Well, Yukinoshita is scared of dogs, so even if she weren’t at her parents’ house, I doubt she would’ve agreed to do it… No, maybe she actually would’ve been like, “Leave it to me!” and then oh-so-timidly offered him food.

As I entertained myself with these pleasant mental images, Komachi noticed Yuigahama’s sudden silence and urged the other girl to continue. “Has something happened with Yukino?” she asked.

Yuigahama hesitated before uncertainly looking my way. “Y-yeah… Hikki, have you been in touch with her?”

“No, I don’t even know her number.” I don’t have a messenger pigeon, so unless I put a letter in a bottle and set it adrift on the waves, I would have no way of getting a hold of her. I silently asked Komachi, What about you? But she shook her head.

“I e-mail and call her a lot, though,” said Yuigahama.

“Did something happen?” I asked.

“When I call her, I get her voice mail, and then she’ll send me an e-mail after. She takes a long time to reply…and when she does, it’s like, it just seems halfhearted? When I invite her to hang out, she always has plans…”

“Uh-huh…” Look, she’s avoiding you. I mean, that’s basically just how the kids in my class reacted back in middle school when I tried to keep in touch. Or so I wanted to say, but I decided against it. Yuigahama had obviously already realized that Yukinoshita was trying to push her away. She’s so good at reading people and blending in, there’s no way she wouldn’t figure out the most basic tells.

“I wonder if I did something…?” She laughed weakly.

“Don’t stress over it too much. She might just have a lot on her plate, dealing with her family. When school starts again, I’m sure things will just work themselves out.” It was an uncharacteristically encouraging thing for me to say. I’m good at spouting offhand, unsubstantiated remarks. It’s like that old saying, “He’s full of eight hundred lies.” Except with me, it’s eighty thousand. ’Cause I’m Hachiman. They should make that a thing.

Well, that wasn’t necessarily a total lie. Things did look rough with Yukinoshita’s family. There was that little episode around two weeks prior, at the beginning of August. We had all been saying our farewells after the camping trip, when Haruno Yukinoshita, her older sister, came to take her back home. None of us had seen the younger sister since then. And I was still having flashbacks about that black limo that drove off with them.

There had been a car accident one year ago involving me and Yuigahama…and the one responsible was in a black limo. I didn’t know if that vehicle and the one we’d seen two weeks ago were one and the same. All that connected the two cars was my hazy memory. I had no proof of anything. There were no testimonies, no statements, no explanations, nothing.

A few humorless moments passed. Even after my half-assed attempt at encouragement, Yuigahama’s worries hadn’t subsided. “I—I guess…”

“Not that I have any idea,” I said.

“Why do you have to be like that? You’re so apathetic.” Yuigahama gave me an exasperated smile.

I really don’t know, though. I don’t know Yukino Yukinoshita. Of course, I know about her on a superficial level. I know her name, her face, that she has good grades, that she keeps people at a distance, that she likes cats and Grue-bear, that she has a sharp tongue, and that she can be a little absentminded. But that’s how it is. You can’t act like you know someone based off that alone. Just as no one understands me, neither do I understand them. You can’t forget that.

And what does it take to be able to say you “know” someone, anyway?

As I descended into a maze of contemplation, I heard some shrill little yips. When I turned to investigate the initial cry, a low, rumbling noise soon followed. Sablé and Kamakura were running in circles around Komachi, engaged in a contest of intimidation. Kamakura had his Get-Away-from-Me Barrier up, but Sablé destroyed it with a Love-Love-Kamakura Beam and gave chase. Komachi, smiling and amused as she watched them, did not make any particular attempt to stop them.

So I’m gonna have to deal with this for a while now, huh…?

Yuigahama must have picked up on my chagrin. “S-sorry. I thought about taking him to a pet hotel, but it’s holiday season, so they’re all filled up,” she said apologetically with a laugh.

“And that’s where I come in, Bro.” Thump! Komachi gave a smug chuckle and arrogantly whacked a fist against her small chest with gusto. Why are you acting so weirdly dependable? Are you the ship captain or what?

Sigh. Well, it sounded like she e-mailed Yuigahama a lot, so it probably just came up during their conversation.

“If we don’t do this now, we won’t have any opportunities all summer. Chance,” Komachi muttered quietly. I suspect her eyes may have sparkled there, but I was more distracted by her use of Zaimokuza’s verbal tic, chance. Has the virus spread from me to others? I don’t want it to become a thing… Total sacrifice.

“Well, if you don’t mind, then whatever,” I said. This was my shrewd little sister here. She’d probably already dealt with our mother. If she’d already defeated Mom, then the only remaining obstacle was our dad, and he was putty in her hands. In the Hikigaya household, the eldest son has no part in the decision-making process. There is a perfect hierarchy in place, and it goes Mom, Komachi, the old man, and finally, me. Oh, and of course, His Highness the Cat is up at the very top. To him, humans are but pawns.

“Anyway, we can take care of him or whatever, but what should we feed him?” I asked. “Vita-One? Frontline? Whoa, not Pedigree, right? We’re not that fancy, you know.”

“Why do you know so much about dog food?” Yuigahama asked. “Wait… Frontline is flea treatment! I dunno about this…” She seemed to be rethinking her decision, if her worried expression was any indication.

Komachi smiled, attempting to placate her. “It’s okay! He used to have a dog.”

“Y-you did?” asked Yuigahama.

“Sort of,” I replied. It was a long time ago, though. My memories were vague. Actually, I think it was mostly my parents and Komachi who cared for it.

A hint of warmth crept into Yuigahama’s smile. “Wow. I’m kinda surprised.”

“My brother likes cats and dogs. It’s just people he hates…”

Am I a certain former spirit detective now…?

Well, she’s not wrong. I don’t hate cats or dogs. I suppose they would even fall under the category of things I like. Especially cats.

Friends, I like cats. No, friends, I love cats! I love American shorthairs. I love tortoiseshells. I love sphynxes. I love Ragdolls and American curls; I love Scottish folds and Persians; I love Singapuras and Russian blues. Cats in alleys, in little cat huts, on cat towers, on top of fridges, on beds, on veranda railings, in cardboard boxes, in paper bags, on people’s backs, on futons—I love every single cat that lives upon this earth.

You know, abuse of animals is unforgivable to me. People who don’t cherish living beings can go and die. I hate anyone who doesn’t value life!

As I composed impassioned speeches in my head, Yuigahama abruptly let a smile slip. “Well, that’s a relief. It looks like Sablé likes you, too.”

“Don’t expect too much. I’m better at being taken care of than doing the caring. You could even call me a professional dependent,” I replied.

I’ve been a dependent for seventeen years now. I can’t think of any other way to live. Once you’ve spent your formative years relying on others, there’s no going back. I ruffled Sablé’s fur as he showed off his tummy and lolled around on his back beside me. But Komachi snatched him away.

“Well, you leave Sabby to me! It won’t be long before he can’t live without me!” Komachi was fully intent on seducing this dog away.

“I don’t really want that, but… Okay, well, I’m leaving him to you.” Despite her obvious apprehension, Yuigahama gave a quick bow, and her eyes darted to the inside of her wrist to check the time. “Oh, I have to get going. My parents are waiting.”

“All righty, then,” said Komachi. “I’ll see you off.”

Watching them out of the corner of my eye as they went down the stairs, I fished around in the carrier Yuigahama had left us. There was dog food inside, plus everything else we’d need to take care of him.

By the way, he eats Science Diet. His lifestyle is healthier than mine…

As for the canine in question, he was prowling and snuffling around the room. Oh, guess he smells the cat. As for Kamakura, he had apparently escaped the dog and was now on top of the refrigerator, gazing down on me and Sablé with languid eyes. I doubt he hated Sablé or even had much interest in him at all. He just kept his distance, kept alert, because he didn’t know to approach the other animal. That faintly reserved gaze was familiar to me.

It had been Yuigahama’s birthday, so I remembered it well.

It was a rare clear day during the rainy season. Silhouetted by a sunset red as guilt, she had smiled sadly. She drew a definite line then, I know.

It meant that we, the victims, were not like her.

Only now was I finally beginning to understand what that boundary was.

“So you’re in this class, too,” she said in a sleepy-sounding voice as she threw me a chilly glance. Below one of her ill-humored eyes was a mole like a teardrop.

I feel like she looks familiar. Who is she again?

“I should thank you, though. I’m grateful,” she continued.

I had no idea why she was thanking me, but nothing indicated she had the wrong person. It’s very rare for someone to speak to a loner. Usually, it doesn’t happen except in the most extreme of circumstances.

“Thanks to you, I got that…scholarship?” She fumbled over the English word. “One of those. Things are going well with Taishi, too.”

The name Taishi sounded unpleasantly familiar. I consulted my list of people I hate and landed on the name Taishi Kawasaki. Oh-ho, that’s the little cockroach that tried to sidle up to Komachi. What was his relationship to this person?

And then, thanks to her bluish-black hair, I suddenly recognized her. Blood Type Blue! Kawa… Kawakoshi? Kawajima? Kawaharagi…? Well, whatever. It’s Kawa-something! Her hair was so blue, I thought she was a Gagaga book.

“Naw, you got that scholarship on your own,” I replied. As we conversed, I remembered her name: Saki Kawasaki.

“Yeah, but Taishi keeps going on about you, so… Well, whatever, I’ve said it.” That was all she said, as if motivated by a sense of obligation, and then immediately marched away. She was curt, but that was nothing new. Kawasaki doesn’t let people get near, always chooses solitude, and exudes the air of a delinquent. And she had initiated the conversation with me.

I felt like she’d softened up quite a bit. Curious about her transformation, my eyes automatically followed her. She took a seat about three rows behind me and pulled out her phone. From the way her fingers were moving, she was probably writing an e-mail. And then she happened to smile.

Huh, so she can smile. She always looks so bored, and her presence is aggressively overbearing. You’d never see her smile like that at school. Actually, I don’t recall seeing her at school too much in the first place. Among fellow loners, nonintervention is standard.

While I was watching her, thinking, Huh, what a rare sight to see, our eyes met. Blushing bright red, Kawasaki gave me an intense glare. Eek! She’s so scary! I rolled my head like, Man, my shoulders are so stiff! and tried my best to escape. Nope, she hadn’t softened up at all. You went to all that trouble to come to prep school, Kawasaki, so try to sand down those sharp corners. Make your square head round.

The English lecture ended, and it was our very brief break period. I headed downstairs and bought a MAX Coffee from the vending machine. Slowly sipping it, I returned to the classroom. Inside, the other kids were spending the time as they pleased—fiddling with their phones, reading, or having staring contests with the modern Japanese textbook for the next class. It was unlike what you’d normally see at school. Overall, a lot of people were by themselves; loners accounted for the majority.

It was a peculiar situation compared with the cram school I had attended the last time I had entrance exams. That had ultimately just been an extension of regular school. Even at these extra classes, the people who never fit in were still ignored in force. During lectures, that same social dynamic was in place. It was exasperating. That class had made me desperate to move on to the upper level. With each move up, the classroom got quieter, and the level of the lectures and the proficiency of the students increased.

Thinking back on it, maybe those lower-level students had just been looking for justifications to be satisfied with the basic classes, so they had flocked together. They turned their friendships into a reason to give up trying, their relationships into an excuse for complacency. It’s like when a middle school couple says they want to go on to the same high school, and the smarter one goes to a less competitive school that’s on their SO’s level. At the time, when I had overheard people suggesting it, I had felt a chill. If you really want what’s best for your girlfriend or boyfriend, you shouldn’t hold them back or follow their every whim. That’s just taking the easy route so they can continue to indulge in their idle and mundane lives.

Eventually, you’ll hear through the grapevine that they did go to the same high school and broke up in less than two months. That’s absurd. It’s such a riot, you’re bound to end up with smashed windows. And then they’ll try to validate it later by going on about how they were sooo young back then, you know?

Maybe it’s because I’ve watched it happen from an outsider’s perspective, but I could never believe in any relationship that’s so utterly superficial. It’s a convenient excuse, and I don’t trust any form of kindness so filled with deceit and so delighted in its own self-sacrifice.

That’s why I liked this prep school system. The school maintained an appropriate policy of nonintervention with the students, and the students were all indifferent to one another. They completely did away with any process unnecessary for exam prep. It was fair to say that their goal was maximum efficiency.

At the cram school I went to in middle school, the lecturer and the students were all trying to be friends or something. It sucked… All the other students were on a first-name basis, and I was the only one they all called by last name…

I mean, if students and teachers want to be all buddy-buddy at prep school, it’s doable. They’ve got this tutor system—basically, university students are always working part-time. Apparently, they don’t just help you with your studies, they’ll also talk to you about your career path. If you want to take part in a poignant student-teacher drama during your entrance exams, you’re perfectly free to do so.

Fundamentally, the atmosphere around here is sound and serene. Some might find it cold. For me, it’s comfortable. Still, some of my classmates were of Hayama’s breed. The way they blathered on to each other at high volume until the class started, it was like someone had urged them to “bring all your friends!”

You can find normie(LOL)-ish people everywhere you go. If you made a distribution map of their habitat, the sprawl would most certainly rival that of potato bugs or wharf roaches. I can’t understand why anyone would want to be so mundane.

Good grief, the swarm is everywhere… And they’re more active in summer. That’s another way they’re like insects. I hate bugs, so this season is always a struggle.

When the lecture was over, I was overcome with the characteristic lethargy that testifies to ninety minutes of continuous concentration. The fatigue of studying is unlike the comfortable exhaustion of playing sports. It feels like your head is gradually fogging over. The glucose in my brain was all used up. If I hadn’t had that MAX Coffee, things might have taken a turn for the worse. TONE Coca-Cola Bottling should team up with somebody to make a product for exam takers. They’d probably make good money.

Having finished the lectures, I immediately began packing up to go home. This is when the loner is most cheerful.

Fortunately, the Tsudanuma area around the cram school was a fairly developed amusement district, so there were a number of bookstores and a lot of arcades. It was a neighborhood that could keep a high school boy entertained.

As I was considering whether I should make any stops on my way home, a rap, rap sounded on the edge of my desk. When I looked toward the cause, I found a sullen Saki Kawasaki. What? If you have business with me, say something. Are your parents woodpeckers?

“Do you need something?” I asked. She had been sending Ask me! vibes, so I obediently went along with it.

Kawasaki briefly hesitated, sighing.

Come on, if you don’t want to talk to me, then don’t. What do you want?

“Hey, do you have some time now?” she asked.

“Oh, I have a thing, so.” I unconsciously activated my standard refusal line. I automatically react to these things; it’s my instinct to refuse all invitations. It’s a commonsense behavior in modern society, just like screening any call from an unknown number. When I use that line, in most cases, people will back down easily. Oh, really? Okay…right. Although the lack of resistance really gives the impression that they were only asking to be polite. In fact, sometimes they even imply that they’re relieved you said no. Seriously, you guys, take more care with that. In my opinion, sometimes you have to be kind by withholding the invitation.

But I don’t think Saki Kawasaki was speaking to me out of politeness. In fact, I got the impression that she didn’t engage with that kind of etiquette. Her type doesn’t back down, not even before Yukinoshita or Miss Hiratsuka. She pretty much says what she wants.

Kawasaki’s languid eyes narrowed sharply. “What ‘thing’?”

“Well, uh, like, a thing… Just some, like, stuff with my sister.” In desperation, I appealed to Komachi.

Kawasaki gave me a small nod. “I see. That works out perfectly, then. Come with me for a bit.”

“Huh?”

With great exasperation, Kawasaki answered my monosyllabic request for more information. “I’m not the one who wants to talk to you. Taishi says he wants to ask you something. He says she’s with him in Tsudanuma.”

Oh, I see. So that e-mail she was writing was to her brother. So did that little grin midtext mean she has a brother complex or something? Hey, brah, how ya doin’? Yeah, I could see her having a complex about her bra. My flat-chested sister says it’s hard to find cute ones in the larger sizes.

“Sorry, but there’s no reason for me to spend my time on your little brother.”

“I’m saying your sister is with him, though.”

“Hey, so where are we going, then? Is it close by? Five minutes’ walk? Can we run?” Tell me these things first, geez.

“Seriously…?” She fired an exasperated glare my way.

But I didn’t pay her any mind as I leaped to my feet and zoomed out of the classroom.

Kawasaki followed after me. “They’re at the Saize right past the exit. Do you know where it is?” she asked.

“Please. I know where every Saize along the Sobu Line is located.” I even know the former site of the first branch. Motoyawata is the birthplace of Saize. The shop is no longer there, but the sign is. By the way, I’m so informed about the area, I can even add that the head office and distribution center for Tora no Ana are also around Motoyawata.

When we left the building, a suffocating heat was hovering over the road. There was no wind, and it was like the humidity was bending the sunlight as it blazed down on us. It was in between lectures, and as we merged with the ebb and flow of people around the station, the population density of the neighborhood took a sudden upturn. We didn’t talk much as we weaved ahead through the periodic gaps between the human waves. I’m almost always on my own when I’m out, so I’m good at slipping into the vacuums of the crowd as I walk. From here on out, the game will belong to Stealth Hikki, yo!

Komachi and the cockroach were apparently at a nearby Saize. Perfect. They have knives and forks there, so no lack of murder weapons. I could also pie-throw a piping-hot Milan-style cheesy pilaf right in his face. Then I’d just have to put up some on-screen text to reassure everyone that *the staff ate it all afterward! All would be forgiven. And then I’d daub his wounds with spicy chicken sauce.

I could actually feel my soul gem darkening. Whoops, that’s not good. At this rate, I’ll turn into a witch. Let’s think about something nice… Is Magical Girl Saika Totsuka out yet?

Fighting down my impatience, I waited for the traffic light to turn. Behind me, Kawasaki commented, “Oh yeah. A little while ago, Yukinoshita was taking a summer class, too.”

“…Huh. Really?” The name delayed my reaction a little. I’m pretty sure Yukinoshita is aiming to go to a public sciences school. So Kawasaki’s taking those courses, too? Well, it’s natural to have a broad range of school choices at this point. I’m just narrowing my goal to a private arts school because I’m so dismal at math. By the way, I’m also narrowing my goal for the future to being a househusband.

“She really is hard to approach,” Kawasaki commented.

Are you in a position to be saying that? You’re constantly emitting a terrifying aura. Never mind the girls—half the boys are scared of you, too, you know?

“What’s with that look?” Her listless eyes narrowed and flicked toward me.

“Nothing.” Flustered, I turned away.

I could imagine what Yukinoshita and Kawasaki would be like together in the same classroom. Though both of them would attract a lot of attention, I bet neither let anyone get close. Their behavior is similar, but I think their motivations are completely different.

Behind Kawasaki’s aggression is a failure to communicate. It’s the quintessential tendency of the taciturn. I suspect she’s just bad at talking. Seeing her affection for her little brother, you somehow know.

Yukinoshita, on the other hand, has never had any desire to go on the attack at all—her existence itself is an onslaught. Individuals who excel can be overwhelming, awakening jealousy and a sense of inferiority in others. That’s what has cut her off from those around her and earned her their ill will. And then to complicate matters, she never fails to push back against the malice. She crushes it. That’s Yukinoshita. If Kawasaki’s behavior is a threat for the sake of self-defense, then Yukinoshita’s behavior is always absolute retribution.

The light changed to green. When I took a step out, Kawasaki ventured, “Hey…could you thank her for me? In the end, I never did.”

“Do it yourself.”

“I could, I guess. But, well, I dunno… It’d be a little awkward.” Her timidity caught my attention, so I looked at her. Her eyes were quietly downcast, and she was walking with her head lowered. “Some people you’re just not going to get along with, even if you know they didn’t do anything wrong,” she said.

“Yeah.” That’s true. That’s why noninterference is the best form of compromise. You can choose to stay out of it for the sake of getting by. Sticking together like glue and smiling and chatting and fooling around and hanging out are not the only possible ways to engage with people. I believe that keeping an appropriate distance in order to avoid hating one another is also laudable.

That’s the impression Yukino Yukinoshita left on Saki Kawasaki. Kawasaki was forced to acknowledge her but could not approach. Kawasaki knew that nothing good would come of it if either of them attempted to reach out. She could be certain the pain they would inflict on each other would serve no purpose, and that’s why she tried to avoid contact. It’s not running away or sidestepping the issue: It’s an indication of respect.

“Besides, we probably won’t run into each other for a while,” she said. “She’s not in this course, so the next time I’ll see her is at school, and we’re not in the same class. But you’ll see her again soon for your club activities, right?”

“No, I don’t think I’ll see her until school starts again, either.” At the very least, we wouldn’t be seeing each other on purpose. If you thought about it, that was all there was to our relationship. We wouldn’t make contact unless we had to. I didn’t even know her number.

We crossed to the other side of the crosswalk and went down a flight of stairs to the basement of the building. Our footsteps echoed quietly.

“Plus, even if we did run into each other, we wouldn’t necessarily talk,” I said.

“That’s true. I don’t normally talk to her, either.”

“Yup.” I mean, if someone starts a conversation with me, I’ll give them a proper response. In fact, I’m extremely polite when I engage with people. So polite I come off as creepy. If I know someone is a loner, like Kawasaki, then I can relax and be more casual because I recognize we’re of the same breed, I guess.

As we conversed, we reached the basement floor. When we passed through the automatic doors, I saw Komachi nearby in a seat close to the drink bar. As soon as she saw me, she waved her hand. “’Sup, Bro!”

“’Sup,” I replied casually, plopping down beside her.

Across from her was a middle schooler with a name reminiscent of Sano Yakuyoke Daishi. When his eyes met with mine, he bobbed his head in a bow. “Bro! Sorry for making you come all this way.”

“Don’t call me Bro. I’ll kill you.”

“Hey. Are you trying to start a fight with my little brother?” Waves of rage were rolling off quiet Kawasaki in her seat opposite mine.

She’s really glaring at me! These brother-complex types are seriously creepy. People who get overly attached to their family members freak me out. Seriously, dude.

Taishi was busy restraining Kawasaki as she attempted to intimidate me with a growl, so I dinged the bell and quickly took care of ordering.

Two more people for the drink bar. I was too scared of Kawasaki to smash a Milan-style cheesy pilaf in her face, so I gave up on that.

I picked up my cup of joe, as they say in the business, had a sip, and then got down to brass tacks. “So what do you want?” I asked.

“Oh yeah,” Taishi replied. “I want you to tell me about Soubu High.”

“Come on. Just ask your sister. She’s right there,” I said. Saki Kawasaki was in my year at the same school as me. I’d probably forget if I didn’t remind myself.

“I really want another guy’s opinion!” For some reason, Taishi was clenching his fists tight. Why is he so worked up…? He can be as passionate as he likes, but he’s not going to get much out of me.

“It’s not really anything special,” I said. “I think any school would be about the same. Some of the special events might be different, depending on things like how serious they get with the cultural festival and how good the sports teams are.” I’ve never seen any other high schools, so I don’t know exactly, but that’s my impression. If we’re just talking about the regular curriculum in the full-day school system, you could probably fit most schools into the same stereotypical category. Unique programs aside, there’s not such a huge difference between them. Personally, my naive mental image of high school and the reality of what it actually ended up being were virtually equivalent. My sole miscalculation was joining the Service Club under duress.

“Huh?” Komachi tilted her head curiously. “But when the school test-score averages are different, doesn’t that change the school spirit?”

Well,” I replied, “I think as the averages go up, you tend to find fewer delinquent types. Still, some people want to act like delinquents.” I casually slid my eyes over to the spot diagonal from me.

Noticing my gaze, Kawasaki glared at me. “Why’re you looking at me?” she asked. “I’m not trying to be a delinquent.”

So my assumption had been off. Something had convinced me she was about to say, Stop looking at my face. Look at my body. Come on. So my eyes just…

I cleared my throat in an attempt to cover up my intimidation at Kawasaki’s sharp eyes and started over. “So basically, all that’s different compared with middle school is the ratio of types that make up the student body. And everyone starts acting all high school-ish. That gets annoying.”

“Huh? ‘Ish’?” Taishi cocked his head as if he couldn’t quite parse what I meant.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting,” I said, “but ultimately, most people in high school have this obsession with the ‘high schooler’ you often seen in fiction, so they put on an act in an attempt to become that. And it just leaves you cold.”

I bet that somewhere out there is an unwritten rule. All high school students must be thus!

The Law of the High School Student:

Rule the first: Those who would be in high school are obligated to have a girlfriend or boyfriend.

Rule the second: Those who would be in high school must be surrounded by crowds of friends and be obnoxiously rowdy.

Rule the third: Those who would be in high school must act just like the students on TV and in movies.

Any who disobey the above laws are ordered to commit seppuku.

Something like that.

You could say it’s similar to how the Shinsengumi—especially that samurai code fundamentalist Toshizou Hijikata—yearned to be like samurai precisely because they were not in fact samurai.

And if you want to reconcile that ideal with reality, eventually, you have no choice but to be unreasonable. For example, a guy who wants girls to like him will check up on how they’re doing and annoy them with e-mails, and when he finds a good opportunity, he’ll buy them meals and be loud and make a scene in order to draw attention to himself. Even though, in truth, he might be more of a quiet guy. Or maybe a girl wants to be closer to her friends and wears clothes that are in style (LOL), drags herself to group dates so they have the right number of girls, and acts all excited when she listens to the latest J-pop, even though her tastes might be more modest and reserved. Despite it all, these people put in all this effort because they don’t want to be cut off from what’s “normal.” Because they don’t want to remove themselves from the value system that “everyone” shares.

Taishi moaned. “That doesn’t sound very nice…” As he listened to me, his expression turned dark and gloomy.

“Well, this is just from the perspective of a twisted guy who overthinks everything,” I said. “If you want to make friends, you have to be prepared to sacrifice something.” Living a life different from others is difficult in its own way, but going with the flow is really hard. Life is hard.

“Whoops! Everyone’s glasses are empty, huh?” Komachi said, as if attempting to lighten up the somewhat heavy mood. Humming cheerfully, she gathered up all the cups and glasses, apparently intending to get refills for everyone.

Kawasaki noticed that and immediately stood up. “I’ll come with you. That’s a lot for one person to carry.” Komachi gratefully accepted the offer, and the pair headed off to the drink bar together. For some reason or another, I watched them go.

Then Taishi lifted his head suddenly as if he had just remembered something. He glanced over at the girls’ backs where they stood away from us and then leaned toward me, clearing his throat. “Ahem… It’s sorta, I dunno, maybe it’s weird to ask you about this, but…,” Taishi whispered as a preface. “Be honest—what are the girls like there? Are they cute? Like, that Yukinoshita girl is gorgeous, isn’t she?”

Oh-ho, so this was the real issue at hand, huh? So he was so worked up at first because he wanted to talk about this. I considered the question for a bit. Yeah, well, if I had to say, I do feel like there are a lot of cute girls at Soubu High.

Or more to the point, the only girls at school whose looks leave an impression on me are the cute ones and the ones you remember like a punch to the face. I don’t really remember the normal ones. “There are a lot of cute girls,” I said. “There’s one class called the International Curriculum, and ninety percent of them are girls. So inevitably, there’s more girls than guys, meaning there’s a higher than normal ratio of pretty girls.”

“Whoa! What a dreamy situation!”

Huh? Sounds like the Bandai corporate slogan. “Dreams and Creation” or something like that, right? Anyway, there was something I had to tell him. “But you know, Taishi…” I expressed it as simply and clearly as I could. “Hasn’t your mother told you? You might like a cute girl, but she’s not going to like you back.”

“I—I understand so much now!” Taishi’s high spirits suddenly evaporated, and his eyes opened wide as if he had just been granted divine revelation via lightning strike.

“It’s vital to maintain a resigned state of mind,” I told him. “If pressing on doesn’t work, throw in the towel. Your rule of thumb needs to be ‘When the going gets tough, give up.’” These days, I also like to say Know others and know thyself, and thou shalt retreat from one hundred battles. “I mean, do you actually think it’s possible to get close to a girl like Yukinoshita?”

“You’re right… Not for me, at least! She’s pretty scary!”

What an open and honest opinion. I’d like to present him with a variety pack of axes.

Yukinoshita is far more unattainable than a flower on a high peak. She’s a flower blooming on the Guiana Highlands. Someone who doesn’t know much about her might find her rather frightening, seriously overbearing, and highly arrogant. I felt the same way at first…well, um, if you count our encounter in the clubroom as our first meeting, anyway.

Taishi groaned. “Soubu High must be terrifyin’ for y’all…”

For some reason, I found Taishi’s shivering and faux-Kansai accent rather grating, so I decided to go ahead and keep up the attack. “Your environment might change, but you won’t. The whole idea that things will change once you’re in high school is an illusion. Stop dreaming.” First, I’ll destroy that screwed-up illusion of yours! Ha-ha, well, I’d briefly had expectations of that nature, too. But such a high school experience is just a faraway ideal. Offering lessons in reality is its own form of kindness.

“Hey, don’t bully him so much,” Komachi said as she returned, setting down the drinks and poking me in the head.

Noooo, this isn’t bullying; I was just teeeeasing him a little, I muttered in my head, the irritating excuse of a little kid. That’s exactly what they say, you know.

Kawasaki sat down beside her brother, put her cup to her lips, and said, “Taishi, don’t take him too seriously. And more importantly…what you need to be thinking about is getting in.”

Taishi flinched once in his chair and groaned.

“Are you expecting to have trouble?” I asked.

Taishi seemed hard-pressed for a reply, so Kawasaki replied instead. “To be honest, right now it’s looking a little rough. That’s why I’m always telling him to study, but…”

Hanging his head, Taishi slumped and groaned some more.

Komachi came in to encourage him and smooth things over. “It’s okay, Taishi! Even if you end up at a different school from me and not Soubu High, I’ll still be your friend! I’ll be your friend, no matter what!”

“W-we’ll be friends no matter what…? O-oh…”

“Yeah, totally friends! Primate, hominid, friend! ” She struck the finishing blow.

As her brother, I was okay with that, but as a fellow guy, I almost sympathized with him. His crushed hopes were worthy of some pity. “Well, um, I guess…you need a goal or something?” I suggested. “If you have a clear reason you want to go to that school, you can try harder, right?” I said.

Taishi lifted his head. “A goal?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I can’t exactly brag about this, but when I was in middle school, I wanted to go to a school that wouldn’t have a single person from my middle school, so I worked my butt off. There’s only, like, one person every year that goes from my old middle school to Soubu High.”

“You’re right—you can’t brag about that…” Kawasaki’s smile was bitter. I suppose it was the coffee.

“Just so you know,” Komachi butted in, “I’m working hard to get in because it’s your school, Bro!” The girl took the opportunity to show off.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know.” I treated her boasting with casual disdain.

Taishi turned back to Kawasaki with a serious expression. “Did you have a reason, too?” he asked.

Kawasaki set down the cup in her hand with a clink. “I… Never mind about me.” She had seemed to be thinking about it, but then she swiftly looked away.

I had a vague idea of what her motivation was, though. If she could communicate that to Taishi, maybe it could motivate him, too. “…Well, our school’s a pretty good choice if you’re aiming for a public university with low tuition fees,” I said.

“You keep your mouth shut!” Panicking, Kawasaki glared at me. But her embarrassed blush didn’t have much punch to it.

Fool. A glare from a girl with a brother complex is nothing to fear.

That appeared to be enough for Taishi. He gave a small nod. “Oh…”

I’m sure there are lots of different motivations out there—and not just for Saki Kawasaki. Some people just pick whatever. Some are determined to get one particular school. Not everyone deals with the question in a proactive and focused way. But I think that as long as you make the choice yourself, even if it’s based on pessimism or a cowardly process of elimination, it’s enough.

“I’ve made up my mind,” said Taishi. “I’m going to Soubu High School!” He looked like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Well, good luck,” I said, completely sincere. …Wait, Komachi wants to attend my school, doesn’t she? “…If you make it, I’ll give you a big hug. Like a sumo wrestler.”

“I think he’s gonna kill me!” Taishi said, sounding a little scared. His sister moved in to protect him, giving me a rather harsh look.

In an attempt to evade her wrath, I checked the receipt. “Are we done here?” I asked. “Me and Komachi have to get home.” According to the clock, it was almost dinnertime. I pulled a thousand-yen bill from my wallet, left it on the table, and stood up.

“Yep!” Taishi rose to his feet and handed me a bill. “Thank you so much, Bro!”

“No, no.” I waved his reply away. “The possibility that you’d ever be able to call me ‘Bro’ completely vanished just a moment ago.”

“Wait, that’s the part you’re saying no to?!” Taishi was shocked.

Komachi watched our exchange out of the corner of her eye, putting her pointer finger on her chin and tilting her head. “Hmm? But if you and Saki get married, Bro, he can call you that, right?”

“D-don’t be stupid! Th-that would n-never happen!” I heard someone stuttering behind me as we left the restaurant.

After checking to make sure Kawasaki wouldn’t hear, I smirked and muttered, “No kidding. I’d only ever marry a woman willing to support me.”

“There it is!” cried Komachi. “Your nasty self-defense mechanisms.”

“Hey, cut it out. Don’t call it a self-defense mechanism.” I mean, it’s not a mechanism. Calling it someone willing to support me is an absolute defensive front.

All quiet on the defensive front.

Man, this movie really is scary. I’m beyond just stepping off the right path; at this rate, I’m about to clear the entire Totsuka route. Terrifying. If he gets scared enough to wrap his arms around me, I’ll be cringing into my seat in terror. Actually, I’d probably need to lean forward.

My heart groaned under the strain, and my blood raged like a torrent of muddy water. They’ve got to prepare the ATM just in case it gives out. Or wait, or was that thing called an ETC? EVA? Whatever. It looks like it’s going to be over soon. Summoning all my willpower not to think about Totsuka’s presence, I decided to casually glance around the theater. What I really wanted to do was calm myself down by listing prime numbers, but sadly, as a humanities type, I couldn’t figure out if zero counted or not and immediately gave up.

The air-conditioned theater was chilly. Combined with the darkness, it was the optimum environment for watching a horror movie.

By the time the end credits rolled, I still had no idea what happened in the film. Totsuka patiently waited until all the lines of text finished scrolling, and then we stood almost simultaneously. Basking in the afterglow, I walked out of the theater with a leisurely stride.

“That was so much fun!” exclaimed Totsuka. “But I was screaming the whole time, so my throat’s a little dry.”

“Yeah, I’m thirsty, too.” All that weird anxiety had not only made me thirsty, it had made my shoulders stiff.

We joined the flow of people leaving the theater and continued out the exit, down to where it connected to an outdoor staircase. Having finally begun its decent, the sun was blocked from view by a tower, and a breeze blew across the shadow that gently lay over us.

“You wanna go sit down for a while over there?” I pointed at a café nearby at the bottom of the stairs, and Totsuka nodded. A few of our fellow moviegoers were here and there, but there were still seats available for two people. We walked straight in and quickly ordered at the register.

“Um, iced coffee,” I said.

“Oh, I’ll have one, too, then,” said Totsuka.

“Herm. Then I, too, shall indulge in a chilled coffee.”

All three of us ordered iced coffee, so there was no wait. We got our drinks and headed over to occupy a nearby table.

First, I drank a few sips while it was still black, enjoying the essential flavor of the coffee. The crisp bitterness woke up my eyes. Then I added some creamer and liquid sugar. I call this stage Black RX. Yep, I liked it sweet! After moistening our throats, all three of us breathed short, relaxed sighs.

All three of us?

“…Hold on a minute,” I said.

“Huh?” said Totsuka.

“Herm?”

Don’t give me that. I’m talking about you.

The suspicious, bearlike, trench coat–clad individual was sitting with us like he had every right to be there. Yeah, I’d had the feeling he was around. “Um, who are you again?” I asked. “Was it Shinkiba?”

“It’s Zaimokuza, Hachiman.” Totsuka actually gave me a serious reply…

“Well, I don’t care if he’s a Zaimoku or a Kimuraya or what. Where did you crawl out from? Are you one of those bugs that are everywhere? Are you a maize weevil or something?” Or perhaps a varied carpet beetle?

Zaimokuza slurped hard from his straw and raised his head. “Herm. I glimpsed you at the movie theater, and I considered calling out to you, but then I started tracking you and just ended up coming here. Mm-hmm, it seems my active camouflage is in good shape today, as usual.”

“I think everyone was just pretending not to see you,” I said. Well, the reason I hadn’t noticed was because I had eyes only for Totsuka, though.

“I haven’t seen you in a while, Zaimokuza,” Totsuka said to him.

“I-indeed. Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!” Zaimokuza cackled rather anxiously.

Actually, Totsuka’s ability to automatically accept him is downright remarkable. Well, he’s capable of talking with me, so I guess it’s no wonder he can talk to Zaimokuza, too.

“So you saw the same movie?” I asked.

“That I did,” he replied. “But this one was a dud. The unique malice of Japanese horror was missing. ’Twas most pathetic garbage. Fweh-heh! Though ’twas but a horror movie, I am rather an eccentric. When I enjoy a film, I see it not as what is oft called a ‘Hollywood-ized’ form of mass entertainment but rather as a work of art. I suppose ’tis the influence of Lafcadio Hearn. Ah-hur-hurr! Whoops, I guess I let you see my in-depth knowledge there. No disrespect, oh no, fluherple! While this may appear to suggest I am an otaku, I am most certainly not an otaku. Lulz!!”

There he goes… M-2 syndrome types like him are unusually knowledgeable regarding the occult, which can be awkward. They have a half-baked understanding of literary types like Yakumo Koizumi and Kyouka Izumi and also some figures in the study of folk custom, like Kunio Yanagita and Shinobu Orikuchi, but they also have the unfortunate habit of compulsively flaunting their knowledge in detail.

I had ignored the last half of Zaimokuza’s rambling, but Totsuka had listened intently until the very end. He’s so kind, I bet he could get away with charging for it. “You think? I like those kind of movies a lot, though,” said Totsuka.

“Indeed. As do I,” replied Zaimokuza.

“Huh?!”

Zaimokuza’s U-turn was quick and slick. He’d changed his mind so quickly, I could almost see the flash. “Wow,” I commented. “You flip-flopped like a politician.”

“You be silent!” he said. “What did you think of the film, Hachiman?”

“It was all spectacle and easy to follow. Doesn’t matter how good it was.” I mean, I had been watching Totsuka for the whole film, but I’d still gotten a vague idea of the premise.

“Yeah!” agreed Totsuka. “The things coming out of the screen right in your face were spectacular. They got me every time! I thought my heart would stop!”

I feel like my heart is going to stop right this minute. Before Totsuka and his wild gestures, enthusiastically reenacting those scenes, my heart might wear itself out.

“Well, ’twas no botheration for me, since I no longer experience fear,” said Zaimokuza as he began trembling like a leaf. “She Who Must Not Be Named is far more fearsome…foy.” He was indeed like Malfoy, quivering in terror before the memory of Lord Voldemort. The only person I could imagine inspiring that much dread in him was Yukinoshita.

“Yeah, true. Yukinoshita is scarier,” I said.

“Hachiman, that’s a mean thing to say,” said Totsuka. “It’s true that…at first…um…she did scare me a little…but…” His indignant reprimand gradually deflated. “She acts dignified and serious, so she might come off as scary,” he finished.

“She’s also so honest, it’s terrifying,” I said.

“You never know what she’s going to say to you,” Zaimokuza added.

Well, when you go to watch a movie or something with another person, you’re not going to experience it the same way as they would. You might hold similar impressions, but the similarity is proof that something is definitely different. Everyone sees only what they want to see. There are as many interpretations as there are individuals—be they of movies or of people.

That’s why it’s presumptuous to believe you can really understand something. Acting like you do is a sin; it is evil. But even so, you have no choice but to live your life pretending you do. In life, you must both understand and be understood, while both you and those around you minutely redefine what is you and what is them based on vague knowledge that both you and they will disseminate to everyone else. If you don’t do that, your identity will vanish like so much mist. That’s just how vague and uncertain identity is. The more you think about it, the less you understand it, like Gestaltzerfall. Every time your images crumble, you pick up what little scraps of remaining information you have and reconstruct your image of you and them. But they are merely primitive and crude images you’ll interpret however you can, like the simulacrum phenomenon.

If you want to talk horror, that’s horror.

I suddenly felt a chill in the air-conditioned café. Hunching my shoulders, I willed myself not to shiver. I picked up my glass and noticed it was empty. As I gave up and put it down, Zaimokuza continued the conversation.

“But ’twas a good breather. Now I can go back to concentrating on my book. Oh yeah, Hachiman, d-do you want to…look at my draft?”

Don’t give me that blushy little glance. It’s not cute. “If it’s actually done,” I replied. “Wait—do you have it with you right now?”

“Herm, of course,” he said. “He who would be a writer is ready to compose anywhere, at any time. I perpetually have my writing devices close at hand—my laptop, Pomera, tablet, and smartphone.” He looked so proud.

Yeah, some guys are like that… They think just collecting all the tools is enough to have done the task.

Totsuka faced Zaimokuza, respect in his eyes. “Then you’re always working hard on your book, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I said. I can confidently assure you Zaimokuza is not working hard at all. The more someone plays the writer and expounds upon creativity, the fewer words they’ve actually put on a page. I needed to hammer this in, both to caution Totsuka and to prevent him from cultivating a weird sense of admiration for Zaimokuza. Maybe I should hammer some nails into Zaimokuza’s head, too.

Zaimokuza seemed to pick up on my disdain, as he was visibly offended. “Ha-fumf! How insolent. I do not want to hear that from you. Are you aught but idle?”

“Hmm. I guess not. I’m just going to summer classes. Then I did that independent research project.”

“Huh? Was that part of our homework?” Totsuka panicked. From his expression, he had been relaxing in the knowledge that he’d already finished his summer homework.

“No, my sister’s,” I replied.

“Oh, Komachi’s project, huh?” he said. “You’re a good brother, Hachiman.”

“Not really. If I were really a good brother, I would have made her do it herself.”

“What was the topic of this project?” Zaimokuza asked.

“I just threw together random stuff I found on the Internet.”

“Huh?” asked Totsuka. “Are you allowed to do that?”

“Herm,” said Zaimokuza. “Well, ’tis meant to be an independent effort, so I doubt a trifle like that would bother them. In fact, if you get too serious about the project, everyone else will think you’re weird.”

“Yep,” I agreed. “Especially because Komachi is a girl. I hear it’s best not to get too into this kind of thing.” The only thing Komachi had requested about the project is that I should keep it unexceptional and down-to-earth. Come on, that’s a cruel request for a guy like me—if I have to, I’ll fly higher than Dhalsim. I’ll launch myself so high above the stratosphere of what is acceptable, you might as well call me her space brother.

But now that he mentioned it, I do remember one time I put all this effort into an independent research project and then everyone giggled at me for it. I really wish the teacher hadn’t displayed it over the cabinets at the back of the classroom.

“Those are always so hard, huh? You can never think of anything original to do,” Totsuka said, sounding a little nostalgic.

When you’re told you can pick anything, rarely can you actually think of something. I’m not Inventor Boy Kanipan. “That’s the real test of your IQ,” I said. “In my opinion, there’s meaning in testing your creativity and stuff, not just your ability to cram in facts.”

“You seem like you’d be good at that, Zaimokuza,” said Totsuka. “I mean, since you’re aiming to be a writer.”

“He doesn’t seem like he has a very high IQ, though,” I said.

“Herm, well,” said Zaimokuza, “I have a high EQ. My sensitivity is very robust.”

EQ—that is to say, emotional intelligence. This is just my personal opinion, but I think everyone who brings up EQ when you’re talking about IQ, without exception, has low IQ. If they bring up E.T., they’re Spielberg. And just so you know, if they bring up ED, then they’re Pelé.

“Oh yeah,” I added. “And there was that guy who brought his Mini 4WD and said he made it himself.” The moment I said that, Zaimokuza’s whole body twitched, and he started sweating for some reason. Is this guy a toad or something?

“H-huh? Um, H-H-H-Hachiman, did you go to my elementary school?”

“So, you were one of those kids, huh? And don’t get out of character over a little remark like that.” Actually, I just want him to get out, period.

“I used to have a Mini 4WD,” said Totsuka.

“That’s surprising…,” I commented.

“Huh? Why? I’m a boy, too.” He giggled.

I tried to imagine Totsuka as a boy playing with a Mini 4WD, but for some reason an image of him wearing a baseball hat, T-shirt, and leggings popped into my mind. I bet he was cute. Whoops, correction: He’s still cute. They should write that he was cute in times past in Konjaku Monogatari and teach it in schools.

“Ha-mumph. But none could match my Brocken G,” said Zaimokuza. “I had it outfitted with a real hammer. In a head-on collision, it would destroy any opponent without exception.”

“That is the stupidest thing you could do… Ugh, I put a box-cutter blade on my Beak Spider, though, so I can’t talk…” I also attached the marking pin from a sewing set onto my Ray Stinger.

“That stuff’s dangerous, you know,” Totsuka scolded us.

Zaimokuza and I looked at each other. “Relax,” I said. “I just played with it all by myself.”

“Indeed. Loners hurt no one. They hurt only themselves.”

“You’re not allowed to hurt yourself!”

“Okay…” With Totsuka glaring at me, I was sincerely sorry.

“H-herm… B-but I can do legitimate tune-ups, too!” Zaimokuza said. “I am swift like the wind in every race!”

I was getting sick of his declarations. “…What? You think you can beat me? Me, and my Beak Spider? With its small one-way wheels, reston sponge tires, and torque-tuned high-speed gears inside a slim and lightweight body for added air cooling; a stabilizer ball for handling high-speed turns; and a converted aluminum downthrust roller? It’s theoretically as fast as you can get!” I had always played with it alone, so I’d never tested it out. I mean, my parents never bought me a course for it. I used to make my own with cardboard and stuff, but the car just got caught on the tape and didn’t work very well.

Zaimokuza smiled boldly and chuckled. “Heh-heh-heh. Converted aluminum? What utter ignorance… That heavy weight will spell your doom.”

“Yeah, right. My Beak Spider’s low center of gravity makes it stable. That’s where the power comes from.”

“Oh-ho…then shall we settle this with a duel?”

Zaimokuza and I faced each other, glaring as hard as we could. I was inches from punching the air in front of me and yelling out Go! Maaaaagnum! Wait, that’s Galactica Magnum.

We wordlessly exchanged scowls until the silence between us was broken by a rather unexpected statement.

“Oh, that’s so nice!” exclaimed Totsuka. “It’s been so long since I last raced. I’d love to do it again! My Avante was pretty fast.”

““Avante?!””

Why is his from a different generation?! What refined taste, too! So he’s not a mainstream Boomerang or Emperor sort of guy, huh?

…But, well, I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised that we’re of different generations. It’s been years since I last played with my Mini 4WD, but the passion of that era still lives within me. I still pretend my umbrella’s a sword after it rains, saving the world over and over in my imaginary world. I’ll probably still remember it, even as an adult. No matter your generation, ultimately, at the root, you don’t change. That’s why my time as a boy will never end.

“Yeah. This is good.” I voiced my simple impression, and then we both slurped our noodles in silence, drinking the broth with relish. The cloud-ear mushrooms and green onions were a beautiful complement, with the texture of a flounder dancing on your tongue.

With about a quarter of the noodles left, Miss Hiratsuka ordered some more and then spoke to me. “About what we discussed earlier…”

“Yeah?”

“About how you’re fastidious.” When her extra noodles came, she added some leaf mustard. She was smiling. I guess Miss Hiratsuka was getting excited as her customized ramen approached her ideal flavor. “Eventually, I think a time will come when you’ll be more tolerant.”

“Uh-huh.” I gave her a noncommittal reply as I tossed raw garlic into my bowl.

“It’s just like ramen.” Miss Hiratsuka proudly showed off her completed Shizuka Special and continued. “When I was younger, I thought tonkotsu was the ultimate. Fat was true flavor, and I wouldn’t accept anything but rich soup. But then you grow, and you learn how to tolerate light salt and soy sauce broths.”

“I-isn’t that just you getting old?”

“Did you say something?”

“No…” She’s reeeally glaring at me now…

After a momentary scowl, Miss Hiratsuka caught me off guard with another smile. “Well, whatever. You don’t have to tolerate those things right now. If you can one day, that’s enough.”

I think she understands my conflicts and doubts. But even so, she isn’t pointing me toward any concrete answers. Not that I can answer anything right now, anyway.

“Not to say that you’ll be able to tolerate everything. I hate tomatoes, so I still can’t stand tomato noodles.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I can’t stand how squishy they are, and they kinda taste like grass.”

What a kid. But I get her point. For people who hate tomatoes, the gooeyness of the flesh and the seedy bits is its own form of torture. It’s a little gory-looking, too.

“I hate cucumber for similar reasons,” she added.

“I’m not so fond of them, either.” Nope, I don’t like kyuuri. I do like Kiryuu Bannanchiten, though, and Pepsi Ice Cucumber. “Plus, those damn cucumbers sneak into potato salad and sandwiches and make it all taste like cucumber…” I’m okay with them cut into sticks raw or dipped in miso. If they’re by themselves, you can avoid them. But the moment you cut them into round slices, that’s when they go on the attack… They marinate every single flavorful item in their cucumbery taste. And they’re not even that nutritious, either. They’re the predators of the vegetable world.

“They’re good as pickles, though,” noted Miss Hiratsuka. It was something a heavy drinker would say. “I could go for some right now.”

I could agree with that. “Yeah, I’d love a few.” Yes, indeed. Pickles are good. Very refreshing. Best of all, you can eat piles of rice accompanied by nothing but pickled vegetables. It’s heavenly.

“…”

For some reason, the conversation trailed off there, and silence fell upon us. Confused, I looked at Miss Hiratsuka. Had she misheard me or something? She looked totally dazed. When her eyes met mine, she sucked down her water in a sudden panic. “Oh, right, p-pickles. Mm-hmm. M-me too. I…l-love them.”

“Uh, it kind of makes me embarrassed when you stammer like that, so please stop.”

“…Wh-what are you talking about? More importantly…what was I talking about?”

Is she okay? Maybe she should do some brain exercises right now, like a multiplication sheet. Time for some antiaging magic! All I remember talking about are tomatoes and cucumbers, though.

Miss Hiratsuka’s chopsticks moved with nimble cheer. “I’ll give you some char siu.”

“Thanks. Then I’ll give you my menma.”

She chuckled. “Thanks.”

“At your age, you need the fiber.”

“Part of that sentence was unnecessary.”

“Ow!” I rubbed the new bump on my head as I ate.

It seemed Miss Hiratsuka had taken a liking to this ramen. She was smiling with satisfaction. “Now that you’ve found me such a good shop, though, I feel like I have to show you one, too.”

“Any recommendations?”

“Yeah. When I was a student, I knocked out most of the ramen shops in the Chiba city area. But as a teacher, I can’t really be going out a lot with a student. I’ll show you around once you’ve graduated.”

“Oh, no, I don’t need you to come. You can just tell me where it is.”

Crack.

The sound of something snapping struck me as particularly loud, even in this busy shop.

“Whoops, I broke my chopsticks.”

“Please, I’d love it if you took me…” I don’t think chopsticks usually break in your hands…

“Mm-hmm. Look forward to it,” she said. I think she was the one looking forward to it.

Ramen tastes all right when you’re eating it with someone else. It’s good when you’re alone and with good company.

It’s settled: Ramen is the greatest food. You can’t convince me otherwise.

When I opened the door, she waved. “Oh, yahallo!”

“’Sup.”

“Here’s your souvenir,” she said, handing me a paper bag.

From the size and weight, it didn’t seem to be a wooden sword. Too bad. I would have been rather pleased to receive a keychain of a little sword with some random dragon winding around it or a glow-in-the-dark skull keychain.

“You can only get them there!” she said.

“Huh…”

I looked into the paper bag, as Yuigahama instructed, and inside were sweets from her trip. Well, they were a regional version of snack you’d often see for sale. It was a pretty safe choice. It indicated where she had gone, and she had also been careful to choose something that few people would dislike. The sweets were in individually wrapped packets, so it would be easy to pass around at work or school. It was a very tactful souvenir. But seeing her gift suddenly reminded me of a particular incident. “These are…”

“Huh? You don’t like them?” Yuigahama peered into the paper bag in my hands, looking worried.

“No, they’re fine, but…girls always buy something like this as a souvenir, don’t they? And then they pass them around to all the other girls in class.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Some people don’t, though. Like Yumiko.”

Miura, huh? I’d expect nothing less of the queen. She takes it for granted that other people should be the ones buying stuff for her, and I can respect that. “Once, someone put a wrapper from some region-limited snack into my shoe cubby,” I said. “It was definitely one of the girls in my class. She clearly had no desire to hide the crime, either. Her confidence just made it hurt all the more…” A dry chuckle welled up in my throat.

Panicking, Yuigahama attempted to amend the situation. “I-it’s okay—that’s not gonna happen this time!”

“I hope not.”

“It’ll be fine!” Yuigahama insisted, clenching a fist. “Nobody’s even aware of you enough to do something like that.”

“That’s true.” Her comforting skills were practically nonexistent, but she was actually convincing anyway, so whatever. I’m really glad my stealth abilities have been giving me results. They’re so good, they could even work on the Ant King. I was relieved to hear I would be able to spend the second semester in peace and tranquility.

Yuigahama, however, was peering into the house from the door with a little concern. “So how is Sablé?”

“Oh, he’s good,” I told her. “Komachi!” I called into the house.

Komachi came to the door, holding Sablé in her arms. He yipped.

When she saw him, Yuigahama smiled. “Thanks, Komachi!”

“It was nothing,” my sister replied.

Yuigahama petted the dog in Komachi’s arms and asked, “He didn’t cause you trouble?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” replied Komachi. “We played together with Dog-lingual and stuff. It was fun.”

“Dog-lingual? Oh, that thing. I remember they used to have that, a long time ago.”

“There’s an app out now,” I said, but since it would be faster just to actually show her, I launched the program.

“Let me see, let me see.” Yuigahama circled around for a better view of my phone, and then to test it out, she tried calling out to her dog. “Come on, Sablé! It’s me!”

Sablé tilted his head, looking puzzled. “Waff?” (Who’s she?)

“Sablé?!”

The despair in her tone probably startled him, as he yipped and ran around my ankles. I scooped him up in my arms and then gently put him into the carrier Komachi had brought over. I zipped it up and handed it to Yuigahama. “Here. He’ll remember you in a couple of days.”

“Ngh… I really wanted him to remember…” She was half in tears, but she held the carrier firmly and with care. Sablé pressed his nose against the mesh and whined.

“…See you, then,” I said. I hadn’t been all that partial to the dog, but now that it was time to part, there was a little something welling up inside me. If he started yipping in protest, then all the more.

“Bring Sablé over again sometime to play, Yui.” Komachi, her eyes a little wet, took Yuigahama’s hand. She had been glued to our guest for the past three days.

“I will! For sure!”

“Yes, please do,” said Komachi. “When our parents are here, with a box of cakes, while you’re doing your greetings.” Komachi’s eyes glinted suspiciously.

“Yeah, greeting your pa… Wait, what?! No! No, I’m not going after all!”

Komachi clicked her tongue quietly, her expression quickly changing back to normal. “Anyway, I hope you do come over again sometime. I’ll be waiting.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Yuigahama expressed her gratitude, then heaved up Sablé and the rest of the doggy things. It was about time for her to go.

And that’s when I remembered. “Oh yeah, about Yukinoshita. She might be at the fireworks show. Miss Hiratsuka was saying that since it’s a municipal event, a lot of VIPs will be showing up with their families.”

“Oh, really? All right. I’ll go and check it out.” Yuigahama paused for a moment as if something had suddenly occurred to her. She quietly took a deep breath and focused on me. “U-um…s-so do you want to go see the fireworks together? As thanks for taking care of Sablé. I’ll buy you some kind of food there.”

“You hear that, Komachi? Let’s go to the fireworks,” I said.

The two of us going alone together had never been an option. Besides, I mean, if this was her thank-you, Komachi should go as the one who had actually been taking care of Sablé.

Komachi apparently saw right through me. She set her hands on her hips and let out a tiny sigh of exasperation. “Good grief,” she muttered, “completely useless, as always,” but I ignored her. Komachi offered Yuigahama her apologies. “Oh, I’m really flattered by your invitation. But I’m so busy studying for exams. I know you want to do something for me, but I don’t know if I can go out…”

“Oh…of course.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Buuut! But, but! There’s some stuff I’d like you to come help me buy. But, well… Agh, I just don’t have the time to go! I really want it, but I don’t have the time to go shopping! Whatever shall I do?! It’s so much to carry, too, so you’d have some trouble getting it on your own, Yui,” Komachi recited with incredibly forced delivery, and then the little twit looked right at me.

Yuigahama realized what that meant and jumped on that opportunity with gusto. “Oh! Y-yeah! Hikki! Why don’t you come with me to buy that thank-you gift for Komachi? She’s done a lot for you, too, after all!”

“U-uh… Well, um…” I racked my brain for a reply, but Yuigahama was staring straight at me.

I could hear Komachi whispering quietly behind me. “I’d be worried about a girl going all alone to the fireworks show, you know! It’s so dangerous out there these days… Oh, if only there were some boy right now who had the time to go…”

“U-um, if you have plans to go with someone, or if you’re busy, you…don’t…have to, though…” Yuigahama hedged, giving me a timid glance.

When I say I’m doing “nothing much,” I’m doing literally nothing. So of course I was also free on the day of the fireworks. Plus, in the face of such an appeal, there was no way I could refuse. The inner and outer moats were already filled in. It was like the summer campaign of the Siege of Osaka.

“Well, since this is for Komachi, too, then. Call me whenever,” I said, returning to the living room.

Just before I shut the door, her cheerful reply reached my back. “Yeah, I’ll e-mail you later!”

With Sablé gone, the house was now quiet. It was so still, it was like all that 24/7 yipping had never happened. As I washed the dishes, the clinking rang out clearly. When I turned off the faucet in front of me, I could hear the sound of an insect far away. The Hikigaya household would probably remain in this typically tranquil mood until our parents came home.

From the kitchen, I could see Komachi sinking into the sofa, somehow cheerless as she let out a long sigh. I filled a glass with barley tea pulled from the fridge and handed it to her. “For all your hard work.”

She accepted the proffered glass and guzzled it down all in one go, giving a satisfied ahhh before returning the glass to me with a grunt. “Man, I’m tired… I feel like I’ve just sent my child off into the world.” Komachi seemed greatly aged, wearing a calm expression that belonged on a granny zoning out on the veranda.

“It’s that bad…?”

“But this is Yui, so maybe I can relax and leave it to her…”

“He was never your dog in the first place. Just how shameless can you get…?” I sighed.

Komachi looked up at me, tilting her head. “Huh? Oh, we’re talking about Sablé?”

“What? We weren’t? Then what were we talking about?”

“Nothing!” On the sofa, Komachi flopped over and rolled around lazily. She reached out to pull a cushion toward her but was prevented by the sleeping Kamakura sprawled out on top of it. The cat seemed more relaxed than usual. He usually slept curled up, but this time he was stretched out with abandon, with one paw stretched over his head, one paw on the chest, and one leg bent like that guy who always went “Sheeeh!” I guess now that Sablé was gone, he could finally let his guard down. His fuzzy tummy was completely exposed and vulnerable. It was the kind of no-guard strategy that would make even Southern Black Panther Ray Sefo reflexively go on the defensive.

When Komachi saw that, her eyes sparkled. “Kaaaa-yutie!” She pounced on him, burying her face in his tummy, smooshing his paws so hard they might come off and purring in unison with him. “Oh! We could ask what he really feels like right now! Bro, Cat-lingual! Hurry up and get it! Come on, come on!”

“A-all right.” As instructed, I hurriedly got my phone, launched the app, and immediately handed the phone to Komachi. Komachi thrust it in Kamakura’s face.

“Purr, purr, purr.” (I’m suffocating… Help… Itchy. Tasty.)

“Kaa?!” Komachi panicked.

Hey, is this cat okay? And is the guy who made this app okay? He’s the one who’s messed up, isn’t he?

After that little incident, Komachi played with Kamakura nonstop as if to stave off her loneliness. Though Sablé hadn’t been with us for very long, she had given him a lot of TLC.

Their frolicking made for a charming scene, and after I’d watched them for a little while, Komachi peeked at my phone. “Oh, Bro,” she said. “Your battery’s running out.” She held it out to me.

“Mm-hmm. Okay,” I said, accepting it. Indeed, the battery life was down to a few percent. It would run out of juice at any minute. I noticed the tiny clock displayed in the upper corner of the screen—it was getting rather late. “Perfect timing. You should get back to studying.”

“Okaaay!” Komachi gave Kamakura one final pet and slid off the couch to leave the living room. She was probably going to study in her own room.

Finally released from Komachi’s clutches, Kamakura sauntered up to me just as he had when Sablé had been with us, looking drowsy and tired. You’ve been working hard, too.

While I was hunting for my charger so I could keep my phone on, Kamakura gave a high-pitched mewl. The Cat-lingual app was still running, and it flashed some characters on the screen.

I laughed in spite of myself when I saw it. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Kamakura meowed once more in reply, but the screen had already gone dark.

“No, it’s fine.” We were facing each other, but for some reason, we both fell silent. Yuigahama lowered her eyes, smoothing her hair over her head. Are you Hamtaro or what? “Well, um…your yukata is nice,” I said.

Why am I complimenting her yukata? You’re supposed to compliment what’s inside it.

But Yuigahama seemed to get the idea before I could correct myself. Her eyes darted all around as she replied, “Um…th-thank you.”

Silence again. What am I supposed to do here? The only thing I can think of that’s this silent is Seagal. In an attempt to rescue us from deadlock, I spoke. “…So…let’s get going.”

“…Yeah.” I began to walk, and she clip-clopped behind me.

We passed through the ticket gates and waited for the train coming from Tokyo. Yuigahama was looking at her feet the entire time, not saying a single word. I’m not the type to be bothered by silence. But Yuigahama is. She gets particular over such trivial stuff, and that got me anxious because maybe if I didn’t say anything, she’d get angry. I figured I’d just say something, anything, to get things going. “Hey, so why did you want to meet at a random halfway point instead of just meeting up there?”

“Because…it’s hard to meet up when there’s so many people.”

“You have a phone, don’t you?”

“It’s hard to hear, though.”

Oh yeah. Now that she mentioned it, I’d heard it’s hard to hear your phone when you’re in a crowded place. I’ve never used a cell phone in a crowd, so I thought that was an urban legend. Not that I use my phone very much in less crowded places, either, though.

“Besides, meeting up there would just be…bland,” she said.

“Why would you need it to be flavorful? It’s not seaweed.”

“Wh-who cares! Do you have a problem with it?”

“No, ma’am.” She got mad at me…

And so silence fell again. Though it was still completely bright out, we were groping through the darkness, sensing nothing but each other’s presence.

“So this fireworks show…”

“About the fireworks show—” We started at the same time.

Flustered, Yuigahama gestured for me to go ahead.

“…So this fireworks show,” I asked, “do you usually go?”

“Oh yeah. I go every year with friends.” Right as she replied, the train came.

“Huh.”

A lot of the people on the train were probably headed out to see the fireworks. Not only were they wearing yukata—some were carrying vinyl picnic blankets and parasols. It was pretty packed. But it was just one stop. We stood beside the door. The doors rattled shut, and then the train began to move.

“Were you going to say something before?” I asked.

“Yeah. Um…I was gonna ask…have you ever been to the fireworks?”

What a blindingly trivial question. “Oh, we were thinking the same thing!” Stop it. Stop that shy little smile. It’s catching. It’s gonna be a real pandemic.

I averted my eyes and checked my watch. Still only four, huh…? “I went once before when I was in elementary school, with my family.”

“Really?” And the conversation cut off again. Our conversation had been cut in so many places, it was practically a tuna. The train continued on. Right about when I caught a glimpse of Port Tower in the distance, we began to brake.

“Eek!” Yuigahama yelped, and I heard the sound of geta clacking as a sweet scent wafted into my nose. A soft weight pressed into my shoulder. Yuigahama had lost her balance—probably because of those sandals she wasn’t used to—and had fallen over on me. I caught her automatically.

“…”

“…”

Our faces were incredibly close. She blushed red and quickly backed away. “S-sorry…”

“Hmm. Well, it’s crowded…” I turned my head away, pretending to watch the scenery from the window. I breathed a long sigh and hid my face from Yuigahama. Although the moment had passed, I was breaking out in sweat.

M-man, that made me nervous… Phew, that was close. So close. Moments like that could make a regular guy inadvertently fall for her.

But that wasn’t going to happen here. I’m not having any more misunderstandings, making any more assumptions, or getting the wrong idea ever again. Trying to find meaning in plain coincidence or mere phenomena is the kind of bad habit you see in guys who can’t get girls. When she greets you in the morning, that’s just common politeness.

When she drops her handkerchief in front of you, that’s carelessness. And when a girl at your part-time job gives you her e-mail address, it’s because she wants you to cover her shift. I don’t believe in coincidence, fate, or destiny. All you can believe in are company orders.

I really think you shouldn’t turn into that kind of adult. I don’t wanna get a job…

When we emerged from the station, the area was overflowing with people and abuzz with noise. Port Tower soared over us, reflecting the world below in its mirrored walls and intensifying the light of the sunset. It was as if that light were stirring up the expectations of the crowds even more as they eagerly awaited the start of the show. They were all laughing loudly and exchanging cheery, joyful looks.

There were your standard food stalls like takoyaki and okonomiyaki all along the way, neighborhood convenience stores and liquor stores lining up their goods outside under their awnings, and restaurants announcing that you could see the fireworks from their shop as they enthusiastically reeled in customers. It was summer in Japan. It must be wired into us at a genetic level, because you can’t help but get excited. The Chiba Municipal Fireworks Festival was about to begin.

The station wasn’t too far from the place where they’d be shooting off the fireworks. I’d even say the entire park is adjacent to the station. But the area was jammed with so many people, it was hard going. Normally, the plaza was deserted, giving the area a wide-open feel, but now, even from afar, I could see it was submerged under the waves of people. The air was stuffy, but there was a pleasant sea breeze blowing through.

When I checked the clock, it was still only just after six. I was pretty sure the fireworks were starting around seven thirty. So what to do until then? I turned to Yuigahama beside me and asked, “Looks like we still have some time, so what do you want to do? Go back?”

“I’m not going back! How can you just automatically suggest we go home?!”

That was a bad habit of mine. Whenever I go out, I’m thinking about when I get home. No matter when and where I go, I always prioritize getting back alive—I’d make such a great spy or ninja, it’s worrying. “Then what do you want to do?” I asked. I was just about to add, Go home after all? when Yuigahama pulled her cell phone out of her drawstring coin purse.

“Umm, well, Komachi sent me an e-mail with a list of the stuff she wanted us to buy.” She tapped her phone a few times and then showed it to me. All the sparkling, garish, cumbersome rhinestones on her phone made it an eyesore, but I decided to focus on the screen for the moment.

Komachi’s shopping list

Yakisoba…400 yen.

Cotton candy…500 yen.

Ramune…300 yen.

Takoyaki…500 yen.

Your memories of the fireworks…priceless.

What’s with that last line?

Your big brother is imagining you typing this out with a smug look on your face, Komachi, and he’s a little embarrassed…

Yuigahama seemed to notice my eye-rolling, as she gave me a strained smile and tittered. This is humiliating! Your big brother is so ashamed now!

Man, Komachi strikes again. Nobody asked for your schemes, I thought. Well, I get that she’s trying to be helpful in her own way. I’m not so dense that I can’t figure out an obvious setup like this.

In fact, I’m on the perceptive side. I’m sensitive, I’m oversensitive, and I overreact.

The reason is because about 80 percent of boys in the world harbor feelings about a girl and think, Maybe she likes me? That’s exactly why you have to be the one to bully yourself. You always have to have that calm and cool person inside you who will shoot you that chilly glare: Of course not. I don’t trust other people much, but I trust myself less.

I let out a short sigh and tried to change the mood. “Then let’s just go get these one by one.”

“Okay.” Maybe it was because of Komachi’s lame e-mail, or maybe the cheer of the festival had gotten to her, but Yuigahama had a bounce in her step as she clip-clopped along in her geta. Even amid the noisy throng, I could hear her footsteps and her humming.

People were still flowing into the plaza. The usual food stalls were lined up everywhere, and each one was packed with customers. I knew all the food was mediocre, but seeing the spread in front of me, illuminated by the light of bare light bulbs, it was more appetizing than I had expected. The glistening sauce and oil on the yakisoba made it look exceptionally juicy. So juicy that I thought this was Kabaya.

Yuigahama oohed, too, her eyes sparkling as she tugged at my sleeve. “Hey, hey, what do you want to eat first? Candied apples? How about candied apples?”

“That’s not on the list.” And since when did our goal become eating and not shopping?

Yuigahama eyed the candied apples before reluctantly turning back to me, her phone in hand. “Then what do you want to get first?”

“First, we’ll get the things that aren’t temperature sensitive, I guess. So then that means the cotton ca—”

“Oh, wow! You can win a PS3 here!” Just as I was about to walk away, Yuigahama yanked on my sleeve. Her attention was glued to the treasure fishing booth. There was a PS3 and other generous prizes piled up there.

“Come on, you’re never going to win that…,” I said. “Anyway, just listen to me.”

“Huh? But they’ve got strings attached to them,” she said.

“Yeah, they’re attached somewhere. Who knows where, though.” Each prize had a string attached to it. All the strings were then bunched together before splitting off again in every direction. The customer would have no idea what kind of trick was between the string ends and the prizes. “Listen. Any time they show off all the good stuff like that, it’s a trap. If something looks like it’s gonna work out in your favor, there’s always a catch. That’s common sense.”

“In what world is that common sense? …The criminal underworld?”

Our conversation was earning us a glare from the old guy at the treasure fishing booth, so I quietly hurried toward the next stall to escape.

I figured we’d get the cotton candy first. The machine at the cotton candy stand rumbled and vibrated as it disseminated its sweet scent into the air, spinning fluffy white threads and weaving them together. The cotton candy was then stuffed into bags and hung from the awning. All the bags had anime characters or superheroes printed on them—probably making Toei money.

This stuff is the same in every generation. I think it was like this when I was little, too. Yuigahama apparently shared a similar sense of nostalgia, since she was the same age as I was. She was watching the cotton candy tenderly. “Wow, this stuff really takes me back! Hey, which one do you want?”

I pointed to the pink bag in front of me and paid five hundred yen.

Okay, look—I have absolutely no interest in anime for little girls, and I never even watch that stuff, but since Komachi’s a girl, um, I thought I should get one of those, uh, P-P-Precue-whatevers? Those. Yeah. Not that I’m interested. At all. I give so few shits about that stuff, I can’t even tell Jewelpet and Pretty Rhythm apart.

After we got the cotton candy, we bought the Ramune and then the takoyaki. “We’ll get the yakisoba next, I guess?” suggested Yuigahama.

“Yeah. I think it was over that way…”

I spun around to start toward the next stall, and that’s when I noticed a girl looking our way. She gave us a tiny wave and approached us. “Oh, it’s you, Yui!”

“Oh, Sagamin!” Yuigahama gave her a tiny wave in return and took a few steps toward the other girl. Both of them were doing the exact same thing.

Oh, so this is that mirroring thing, huh? I saw on Tokumei Research that emulating another person’s gestures is a technique to make them sympathize with you easier.

So…who was this girl?

At times like these, it’s best to fade out, to sink into the background. I’ll become a tree!

Man, I could really detect a subtle difference in friendliness in the way they called out to each other. Yuigahama’s greeting was entirely sincere. The other girl—this Sagamin or whoever—wasn’t entirely friendly, but she was like, We’re close enough not to be acting distant, right?

So yeah, anyway, who was this chick?

I guess the girl was thinking the same thing as I was, if her questioning look was any indication. “Um…”

“Oh!” said Yuigahama. “Yeah, of course. This is Hikigaya. He’s in our class. Hikigaya, this is Minami Sagami, also in our class.”

Huh. So we’re in the same class? Now that I think of it, I might’ve seen her before.

Sagami gave a faint, casual bow, and that’s when our eyes met.

It was just a flash.

For a fleeting moment, a smile appeared on her face.

“Oh, really! You guys came together, huh? It’s been an all-girls fireworks show for me. So jealous! I bet you’re having a great time…”

Yuigahama seemed unsure how to respond, but she played along and laughed anyway. “Why are you making it sound like the All-Girls Swimming Show? And it’s really not like that with us.”

But I didn’t feel like laughing at all. I was well acquainted with the smile on Sagami’s face just then. It had been neither a grin nor a guffaw. It had been an undeniable sneer. She’d taken one look at the guy Yui Yuigahama was out with and clearly scoffed.

“Huh? Why not?” said Sagami. “It’s summertime! That sort of thing is nice.” The smile on her lips was unfaltering as she briefly scanned me for an evaluation.

That single act froze my heart so cold it was as if that earlier warmth had never been.

And when my heart cools, so does my head. My thoughts became clear and crisp, as if liquid nitrogen were trickling down my spine. My reason and logic and experience all joined forces and faced off against my emotions. It took no time whatsoever for them to reach their verdict, and I easily wrestled my feelings into submission.

I had been about to make another mistake.

Minami Sagami and I have nothing to do with each other. We don’t really know each other. And what is the fastest way to understand someone you don’t know well?

Label them.

All she has to go on is my social status. And I’m not just talking about Sagami. Everyone does this. Before you get to know someone personally, first you make a guess about them based purely on their associations with certain groups and places and the ranks and titles they hold. It’s very common to judge someone as a person based on their school or your job.

You don’t hear much about it recently, but an extreme example is the plausible rumors of academic-background filters during job-hunting season.

Yuigahama is a border-transgressing individual with strong communication skills, so I’m prone to forgetting that she’s fundamentally a member of the highest caste in our class and our school. I, on the other hand, am at the bottom. Yukinoshita was something else altogether—she was positioned outside the school caste system, but from the perspective of a neutral party, any interaction between Yuigahama and me would seem like nothing more than charity on her part.

I’ve really made things awkward here… I knew all the teens in the neighborhood would be coming out for a big fireworks event like this. I hadn’t thought this through.

You could describe this event as a sort of social networking opportunity for ladies. The boy she brings along could be considered a kind of status symbol, just like how one could measure a girl’s value based on the bag she carries or the brand of clothing she wears. For example, if Yuigahama were here with Hayama instead of me, I bet everyone would be reacting totally differently. She’d be invited to the victory interviews tonight. But coming with me, she was basically getting a court-martial and trial in absentia.

I don’t believe we live in different worlds. This would feel so much easier if we did. We’ve both got one foot in the same world, and that’s what makes it such a pain in the ass.

I’m okay no matter how much people sneer at me, but I’d feel bad turning Yuigahama into an object of ridicule, too. “It looks like there’s a line for the yakisoba. I’m gonna go wait over there.”

“Oh yeah. I’ll be there soon,” Yuigahama replied with a somewhat apologetic smile. She stayed where she was, and I quickly left.

Anything that would earn Yuigahama scorn, however small, should be quickly jettisoned. I could hear Yuigahama and Sagami continuing their conversation behind me, but I wasn’t listening as I walked away.

I found my way to the yakisoba stall, relying only on a brief memory of its location and the scent of sauce. The sight of the stir-fried noodles in the transparent plastic containers held shut by elastic bands and lit by the warm-colored glow of the bare light bulb made me weirdly hungry. I paid for the yakisoba and took a container, and that’s when Yuigahama showed up.

“Sorry,” she said, looking a little awkward.

But she had nothing to apologize for, so I didn’t quite know how to respond. “The candied apples,” I muttered.

“Huh?” Yuigahama blinked.

“You wanted to get one, right?” I reminded her.

“Y-yeah! I do, yeah! I’ll give you half, too!”

“I don’t want any.” Well, um, uh, if you could cut it in half precisely with a knife or something, then I suppose I’d be okay with that, like, you know…

Anyway, now I was fairly sure we had bought everything on the list. It was right about time for the fireworks to start. I didn’t have to look at the clock to tell—the stirring of the crowd told me.

The sun finally sank into Tokyo Bay, and the heavens were filled with indigo-blue darkness. The moon rose high as if eagerly anticipating the fireworks that would be launched toward it. We made our way from the road lined with food stands to the main venue, where the plaza was already overflowing with people. Plastic picnic blankets covered every square inch of ground as people shared preliminary drinks. From far away, I heard a child crying, and immediately afterward, a nearby exchange of angry bellows.

All that meant there was nowhere to sit or go. If I had been alone, I would have been able to manage. I could have sat wherever or gone farther away to watch the fireworks. But with Yuigahama along, it was another matter entirely. We obviously couldn’t be standing for the whole thing, so I decided to look for a place where the two of us could sit. But we didn’t even have any newspapers to sit on, never mind plastic blankets. Yuigahama was in a yukata, so she probably wouldn’t want to sit straight on the ground. Maybe a nearby bench? I thought, but apparently everyone else had been thinking the same thing, as the benches were already occupied.

Oh, hey, we have nowhere to go, just like me at a school event.

“Man, it sure is crowded,” Yuigahama said with an awkward ta-ha-ha.

Yes, indeed. “If I’d known it’d be this crowded, I would’ve at least brought a little plastic sheet,” I said.

“N-ngh… That kinda makes it my fault. Sorry, I should have told you.”

“…That’s not what I meant. I’m just not used to this stuff. I wasn’t thinking that far ahead. Sorry.” If I had spared it a little more thought, I could have predicted this. I was a little weary of my own carelessness.

A guy who actually gets girls would probably have thoroughly prepared everything and given her the attention she deserves. Gently taking the lead is more important than being good-looking or whatever. You know, sending sincere e-mails, looking up stuff before you go out together, or taking her mind off things with snappy conversation when you have to wait in a long line.

…Man, what the hell? That all sounds really hard. If you have to do all that to get girls, then I’m fine going without, seriously. And, like, why is it always the guy doing all the work? What happened to gender equality? …Hey! Why do they call it being a “player” when it’s actually nothing but work? Wow, that joke was stupid. But my knack for those is one of my favorite things about myself.

Anyway. I think forcing yourself to keep up appearances and putting up this identity that isn’t yours, a mask you don’t wear when you’re alone, is phony. If you have to do all that stuff to get someone to love you, then can you really say they love you and who you really are? Once you change yourself to win affection, to win love, I don’t even know if you can still call you you. If you’ve built your relationship on pretense and lies, it’ll probably fail in some way or another, and if you’ve fundamentally changed yourself, then it’s not really you.

These trivial musings brought a small sigh from my lips. My eyes had been drifting downward, and as I made a conscious effort to raise them again, they met Yuigahama’s as she stood there stupidly with her mouth hanging open. “What…?” I asked.

“…So you can be considerate.”

“Huh? Don’t be stupid. Of course I can. When I sit quietly in the corner so as not to bother anyone, that’s me being considerate.” I don’t talk to people, I walk one step behind others instead of walking abreast, and I never invite anyone out so as not to interfere with their plans. I’m so mindful, I’m practically in a state of permanent meditation.

Yuigahama laughed. “That’s not the kind of thing I mean. Um, I mean, like, you’re nice? Sorta.”

“Oh-ho, so you’ve noticed. Yes indeed, I am nice. It is because though I have suffered many wrongs, I have always turned a blind eye to everyone and everything, renouncing revenge. If I were a regular individual, the world would be over by now. I’m like Jesus, in a way.”

“A regular person can’t destroy the world! And regular people don’t suffer many wrongs!”

Damn, that was a sincere reply. “Well, whatever. Anyway, there might a space over there. Let’s go take a look,” I said.

“Okay.”

We began to proceed, but only moments previously a rush had begun toward the food stands and the bathrooms, so we were forced to swim against the current as we moved forward. I weaved through the spaces between the masses of people jumbled together. It’s a habit of mine to walk without making a sound.

Once I find a gap to squeeze through, a little crowd like this is nothing for me. I’m a star player on par with the Japan National Soccer Team. Ha! I’m an expert at going against the flow. I mean, the world is always leaving me behind, so I’m constantly struggling upstream.

I slipped through the waves of people coming at me like I was dodging wooden men to become a Shaolin monk, eventually coming out to an area where the tide of people began to slow. But then I realized Yuigahama might not have been able to keep up. Oh man, my skills led me too far ahead, huh? I thought and turned back, but it turned out there was no problem.

Yuigahama sprinkled apologies of “Pardon!” and “Sorry!” and “Excuse me!” here and there as she slipped and knifehanded through the crowd.

Whoa, she’s got a knack for keeping tabs on her surroundings…

“What’s wrong?” She caught up to me easily, tilting her head with a questioning noise.

“Nothing.” Now that I think about it, someone who is used to crowds like this would obviously be better at handling them. It was apparently not Stealth Hikki’s game. “It looks like here is less crowded.”

“This is the toll section,” said Yuigahama.

Looking around, I saw that there was indeed a black-and-yellow rope clearly cordoning off the area. The entire clearing was encircled by trees, so normally it would be a bit hard to see the fireworks from there. But the toll area was on the top of a small hill, making the view exceptionally good. They seemed serious about security, too. I could see part-timers loitering and circling the area. If we stayed standing here, they would probably drive us away. “I guess we can look some more,” I said. The traffic was a little milder when we hugged the rope, so I prompted Yuigahama to follow and began walking.

“Huh? Is that you, Hikigaya?”

The blackness of the night made a striking contrast with the dark-blue cloth of her refined-looking yukata; its pattern of giant lilies and autumn grass lent its wearer a chaste appearance.

Sitting there was Haruno Yukinoshita.

The rope drew a literal line between our position and hers in the special section. With the people around her at her beck and call, the chair she sat on was like a throne, and she was the picture of an empress.

At 7:40, ten minutes after the scheduled time, they broadcast an announcement declaring that the fireworks were now to begin. A smattering of applause went up from the crowd, and someone got excited enough to let out a piercing whistle. If he had been nearby, I might have punched him. I get the impression that about 50 percent of the guys who whistle arrogantly like that are actually the quiet type, and it’s only times like these when they cause a racket.

The paid section was on the highest part of the hill within this open area, and it was also directly in front of where they’d be launching the fireworks, so you’d be able to see the show without the trees around obstructing your view. Technically, you had to buy a ticket to get in, but Haruno gestured for us to enter.

“I’m representing my father, you see, so I’ve had to greet so many people. I was getting bored. I’m glad to see you here, Hikigaya!”

“Huh. So you’re the representative. Wow.” I basically ignored the latter half of what she had said as my eyes darted around.

Haruno chuckled. “I guess these are what you call VIP seats. You wouldn’t be able to get in, normally.” She bragged with the innocence of a child. Sometimes unconcealed pride doesn’t come off as arrogant.

Haruno Yukinoshita has such a straightforward nature, and I think that’s part of what makes her so charismatic. All she had to say was “Sorry, my friends were late,” and the people who had clustered around her immediately backed away. What’s more, even when she beckoned us into the VIP area, the part-time guards didn’t seem to see anything out of the ordinary about it. They didn’t come over to check what was going on, not even once. Real VIPs are pretty amazing.

“You’re a celebrity…” Yuigahama breathed a sigh that rode the fine line between admiration and shock.

Haruno giggled. “Well, you know my father’s job, right? He’s got a lot of clout at municipal events like this.”

“Prefectural assembly has clout, even in the city?” I asked.

“Oh, you’re sharp. I’d expect nothing less from you. But I’d say it’s less because of the prefectural assembly and more because of the company.”

I think her family does construction or something. If their business includes some public works stuff, well, I bet they would have clout. There have always been three things that are important to get elected, the so-called 3 F’s: a foundation of public support, a figurehead, and full bags, and I’d say she’s got all three. And for your information, “full bags” basically means cash. You could also call it “for kickback.” And by the way, the three most important bags are plastic bags, the bags under your eyes, and my old bag. Hey, what are you implying about my mom?

While the mayor or whoever it was expounded at length upon his gratitude for all parties concerned and made his congratulations and whatnot, Haruno offered us seats next to her own. Yuigahama and I decided to gratefully take her up on her offer. Bowing to her, we both sat down.

I would have leaned back and relaxed, but with Haruno beside me, I couldn’t. It wasn’t just nervousness because she was a pretty older girl—what I was really scared of was her all-too-perfect outer mask. I got the feeling that something dark was surging within her, and I’m not good at dealing with that sort of thing.

All of a sudden, she leaned right against my ear and whispered into it. “By the way…I’m not impressed to see you playing around with another girl.”

“Um, I’m not playing around…”

Her expression immediately turned frigid. “So then you’re serious about her, huh? That’s even worse.”

“Ow, ow, ow!” She tugged my ear just like Sazae does to Katsuo. I escaped quickly, so she didn’t damage it too badly, but if she had pulled it a little harder, I might have gone and ended up inviting Nakajima to play baseball with me. “We aren’t serious, either…,” I said. What the hell, man, I can’t handle pain. I am not playing the field, nor have I reached any bases with either of them. There will be no home runs but no strikeouts, either. I’m sitting on the bench, thank you very much, so whatever she wants me to say, it’s not gonna happen.

Right as I deflected Haruno’s attack, the bigwig on the loudspeaker finished his announcements, and finally, the first of the fireworks was to be launched. An extralarge cluster bloomed into enormous flowers in the night sky to musical accompaniment. Layer upon layer of red, yellow, and orange lights spread out in the sky without pause, continuously lighting the darkness.

“Ooh…”

The flowering halos were beautifully reflected in the half-mirror glass of the Port Tower, brightening the night. This was to be the beginning of eight thousand shots of continuous technicolor fireworks. They boomed and popped with a do-don-PA! again and again. There were so many dodonpas, I was like, are you Mercenary Tao or what?

Amid the ringing sounds of bursting fireworks, Haruno’s chair creaked as she settled deeper into it.

“U-um…” Yuigahama began to speak to Haruno, with me between the both of them. She’d probably been looking for the right moment.

Haruno blinked her big eyes. “Um…Something-gahama, was it?”

“I-it’s Yuigahama.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry, sorry.” Though I could sense absolutely no malice in her, that flub had definitely been deliberate. Haruno was not the type to forget names so easily. I mean, this was a character who rivaled Yukino Yukinoshita… No, Haruno most likely surpassed her. I couldn’t suppress my suspicion that that little slip of the tongue was meant to accomplish something. When I gave her a long, hard look to try to divine what it might be, she giggled. A shiver went down my spine. It was like her smile was flaunting her ability to read me like a book. It was its beauty that made it scary.

“Yukinon isn’t with you today?” asked Yuigahama.

“I think Yukino-chan’s at home,” said Haruno. “Public appearances are my job, after all. I told you I’m my father’s representative, didn’t I? I didn’t exactly come here for fun.” Haruno jabbed a finger at herself as she gave a jocular grin. “Coming out to occasions like these is my job as the eldest daughter. That’s always been my mother’s policy.”

I seemed to remember that the younger sister had said something similar…that it was Haruno’s role to be the public face, and that she herself was only a substitute. I figured that meant Haruno was their father’s official successor. Well, I feel like it’s extremely reasonable to designate your eldest child as your successor. But that alone was not enough of an explanation.

“Does that mean that Yukinon isn’t allowed to come?” asked Yuigahama.

Sure, it was fine that Haruno was the successor. But that didn’t explain why Yukinoshita couldn’t be here.

Haruno gave something of a troubled smile. “Hmm, well…that’s what our mother wants. Besides, it’s better to keep things nice and clear, right?”

“Well, you two do look alike,” said Yuigahama. “So if only one of you is here, then people wouldn’t get you guys mixed up.”

I didn’t think that was it, though. It was basically an issue of appearances. Doing this to emphasize that there is only one successor prevents unnecessary squabbles. Any apparent disputes between potential successors would most likely be to their disadvantage. Man, it’s like a samurai family.

Haruno put her finger to her cheek and breathed a small, uneasy sigh. “You know, our mother has a strong personality, and she’s scary.”

“Huh?” I said. “You mean scarier than Yukinoshita?”

“Yukino-chan? Scary?” Haruno stared at me and then burst into pleasant laughter. It was melodious in a way her previous chuckles had not been, as if she sincerely found my statement hilarious. Wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, she let out a satisfied sigh. I guess she was concerned about appearances, though, as she cleared her throat. “Geez, that’s rude, Hikigaya. She’s such a cute girl, and that’s what you think of her?” She giggled for a bit longer and then brought her face right close to mine and whispered into my ear. “Our mother is even scarier than I am.”

“…Is she human?” I asked. To be not only scarier than the younger sister, but also the elder—isn’t that a little crazy? That’s beyond a fortified armor shell; that’s basically a Gundam.

“Our mother is the type of person who will decide everything for you and then try to make you fall in line, so we have no choice but to try to compromise with her, but…Yukino-chan’s skills in that area are rather subpar.”

No, she’s beyond subpar. You need more subs to be extra clear: sub-sub-subpar.

“So I was rather surprised when she said she wanted to live alone once she started high school,” said Haruno.

“So Yukinon moved out when she started high school?” asked Yuigahama.

“Yep, yep. She wasn’t the sort of girl to make many demands, so our dad gladly gave her the apartment building.”

Man, I wonder why it is that dads of the world are easy on their daughters?

“Our mother resisted it to the bitter end, though,” Haruno continued. “She still hasn’t accepted the idea…”

“So Yukinoshita is close to your father, huh?” I said.

“Oh-ho, you have interest in your father-in-law?” Haruno joked.

“Please, we both know interest rates in Japan are at an all-time low,” I replied.

“Hmm…twelve points.”

For someone with such soft features, she sure grades hard.

“It’s not quite that they’re close. I think it’s just that our mother has a strong personality, so our father ends up being the one to patch things up.”

I guess it’s something like good cop/bad cop. Or more simply, like the carrot and the stick, I guess.

“Though both me and Yukino-chan know that, so it all evens out,” she continued.

“What a horrible pair of sisters…,” I said wearily.

But Haruno’s beautiful smile did not falter as she turned to speak to Yuigahama. “So was this a date? If so, I’m sorry for interrupting you.”

“N-no, i-it’s nothing like that,” Yuigahama stuttered.

Haruno’s gaze overlooked nothing as she surveyed Yuigahama. “Hmph… You’re acting suspiciously embarrassed. But if it was a date…” Her tone was teasing. There was a momentary pause in the fireworks, so it was dark all around us, and I couldn’t see Haruno’s eyes. But I was sure there was a glint in them, darker than the night sky.

“…yet again, she wasn’t the one.”

Fireworks roared up, crackling over Haruno’s murmur. The booms continued intermittently, and the sky flickered. The smell of gunpowder wafted toward us, carried on the wind along with the lingering afterimages of lights on the black screen of night. The fireworks occasionally illuminated Haruno’s calm smile.

“Um, did you…?” Yuigahama began to speak just as the fireworks shot up.

Haruno erupted into a particularly animated display of excitement and then spun around to face Yuigahama. “Hmm? What was that?” She grinned as if she had been so engrossed in the fireworks that she hadn’t noticed anything else.

“Uh, oh, um…it’s nothing.” Yuigahama swallowed her words, and the conversation ended there.

I could hear the brief cracking of signal guns ringing out, and then there were lights exploding and sprinkling down through the sky. Haruno clapped her hands lightly in the most innocent-looking gesture. You’d never see her younger sister doing that… I don’t know, maybe Haruno had a natural understanding of how others see that gesture, and that’s why she was doing it.

The two sisters looked alike, but at the core, they were so different. Still, it felt like they were both looking in the same direction. It was a little odd.

“Um, Yukinoshita…” I didn’t know what to call Haruno, so I just called her by her last name. I had no intention of acting familiar with her enough to call her by her first name. But when I did, Haruno smiled broadly.

“Hmm? Oh, you can call me Haruno, okay? Or Big Sis. In fact, I’d like you to call me that.”

“Ha-ha-ha…” A dry laugh slipped out of me. No way in hell. “…Yukinoshita,” I continued.

She laughed. “You’re kind of stubborn. It’s cute.”

Damn it, I really don’t like this woman… The scariest part was that she was just a little bit older. With someone as old as Miss Hiratsuka, I can compartmentalize her as a full-fledged adult and a completely different entity. But with someone who is only two or three years older, there’s a subtly different culture. “You used to go to our school, right, Yukinoshita?” I asked.

“Hmm,” she replied. “Yep, sure did. I’m three years older than you,” she said in an informal tone.

Yuigahama nodded with an interested ooh. “Then are you twenty, Yukinon’s sister?”

“Close. I’m still nineteen. My birthday is superlate in the year. Also, you can call me Haruno… ‘Yukinon’s sister’ is too long. If you want, you can call me Harunon. ”

Harunon? That sounds like a name for one of those disposable adhesive hot pads.

That brought a strained smile from Yuigahama. “S-so then, Haruno…”

The show was already shifting into the next segment. As the music blared, the fireworks launched into heart shapes and stuff, like they were going for a specific idea. The show went on, sometimes energetic, occasionally more subdued, accompanied by classical music and some songs I didn’t know at all, like some recent hits or something.

The pyrotechnicians started firing fewer shots, and it looked like they were going to slow it down for a while. Here and there I caught sight of people getting up to go to the bathroom or to go buy stuff. From where we sat in the paid area, I could hear a multitude of voices engaged in pleasant chatter. There was a light meal prepared for us on the table—just what you’d expect from VIP seating.

Yuigahama and Haruno entertained themselves with conversation as I sat sandwiched between them. “So that means you’re in university, Haruno?” asked Yuigahama.

“Yep. It’s a national tech university in the city.”

“Whoah… You must be so smart… You’re Yukinon’s big sister all right.” Yuigahama sounded surprised and impressed.

“I actually wanted to aim a little higher, but this was what my parents wanted.” Haruno’s smile was a mixture of emotions.

Mm-hmm. So if she wanted to work for the local family business, she’d have to go to a local university—was that the idea?

But man, you know…whenever I’m in a group of three or more and people are talking, it’s like a given that I’m not a part of it. I feel like I haven’t been opening my mouth at all for a while now except to eat. At times like these, the best way to get through it is focus on the food. These noodles are great, really. Yep, this sauce is indeed a boy flavor.

“So, wow, both of you are going for science, huh?” Yuigahama’s comment was brief and nonchalant.

Haruno faltered midgesture. The loud fireworks booming in the background highlighted the odd silence beside me as particularly curious. “Yeah. Yuki wants to go to a national science university…” Something in her smile was almost scornful. Maybe it was just me, since I tend to read too deeply into things when it comes to Haruno Yukinoshita. Maybe Haruno really does feel something warm toward her sister.

Yuigahama was silent, watching that smile.

“It hasn’t changed, all this time…,” said Haruno. “We always match, and she gets the hand-me-downs…” She had a nostalgic, faraway look in her eyes, and her tone was kind. But I was unsettled by how she said it.

I do have a bad habit of reading negativity into everything. But I hadn’t been the only one to pick up on it. Yuigahama’s hands were clenched into fists on her knees, and they were trembling just a little bit. “Um…”

“Yeah?”

Though Yuigahama’s expression made her misgivings clear, Haruno tilted her head in response, utterly composed.

“Do you…not get along with Yukinon?”

“Aw, of course we get along! I love Yukino-chan,” Haruno answered instantly, without even taking the time to think, and then broke into a warm smile. The reply and the expression were both perfectly timed and unfaltering. That was precisely what gave me the impression that she had foreseen that line of attack, and her response was merely a counter. Haruno uncrossed her legs, crossed them again in the other direction, and then continued, unaffected. “She’s my little sister. She’s always been chasing after me. How could she not be cute?”

Always been chasing after me, huh? Should I take that to mean Haruno has continually outdone her sister? There was cruelty in that remark, the cruelty of an absolute winner laughing at a foolish challenger, as if she were dealing with a child.

With no trace of callousness in her perfect, beautiful face, Haruno smiled at Yuigahama. “What about you, Yuigahama? Do you like her?” she inquired.

Yuigahama seemed rather taken aback by the direct question. But still, she did her best to string the words together despite her stammering. “I—I do like her! She’s cool, and sincere, and reliable, but it’s cute when she occasionally does something really stupid, and she just looks adorable when she’s sleepy… And…she’s hard to understand, but she’s nice, um, and…and…ah…ah-ha-ha. I’m really just running my mouth here.” Yuigahama was smiling shyly, the fireworks illuminating her cheeks.

“Oh?” said Haruno. “Well, that’s good to hear.” For the very briefest moment, her expression was something you could call kind. It was an odd look for her. But I should say—and as you could expect—in the next moment, those eyes turned demonic. “Everyone says that at first. Still, in the end, they’re all the same. They get jealous, they reject her, and they ostracize her… I hope you’re different.” Her smile was so pleasant and so lovely as to be lurid and terrifying.

“…I…” Overwhelmed, Yuigahama was briefly unable to speak. “…wouldn’t do that.” She did not avert her eyes, staring hard right back at Haruno.

Haruno shrugged and then glanced at me. “You understand what I’m trying to say, right, Hikigaya?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Of course I get it. I’ve seen it plenty of times already, and not just to Yukinoshita. Exceptional individuals are eliminated from any group. The nail that sticks up does not just get hammered down. It gets pulled out and thrown away. It gets ignored, exposed to the blustering elements, and then it rots away.

“Yeah, you got it. I like that look in your eyes,” said Haruno, and I turned toward her.

Our eyes met, and hers were so cold they made me shiver.

She suddenly giggled. “I really do like you. You have this weird understanding of things, and it’s made you all resigned.”

That didn’t feel like a compliment at all. The implications there were so obvious, and there was no misunderstanding her intent at all. When people make selective compliments, like when people pull out one specific thing to say they like it, you can’t trust what they’re saying. I really like your taste! and I like that. Oh, and your taste… are two completely different things. Source: me in middle school. I’m not going to fall for any descriptive trickery now.

“So what about you, Hikigaya?” Haruno asked. “Do you like Yukino-chan?”

“My mother always said to me, I don’t care if you like it or not—just eat it! So I keep my likes and dislikes to myself,” I replied.

Haruno gave me a pleasant smile.

The night wore on, and we watched the fireworks in silence. Golden curtains fell through the sky. When the shower of colored sparks decorated the final moment of the show, we sent them off with a grand applause.

“Well, it’s over. I’m going to leave before it gets too crowded.” Haruno remarked, standing up. How about you? she silently asked.

Yuigahama took the hint and followed suit, standing and turning to me. “Let’s go, too.”

“Yeah.” Just imagining being caught in the crush of people, unable to move, made every hair on my body stand on end. It was probably a good idea to follow Haruno out and leave as soon as possible.

Without any further comment, the three of us began to walk down the path by the toll section that connected to the parking lot. It looked like we could avoid the crowds if we took this way out.

When we arrived at the parking lot, a black rental limo rolled up toward us. I don’t know if Haruno had called for it or if first-class drivers are just always one step ahead when they show up, but the limo came alongside the sidewalk where we were walking.

“I can take you guys home, if you like,” Haruno offered.

“U-um…” Yuigahama glanced my way, leaving the decision to me.

I didn’t reply as I stared at the limo—at this very familiar vehicle. I doubted I was mistaken.

“You can look all you want, but you can’t see the scratches anymore.”

Haruno giggled. But neither I nor Yuigahama made so much as a twitch of a smile. I guess our silence bewildered Haruno, as her expression tightened as well. “H-huh? So Yukino-chan didn’t tell you? I guess I shouldn’t have said that.” She sounded apologetic. She didn’t seem to be lying, but still, the atmosphere was heavy.

“Then…she really…” Yuigahama’s voice was so quiet, I could barely catch it.

Even I could easily deduce the rest of that sentence. Then she really did know. Yukinoshita did know.

Our reaction must have startled Haruno, as she attempted to smooth things over. “Oh, but don’t misunderstand. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

Well, yeah…I know that. Yukinoshita has never done anything wrong. To be always right is to be Yukino Yukinoshita.

“She was just in the car. None of it was her fault. You get that, Hikigaya?” she pressed.

This was the first time I’d even heard all this, but ultimately, that changed nothing. It didn’t matter how Yukinoshita had been involved; the facts of the matter were concrete. “Yeah. Well, she’s not the one who caused the accident, so she had nothing to do with it.” My voice sounded colder than I had thought it would. It was a tropical night, but it felt as if my body temperature had plummeted.

There was a sound of tapping sandals, and I sensed a presence one step closer to me. At the silent urging, I forced myself to be a little warmer. “And it’s all in the past, anyway! Don’t look back—that’s what I always say. I mean, constantly thinking about the past is enough to convince you that life is devoid of hope…” H-hey, the chill came back at the end there! Past trauma is a force to be reckoned with.

“Oh? Well, if it’s all in the past, then all right.” Haruno made an exaggerated show of putting her hand to her chest, relief on her face. Perhaps that was why the air between us softened just a bit.

“…I’m going home, then.”

“Yeah, gotcha,” she replied, making no particular move to stop me. I was easily released.

The driver, sensing the conversation was over, came around to open the door. Haruno gave him a quiet “Thank you” and slid right into the car. “See you later then, Hikigaya.” Her wave was quite cheerful. But I didn’t really want to see her again, if possible.

The driver closed the door and quickly returned to his seat, and the car began to roll out.

Yuigahama and I set forth in silence. Perhaps we both wanted a little more time to put everything into words.

We had left the venue early, but apparently, everyone else had been thinking the exact same thing. The station was pretty crowded. The train arrived at the platform a little late, perhaps because of the fireworks show. When we got on, it was just crowded enough that we couldn’t sit down, so Yuigahama and I stood in front of the doors. It was one stop until the one nearest Yuigahama’s apartment, and three stops until mine—not that far. In less than five minutes, the announcement let us know that the train was arriving at the next station.

We had stayed entirely silent thus far, but then Yuigahama muttered just one word. “…Hey…” When I replied with a glance and a little sigh, she paused for a moment and asked, “Did Yukinon…tell you about it?” It was one of those questions where you already know the answer.

“No, she didn’t.”

“Oh… U-um…oh!” With a jolt, the train’s jostling stopped. The doors opened, and stuffy night air wafted into the train. Yuigahama looked at me and then out the doors, clearly considering what she should do. But immediately the bell rang to announce the closing doors, so she had practically no time to think or deliberate. I sighed and stepped off the train.

Yuigahama exited after me. “Are you okay getting off here?” she asked, a bit surprised.

“It wouldn’t feel right to end the conversation there, would it? Did you time that on purpose or something?”

“N-no! It was just hard to say!” Her panicked defense convinced me…

That schemer. Yuigahama is totally a schemer. “…I’ll walk you back,” I said.

“Thanks…” She murmured her gratitude.

Apparently, Yuigahama’s apartment wasn’t far from the station. But since she wasn’t used to wearing geta, she was walking a little slow. The sound of our leisurely paced footsteps punctuated the quiet night in the town. As the darkness grew deeper, a breeze swept by. Even walking around outside as we were, the heat and humidity didn’t feel so bad.

“Did you hear from her?” I asked, continuing our earlier conversation.

Yuigahama weakly shook her head. “You know, though, I think there are just some things you can’t say. When the right moment’s passed, you just can’t. I was like that, too.”

That was true. It had taken Yuigahama a whole year to mention the accident, and she had only confessed because I had found out about it.

“You think to yourself, ‘I’ll do it once I feel ready,’ ‘I just have to think a little more about it and then I’ll do it,’ and then you just keep putting it off.”

Yeah, I think I kinda understand that. It’s really easy to end up in that situation when you have to say something formal. If it’s an apology or confession of guilt, even more so. The longer you wait to say something that would be difficult to say even in the best of times, the heavier your lips feel. And sometimes there are things you can only say in the moment.

“Besides, maybe the reason Yukinon couldn’t say anything was because of family stuff. Not that I know anything about that. Haruno is just scary…”

I don’t think Yukinoshita was necessarily trying to cover for her family. It’s true that it’d be hard to describe Yukinoshita’s family environment as typical. It’s not just that they were rich and locally famous—there was her sister, and I’d only gotten glimpses of her even more bizarre mother. I figured something must be going on. But, I mean, to me it’s not the place of an outsider to say anything about their family affairs. “I don’t really think you should intrude in their domestic problems, though.”

Yuigahama hmmed and pondered my comment for a bit. “D-domestic?” She struggled with the English word. “Oh, you mean DV!”

“Don’t open your mouth when you only understand fifty percent of what you’re saying. I’ll punch you.”

“You’re gonna DV me?!”

This is not DV at all. This is just V. Visual kei.

“Well, just—just pretend you don’t know anything about the incident or her family.”

These were things Yukinoshita did not make open. Things she did not want touched should be left alone. It’s not possible for people to understand one another, and pretending like you do will only make them angry.

Sometimes, indifference is welcome. Like that one time when it was raining and I was carrying a whole bunch of stuff and I slipped and fell, or when the teacher lectured me in front of the entire class… When things like that happen, you pray, Please, let no one talk to me after this! you know? I think it’s about time everyone realized that talking to someone kindly and gently not only doesn’t help, it actively causes damage. Sometimes, sympathy and compassion can be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

“Is it best to just not know, though…?” Yuigahama seemed unconvinced, hanging her head and staring at her feet. She stopped walking, so I did the same.

“I don’t think ignorance is a bad thing. The more you know, the more trouble comes along with it.” To have information is to undertake risk. There are plenty of things you’d be better off not knowing—a prime example being what everyone is really thinking. Everyone, to a lesser or greater extent, tricks and deceives other people. That’s why the truth always hurts. The truth always shatters someone’s peace.

A few seconds passed in silence. That was how long it took for Yuigahama to arrive at her own answer. “But I’d like to know more about her, you know? I want us to learn more about each other and get closer. If she’s in trouble, I want to help her out.” She began to walk, taking the lead. “Hikki…if Yukinon is in trouble, help her out, okay?”

“…”

I couldn’t find the words to reply to that request. I could never come up with a response like Yuigahama’s, not in those few seconds, not in twice that much time, or ten times that much.

I have no desire to intrude. I never have, and I never will intrude. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” I said, encompassing many meanings at once. Yukinoshita was not going to get in trouble, she wouldn’t want help from me, and I wouldn’t intrude on her life.

Yuigahama looked up at the starry sky. Her sandals clacked as she kicked a pebble at her feet. “You’d still save her.”

“You don’t know that.”

Before I could ask her what her basis was for asserting that, Yuigahama turned to look at me. “You saved me, didn’t you?”

“I told you. That was just a coincidence. I didn’t help you knowing it was you. So I didn’t save you in particular.” That’s why even if she did feel gratitude, trust, or something more, it was all just an illusion, a misunderstanding.

If she was evaluating me based on something that anyone else—not just me—could have done, it didn’t count as a positive reflection on me. Just as you can’t judge someone to be a good person based on a single good act, it would bother me for someone to arbitrarily make any decision about my character based on one event. That was why Yuigahama’s sentimental faith in me was all wrong. “Don’t expect that kind of stuff from me.”

I would surely disappoint her. That was why I wanted her to forgo any expectations from the get-go.

Yuigahama and I walked along, maintaining a fixed distance from each other. The sounds of clip-clops and dragging feet alternated through the night. The mismatched dissonance continued on, neither of us closing that small gap of a single step.

And then suddenly, the distance shrank. Yuigahama stopped suddenly, and I pitched forward, inevitably nearing her. She spun around to face me, illuminated by the soft moonlight. “Even without the accident, you still would have saved me. And I think we would have ended up going to see the fireworks together like this, too, I think.”

“Of course not… There was nothing for me to save you from in the first place.” In life, you don’t get any what-ifs. It’s all about looking back and wondering if things had been different.

But still, Yuigahama slowly shook her head. Her eyes were moist, and I could see the streetlights reflected in the corners. “No, I think there would be. I mean, it’s like you said: Even if the accident hadn’t happened, you would have been alone. You said the accident had nothing to do with it. And I am who I am, you know? I would have eventually had some problem, and the teacher would’ve taken me to the Service Club. And then I’d meet you.”

Her wild speculation on what might have happened had an oddly realistic edge to it, so I couldn’t easily deny or refute it. Maybe if things had begun differently, then Yuigahama, Yukinoshita, and I would have built different relationships.

As I considered this, Yuigahama continued enthusiastically. “And then you’d come up with the same kind of stupid pessimistic solution all over again. I’m sure you’d save me. And…”

I heard a sound.

Maybe it came from me, or maybe it came from her. It sounded like a gulp, or perhaps the pounding of a heart. For just one moment, she was unable to speak. Curious about what she had been about to say, I raised my head, and that’s when my eyes met hers.

“And then, I just know…”

Bzz, bzz. I heard a muffled vibration. It was a phone ringing.

“Oh…” Yuigahama glanced at the drawstring coin purse in her hands but ignored her phone and attempted to continue. “I…”

“Shouldn’t you answer that?” I interrupted, preventing her.

Yuigahama looked down at the coin purse she was squeezing in her hands. But that was only for a second before she pulled it out cheerfully, lifting her head with a shy ta-ha-ha. “…It’s my mom calling. Sorry.” She excused herself, took a couple of steps away, and answered the phone. “Yeah, yeah, I’m already close to home. Yeah, that’s right. Huh? It’s okay! You don’t have to! I said I’ll be home right away!” She loudly ranted about something or other before hanging up on her mom. She gave her phone a sullen glare and then returned it to the coin purse. “I live right around here, so you don’t have to walk me the rest of the way. Thanks for coming this far… S-see you, then!”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, see you. Night.” She gave a tiny wave good-bye.

I casually raised my hand in return. “See you, then.”

Before I was even done replying, Yuigahama quickly tap-tap-tapped down the road toward her apartment. I was a little concerned that she might trip and fall on her face, but she just disappeared into a nearby apartment building, and I started walking back.

As I passed through downtown on the way home, the fervor of the festival lingered around me. Here and there I saw drunks and groups of young people hanging out and goofing around. I kept to the edge of the road to avoid them and indifferently soldiered on. With each silent step I took, the noise and tumult receded farther into the distance. Pedestrian traffic decreased, the tall buildings became sparser, and the cars were driving faster. The headlights accelerating toward me in the oncoming lane were so horribly bright, I had to stand still and look away.

But just for a moment. My averted eyes would eventually have to turn and face forward once more.