same. I know the feeling.
But I remembered there was a problem with that camera. "…By the way, there's no more space on the memory card."
"Ohhh, yeah. 'Cause you took sooo many of the tennis club," teased
Isshiki.
"What would you be taking pictures of, to use up that much space…?" Yukinoshita said with exasperation.
Yuigahama thought about it for a moment, then gave a big nod. "The tennis club… Sai-chan, huh…? I can see that."
"That makes sense to you, Yui?!" Isshiki wailed.
So she's finally given up, huh…? Wait, what if she's acknowledged us…?, I was thinking, when Isshiki clapped her hands, then rummaged around in the pocket of her blazer.
"If there's no space, theeen are you okay with this phone?" Isshiki asked as she pulled out my phone. That reminded me that I hadn't gotten it back from her that day.
"Ahhh, well, there's plenty of space, so it's fine," I said.
"Then I'll take it with this!" she suggested with a wink, raising the phone straightaway. Was this also her version of being nice? Frankly, when it comes to her, I have no clue…
"Ummm, then you can just sit down right there, and Yui and Yukinoshita can be, like, standing behind you."
"Okay!"
"U-um… Agh…"
Isshiki briskly gave directions, and Yuigahama took Yukinoshita's arm. It seemed Yukinoshita had finally given up resisting, and the both of them lined up behind me. …Behind me?
"…Huh? Isn't this arrangement kind of weird? Don't you think this kinda makes it look like a family portrait? Shouldn't we spread out a bit more?" And, like, they're close! Too close! I know it's for a photo, but being so close makes me a little anxious, so please spare me.
When I tried to scooch my chair away to get some distance, my shoulders were held down from both sides. Looking up, I saw an icecold smile on Yukinoshita's face.
"You don't know when to give up, Hikigaya."
"Says you…"
"We're good to go, Iroha-chan!" Yuigahama shoved at my shoulder, too, as she called out to Isshiki.
"Right, then here I go! Say cheese!" There was the sound of the shutter, along with the flash going off a bunch of times.
Agh, I'm definitely making a weird face… This is like a family portrait…
I was still angsting over the whole situation when Isshiki moseyed over and returned my phone. "Here… It's a good photo," she said, and she smiled in a bit of a grown-up way. I wasn't about to ask what she meant by that. I'm sure it was nothing more than exactly what she said.
"Send that to me, Hikki. Oh, but wait, Iroha-chan, let's take one together!"
"Okaaay! Then you take it for us, please." Isshiki gave my shoulder a pat, then hurried over to Yuigahama and Yukinoshita.
"I would rather not…," said Yukinoshita.
"Nope. Let's take it all together!" Yuigahama told her.
"So what order do we stand in?" Isshiki asked.
As the three of them quibbled over the composition, I took a quiet look at my phone. There was the photo we'd just taken of the Service Club.
…Yeah, it's not as bad as I thought. I mean, it's not very portrait-y.
And plus, it seemed to me that this photo depicted the way the Service Club was, the way we were, that I hadn't known how to write about then. So it really wasn't as bad as I'd thought.
I still had no idea what to call it, or how to define it. Maybe that was how we could share it. I'm sure of it, in fact. If you were to put it into words, it would probably give form to those conflicting feelings and tie them down.
"Hikki, take the picture!"
"…Right-o," I answered Yuigahama, and I stood up to point my phone camera at them.
Yuigahama, with her usual bright and cheerful smile.
Isshiki, with her first-class pose.
And then Yukinoshita, embraced by each of them from either side, looking a little annoyed, but also with shyly blushing cheeks.
How many more trivial, mundane scenes would we be able to accumulate?
One day, when I'm old enough to feel nostalgia for this image, what sort of pain will accompany that memory?
With these thoughts in mind, I snapped the photo.
4
And thus the night grows late at the Hikigaya household.
The cold wind of midwinter blasted against the windows, loudly rattling the glass in the living room. I pushed myself up from where I was sprawled in the kotatsu to get a look outside. The night had gotten quite late, and all that lay among the pitch-black were the scattered lights of streetlamps.
Our parents had told us they had some issues to deal with at work coming up to the end of the fiscal year, so they would be coming home at late o'clock. It was just me and Komachi in the house. I hadn't had the time to talk face-to-face with her lately, either. There wasn't much time left until the day of her tests. That night, as usual, she was cooped up in her room, doubtlessly studying hard for her entrance exams.
The cold wind was whooshing again. Though the heat was on low in the living room where I was, the cold air radiated from the window.
Oh, I wonder if Komachi feels cold…, I thought, looking over to the wall adjoining her room, but I couldn't hear any sounds from over there. It was late. She'd be asleep around now.
Guess I'll go to bed soon, too, I thought, but unable to resist the comfort of the kotatsu, I collapsed again and rolled over. I must have kicked the cat in the process, as there was some restless stirring, and then the family cat, Kamakura, crawled out. He shot me a grumpy look.
Oh, s-sorry…, I silently apologized.
Kamakura snorted, then started grooming himself with his tongue. Once he was done, his ears stuck straight up, and his face turned to the door.
Then there was a rattle as the door slid open, and Komachi, wearing my hand-me-down tracksuit, lumbered in.
"What's up. You're still awake?" I asked.
"I nodded off at a weird time, and now I'm super-awake…," she said, looking at me with her big round eyes.
Ahhh, I know that feeling. That thing where you come home and collapse on the sofa or in the kotatsu, and then you pass out, and then you can't sleep at night.
Sometimes those naps will be effective, but the time of year is what it is. The period before an exam will inevitably destroy your lifestyle rhythm.
"Even if you're not sleepy, go to bed," I told her. "Or you'll have a bad time tomorrow."
"Yeah. Komachi's hungry, so once I've eaten something." Komachi rotated her shoulders, then headed off into the kitchen.
Once there, she let out a tiny cry of distress. What could it be? I wondered, and when I wiggled out of the kotatsu to take a peek, she was gazing at the fridge vacantly.
…Ahhh, crap. That reminds me—Mom asked me to go shopping just a while ago. She'd called me on the phone so randomly, I'd wondered what the heck was going on. And then I'd been so busy with the production of the free magazine, I'd completely forgotten about shopping. And I'd just thrown together whatever for myself…so I got the feeling we didn't have much left in the way of ingredients. Komachi was moaning as she gazed at the empty fridge.
I'm sorry, Big Bro forgot to go shopping… Oh no, at this rate, Komachi will starve because of me!
"…I've got no choice. I'll make something for you," I said, tapping Komachi's shoulder.
But she turned around and shook her head. "Huh…? It's fine."
"Hey, no need to be polite."
"No, it really is fine. I mean, like, seriously don't, please. Komachi doesn't want to get sick," she rattled off quickly as she waved her hands aggressively.
She didn't even have the decency to play it off as a joke… But when I do cook, she does basically eat it. What a kind girl she is! But she should be careful how she talks!
"I'm kind of hungry, too. I'm cooking anyway. So it won't be out of my way, really." Prodding at her back, I went to stand at the kitchen counter.
Komachi nodded reluctantly. "Well, if you insist…," she said, but she seemed uneasy about what I would do, restlessly following me around as I fished through the cupboards and fridge, almost monitoring me.
I found eggs, milk and chikuwa in the fridge, then dug up some instant ramen and canned corned beef from the shelf. This'd be enough.
When I lined these ingredients up in a proud array on the counter, Komachi popped her face out from behind me. "If I eat something like that at this hour, Komachi'll get fat…"
"It's all right, it's all right! Any Komachi is cute."
"Eugh. You should think before you speak…"
While Komachi was busy grumbling, I filled a pot with water and set it on the stove. The trick here is to make the amount of water about 70 percent of what it normally would be. I started frying up the corned beef and the chikuwa.
Komachi came up to my side, closely examining each of these ingredients. "…Wait, Bro, you've been eating stuff besides this, right?"
"When Mom cooks, I eat normal food. Though I forgot to shop today, so, well, this is more or less what I made."
"There's no vegetables…"
"Dude cooking doesn't come with nutrition. The cow eats vegetables. It's fine."
"The cow probably eats nothing but grains… You're hopeless…" Komachi trailed off, and then she opened up a shelf, stretching as hard as she could to reach to the back. "We do have some seaweed. And then we could rehydrate this wakame… Guess I'll open a can of corn, too."
"Ohhh, that's pretty fancy…" I watched Komachi, impressed, as she briskly arranged some toppings, before I reached out to the carton of milk.
When Komachi noticed that, she grabbed my hand in a claw. Her expression was weirdly serious. "Bro, what are you doing with the milk? I don't know what you're thinking, but it's scaring me, so stop." "You don't? This makes it pseudo-tonkotsu-style," I said, tipping the milk into the pot.
Instantly, Komachi shrieked. "I told you to stoppp!"
"What? Like, this is what makes it good."
Ignoring Komachi's sniffling, I finished off the meal without a hitch. I dropped in the eggs, let it boil for a bit, then split the ramen into bowls. I dumped the fried corned beef and chikuwa in. Then you top it with the seaweed and corn…and voilà!
Komachi was just standing there motionless with her brow knitted, so I pushed her along toward the kotatsu. Proudly setting down the two bowls before us, I handed her chopsticks and a ceramic spoon. "There."
Komachi timidly brought her chopsticks to her mouth. And then the tension in her cheeks softened. "…Oh. It's surprisingly good," she murmured, and after that, blowing on the noodles and soup to cool it, she slurped it up. Relieved by her surprisingly positive reaction, I started eating, too.
Since neither of us could take it too hot, we didn't eat that fast. As we leisurely and slowly enjoyed our meal, Komachi muttered as if she'd suddenly remembered, "Your cooking is just as bad as always… It brings me back." She was looking down at her bowl, a gentle smile on her lips.
Way back, when Komachi was in elementary school, on occasional days like this when our parents were late coming home, the two of us had cooked and eaten together. I'd only been able to do dude cooking like this back then, too, but despite that, Komachi had never complained… Wait, she had complained. A lot… But nevertheless, she'd eaten it. The memory was very nostalgic, and also embarrassing.
"Rude. It's way better than last time. I mean, there's been a lot of progress in instant ramen."
"True. And you haven't made any!" Komachi fired back, then snickered before she continued, "But you know, you should learn to make something a bit more legitimate."
"Well, that is an important skill for a househusband, huh?"
"Well, yeah, but I don't think that's ever gonna happen. I mean in university or when you get a job, you'll eventually leave home, right? Then you have to cook for yourself!"
"Uh, I don't plan to ever leave home…"
Komachi shot me a cold glare. "Get out."
"O-okay…" Do you hate me? I thought, examining her expression.
But she cleared her throat, sneaking her gaze away, and then with a blush on her cheeks, glancing up at me, she said in the most endearing tone, "Well, if you just can't cook no matter what, then Komachi wouldn't mind veeery occasionally putting on the wife hat and going to cook for you… Oh, that was worth a lot of points, in Komachi terms!"
"The assumption that you're kicking me out of the house scores low, though…"
Our conversation about meaningless things continued until our ramen dinner was finished.
"Thanks for the meal," Komachi said with a polite bow of her head, before letting out a sigh of satisfaction and plopping straight down on her side.
"Yeah, you're welcome. All right, then get back to your room and go to bed already," I said to her, since it seemed like she'd fall asleep right there in the kotatsu.
Komachi responded with vague groan but then gasped as if something had just occurred to her, jerking up into a sitting position. "I wanna eat something sweet!"
"There isn't anything." I couldn't offer her anything besides my sweet face, my sweet words, and my sweetly naive ideas.
Of course that wasn't enough for her, and Komachi hopped to her feet. "Then how about we go to the convenience store?"
"A girl shouldn't be going out alone at this hour."
"It's fine if I'm not alone, right?" She slid her hand toward mine.
…Well, I guess I'll be a proper big brother for once.
The stars were beautiful that night. The wind was blowing hard, and the air was clear. The moon, stars, streetlamps, and the lines of lights from houses illuminated the nighttime streets.
Nobody was out and about but us, and Komachi's voice rang out into the quiet. "Yeeeks, it's freezing! Brr! It's so coooold!"
"Yeah, it really is cold…"
As the both of us were shivering at the sudden drop in temperature, Komachi smacked into my back. Then her hand slid around to take my arm. "…Yeah. It's warm like this, and it's also worth a lot of Komachi points," she declared, looking up at my face.
It was hard to walk and embarrassing like this, and I was getting sick of her attempts at point scoring, so I reached out to her head to peel her off.
But then Komachi murmured, "There's not much time until exams…and once that's over, it's graduation… Then a new school, huh?"
Her expression contained none of her earlier glee. She was just gazing with melancholy at the streetlights that dotted the dark night. Seeing the anxiety in her eyes, I stopped my efforts to peel her off.
"Komachi."
She looked up. "Hmm? What, Bro?"
I dropped my hand on her head, then scrubbed it around. "I'll be waiting at high school."
"…Uh-huh." Maybe it was just the weight of my hand, but Komachi's face turned down. But there was strength in her soft voice.
The city at night was so quiet it was scary. We couldn't be sure of the ground at our feet, and the wind was cuttingly cold. I couldn't know when this long winter night would turn to dawn, but the time was clearly moving onward. Though the sky above was dark, the spring constellations would come to twinkle there again.
The seasons change, as do the connections between people in endless flux. Would someone new come to that clubroom, too? Maybe so, maybe not. And then in less than a year, I would leave it.
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? Eventually, I will also have my final look at this night sky, too.
So then, for the moment, with the warmth at my side… …I will look up at the starry sky and walk.