CHAPTER ONE

Popular Bad Boys Do Well in High School

A parade of students in blazers made their way down the high path that ran along the river embankment. A flurry of playful cherry blossom petals whirled and swirled in the air, coming to rest on their hair and shoulders. Beneath their blazers, they wore crisp white shirts with unfashionably long plaid skirts, or still-baggy pants meant for growing into. Stiff loafers, not yet broken in to the wearers’ feet, clattered with every footstep.

Clunk, clunk, clunk.

Scuff, scuff, scuff.

The rhythm of my feet in ripped, stained, and generally worn Stan Smith sneakers was a mismatch to the heavy clunking of brand-new school shoes.

All of a sudden, I noticed that my shoelace had come undone, so I crouched down. My Gregory-brand backpack, which had seen better days, slid sideways and made my square schoolbag swing off my shoulder.

I gazed out across the scene, feeling a stirring in my heart as I drank it all in. The gentle springtime sun. The burbling of the stream below. The new students walking beside me, heading earnestly to school in the midst of their still-unknown peers. What unbreakable friendships would form? Who would end up dating? It was all still ahead of them.

High schoolers are the center of the whole world. You see it all over media, too. Think about it. Every novel, manga, TV series, and film made these days features a high school kid as the protagonist. It’s never an elementary schooler, right? And only occasionally do you see a college student or working adult. I mean, the word youth itself is synonymous with high school. It’s like when you grow up and become an adult, you want to look back on your time in high school and get all misty-eyed about it. You want to reminisce about those slightly embarrassing yet completely precious three years.

…But that’s all just superficial.

The truth is something everyone knows. If you’re lucky, you spend your days goofing around with your buddies, getting into silly fights, then laughing it off and throwing your arms around each other’s shoulders. You confess your feelings to that girl you’ve had your eye on. You wait for her club practice to get out, and then the two of you stop by a park bench on the way home and chat. You go to the summer festival together wearing yukatas and watch the fireworks. You stroll hand in hand to a secluded corner of the shrine, and then when no one’s watching you have your first…y’know. Stuff like that. But only a few people get to experience those kinds of sickly sweet, heartburn-inducing moments. Only the ones who manage to claw their way to the top of the school hierarchy and become the elite, the few, the popular kids.

You have your popular kids and your unpopular kids.

I’ve always hated those definitions, ubiquitous though they are. Ever since those terms came about, high schoolers have cared about only one thing: Please, let me be popular. Or at the very least, not at the bottom of the heap. Please.

The entrance ceremony the little first-years were heading to was only the first round of the battle. By the time they came back along this pathway later today, they’d have a pretty good idea already of what was up. They’d know which of their peers was likely to be the life and soul of every class and which ones were destined to spend three years trying to blend into the walls. If they weren’t nervous right now, well, then they’d have to be crazy.

Don’t believe what society tells you, little first-years. Forget about who’s hot and who’s not. Forget about who’s “sociable” and who’s “anti-social.” Tell them all to go screw themselves—and just be a little stone that rolls where it wants. After a year of bumping and colliding against each other, you’ll be a nice, smooth rounded-off little pebble anyway.

In my position as a second-year student, who had already been stuck with the “popular” label by everyone, I felt more than qualified to give these little newbies some advice.

Clunk, clunk, clunk.

Scuff, scuff, scuff.

The breeze felt pleasantly warm on my cheeks as it blew away the last vestiges of the cold, depressing Hokuriku region’s winter.

Spring is the season of new beginnings. The pastel blue of the sky, the fluttering black hair and the flapping skirts of the girls, the cherry-blossom pink blush of their cheeks—it all spoke to new encounters, new romantic possibilities. As I walked toward school, I had a light spring in my step, like some sprightly old dude heading excitedly to his favorite public bathhouse owned by an old childhood friend.

You know, I keep reading and rereading this post, but I have to say it sounds like someone might have it in for me. They used my full name and everything.

I grinned wryly down at my cell phone screen. For the past few minutes, I’d been taking it out of my pocket to look at it before putting it away, and then doing it all over again.

On my phone, I had the underground school gossip site open.

It’s kind of like an anonymous forum, and each school has its own section where anyone can post anything they want. There’s a lot of posts. It was super popular for about ten years, but then it became this big “social issue” because of online bullying, so it started to die off and fall out of use.

Well, these days we have Twitter and LINE to vent our stress on. But those kinds of social media platforms come with risk. Make one wrong move, and your true identity can be uncovered just like that. So we elite students from Fukui Prefecture’s top-level Fuji High have all taken our bitching, dissing, and trash-talking back to the underground forums, and they’ve seen something of a revival recently.

Hey! I’m not about to let that one slide!

I felt my spirits sinking as I scanned all the comments that agreed with the OP. Being called a man-slut, okay, I could own up to that one. But having rumors fly around about my sexual performance… That kind of thing could really affect the self-worth of a hot stud like me.

And one more thing… The other kids getting dumped on at least got to have code names or were referred to by their initials. Why was I the only one getting outed with my real name while these fools raked me over the coals…? By the way, my real name first popped up on this site shortly after last year’s entrance ceremony, and it’s never dropped out of the yearly top keyword ranking, not even once.

Almost all the posts about me were slanderous takedowns.

Why can’t people write something nice sometimes? Like, “Chitose’s so hot! I wanna be in his arms rn!” or something?

“Good morning, Saku. Why are you just standing there like that?”

Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned to see Yua Uchida, who had been in my class last year. She was smiling, her expression reminding me of a bright, blooming sunflower.

Her long hair was pulled forward over one shoulder, fluttering slightly in the breeze. When she smiled, which was often, the corners of her eyes crinkled in this totally adorable way that could probably end all wars and bring peace to all mankind. She wasn’t exactly the undisputed beauty of the school or anything, but she was the type of girl whose name would come up on school trips when talk turned to who’s hot and who’s not.

Actually, she didn’t stand out at all at first, but as the year went by, she started to blossom out of her junior-high phase. During second semester last year, she naturally started to gravitate toward us popular kids.

“Mornin’, Yua. Check this out.”

I waved my phone in the air, and Yua came to stand shoulder to shoulder with me so she could see the screen. As she leaned in, I got a whiff of her shampoo. Smelled organic.

“Ah, that. Well, don’t worry.”

Yua grinned at me, her eyes crinkling a little as she patted me reassuringly on the back.

“…Excuse me? Is that any way to react? It’s like you’re saying, ‘Well, there’s no way to deny it, so get over it.’”

“That is what I’m saying. Look, Saku. You’re hot, and girls love you, so you’re bound to have haters. It’s all jealousy.”

Honestly, I agreed with Yua. It was pointless even trying to figure out who could be writing all the online burns about me. It could be Jock Blocker, the meathead I tangled with just before spring break started. Or it could be some rando with a grudge against me, someone who wasn’t even on my radar at all.

Just think about any famous creative…an actor, a musician, a writer, what have you. The more popularity they get, the more haters they accumulate at the same time. There are plenty of jerks out there who want to drag down successful people and expose whatever weak points they might have.

In fact, when your proportion of fans to haters is about fifty-fifty, that’s when you know you’re doing all right. The thing that really scares me is not being gossiped about at all.

“But it’s crazy! I mean, here’s a super-hot, stylish guy, gifted at sports, with top-notch grades, excellent at getting along with everyone, is super nice and is also an excellent leader—with, I might add, a real penchant for wit and dirty jokes. I’m great. Why do they hate me?”

“If you really can’t guess, I’d be happy to fill you in. But I have a feeling you already know.”

As we passed through the now-familiar school gates, we picked up our copies of the class lists being handed out. Starting in second year, the classes would be separated into sciences and humanities, and the class list would show the breakdown. Personally, I prefer the system where they post it up on the bulletin board—it’s more exciting somehow—but this way it’s easier to see what class everyone else is in, so I guess it makes more logical sense.

As she scanned the class list, Yua’s face lit up.

“Yes! We’re in the same class again. Here’s to another year together!”

“It’s not just us. The class list is basically the exact same as last year.”

“Yeah, but…you could at least act a little more excited to be in the same class with me again!”

I chuckled, shrugging off Yua’s sulking. Then I took a closer look at the list. Along with me and Yua, the main players from the popular group of last year’s Class Five were all reunited, having opted for the humanities course.

Our school has a policy of trying to keep kids together as much as possible, even when they need to separate us for the course selection.

This helps mitigate the stress that comes with an abrupt change of peers, and it helps us focus on our studies instead of trying to make new friend groups all the time. You get to stick with your buddies, and the social hierarchies remain in place. It’s a common policy with high-level, college-admission-oriented schools like ours. So it really didn’t come as too much of a surprise to me.

That said, outside of our original group, there were plenty of unknowns from other classes mixed in, too. I heard from an upperclassman once that the social sciences and humanities groups both always end up with a mishmash of students like this.

Even though they try to avoid switching us around as much as possible, because each class of students chooses their own courses, there’s a limit to what they can do on the faculty side. So some kids end up without many of their old friends where they’re placed, or no friends at all. They try to fix that to an extent by lumping them all together—with, of course, the troublemakers and the nuisance kids. Then they try to plug up the gaps by shoving in small groups of amenable popular kids who are good at getting along with everyone.

I mean, the faculty doesn’t actually admit to this, of course. But everyone talks about how the second- and third-years definitely have both “popular classes” and “loner classes.”

“And we’re still Class Five, too. Aw, I was just thinking about how those ‘Saku Chitose from Class Five’ online takedowns would soon be outdated. But for at least another year, they’ll stay current.”

“Yeah. I’m sure those anons will be thrilled they don’t have to go back and edit all their messages to say ‘Saku Chitose from Class Two’ or whatever.”

“Hey, whose side are you on anyway?”

“’Sup? Mornin’.”

I lifted a casual hand in greeting as I opened the door to Year Two, Class Five’s classroom, my voice bouncy and perky. I had no idea who I might find already in the classroom, but I had carefully tailored my greeting to fit all eventualities. It was very much a greeting meant for a brand-new class of unknown variables.

“Hey, Saku! Morning! Aaah, hey, Ucchi!”

A greeting came floating my way, cutting through the excited classroom chatter and hustle and bustle, as clear and sharp as a bird singing in the morning light. The owner of the voice was Yuuko Hiiragi, and while her greeting was rambunctious and unrefined, she had the looks of an elegant young lady, the very definition of the class princess.

Her hairstyle must have taken three times as long to arrange as Yua’s had. Her curves were in all the right places; she had that “ideal” figure that has all the guys doing a double take. You could put her in one of those all-girl pop ensembles with, like, twenty members, and she’d still stand out as one of the best. Everyone fawned and fussed over Yuuko, and she took it all in stride. She almost expected it. Kinda like how a newborn baby never thinks to question whether it’s adorable or not. And she was so natural about it that everyone gave her a free pass.

Sometimes, perfect girls do exist—and not just as the main female character in novels and manga. She transcended petty concepts like being stuck-up or arrogant and was accepted by everyone.

Incidentally, the kids at school had all pretty much decided among themselves that Yuuko and I were endgame. Or at least, that she was “first-wife” material for me.

“We’ve got Yuuko, Kazuki, Kaito… Wow, the key players are all here.”

“Hey, Yuuko. Hey, you two.”

Yua and I both returned Yuuko’s greeting and walked over to where Yuuko and the others were standing in a circle, while they naturally moved aside to make space for us.

“Yay! We’re all together again!”

Yuuko raised both hands to solicit a double high five from me. I slapped her hands with mine, then interlaced my fingers with hers.

“Are you glad, too, Saku?”

“Of course. If you and I had been separated, Yuuko, I’d have to drag myself to school every day in despair.”

Yuuko always treated me like the funny guy friend. She thought nothing of getting touchy-feely with me like this. In fact, she had probably greeted Kazuki and Kaito the exact same way only moments before.

Yuuko never even thought about things like being disliked or thought of as annoying by other people. She was very affectionate with everyone. And she didn’t just act that way with us popular guys. She acted like that with everyone, even the nerdy ones. And of course, they would get the wrong idea, actually think they had a chance with her, and then try to ask her out. She’d end up with this total ??? look on her face. It had happened way too many times to even count.

Her character being what it was, she was always walking a fine line between being loved or being despised by everyone. But she never crossed that line. Yuuko was naturally sweet and kind, and she treated everyone the same, be they popular or dorky, boy or girl. People loved that about her. That’s why she was at the top of the hierarchy, one of the most popular girls in school.

I was just contemplating the popularity of Yuuko when Yua turned a scornful eye on me.

“This guy here was really enjoying himself on the walk to school, scoping out all the new first-year girls.”

Yuuko turned to look at me, too, quickly linking arms with Yua and furrowing her brow.

“Ew, Saku, what a creeper! When you have such pretty girls like us in your grade already!”

“…You’re just jealous you didn’t have a hot guy like me from the year above you waiting to appraise your looks when it was you making that first innocent, heart-pounding walk to high school. Am I right, Yua?”

The adorable twosome giggled and rolled their eyes at me. We were having a good time—until all of a sudden, someone karate chopped me in the midsection. Ouch.

“Sorry, dude. I thought you were due a punch or two.”

The one responsible was Kaito Asano, who was grinning teasingly at me. He was already the star player of the basketball team and had barely even started second year yet. He was your typical jovial jock type with a great physique and superior sports skills.

And he was taller than me. I could only hope that male-pattern baldness was in his future.

“You gotta give it to him for the timing, though. He had to cut you off; that flirty playboy shtick was wearing thin on your charming concubines.”

Kazuki Mizushino grinned like a shark. How was he the star player of the soccer team already, when he was barely in second year? He always acted so suave, but the kid knew what he was doing.

And he was arguably better-looking than me. I could only hope an explosive diarrhea attack during class lurked in his future.

“Saku, you seem somewhat annoyed.”

…Hmph. And he was always pointing out the elephant in the room.

“It’s cool. I was just thinking about how you two are a couple of annoying bugs trying to get between me and my harem. Three’s company, but five’s a crowd, you know. And I’d cut out that ‘concubine’ business real quick unless you want to read your name on the school gossip website sometime soon.”

Everyone snorted as I snarked at Kazuki, keeping one eye on Yua.

Grinning, Kaito threw his arm around my shoulder.

“Aw, Saku. The message boards getcha again?”

“Screw you. Why do you look so happy about it?”

“Why wouldn’t I? A rogue like you who leaves girls weeping all over school… You need to suffer the consequences, or the cosmos will fall out of alignment!”

“If I’m up there with my real name, this jerk ought to be, too. That’s where the universe is off-balance.”

But Kazuki merely smirked. “Hate to break it to you, but I never leave girls crying. I simply love ’em and leave ’em wanting more.”

“Oh, spare us.”

Now that I was done verbally sparring with Kaito and Kazuki, I cleared my throat to indicate a change of subject.

“Anyway, it looks like Team Chitose is back in business.”

“I prefer Yuuko Hiiragi’s Angels.”

“Nah, Kaito’s Dynamite Bombers.”

“Kazu’s Creative Agency.”

“Yua 5.”

“Welp, time to disband! Too many creative differences!”

We all shared a fist bump to seal the deal.

“Morning!”

“Mornin’!”

The classroom door kept sliding open as we stood talking and goofing off together, and kids kept coming in all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Everyone seemed nervous, walking into a new classroom and an unfamiliar social environment.

“Hey, it’s Chitose. You grow your hair out over spring break? I can cut it for you.”

“No, thanks. Knowing you, you’ll cut a major artery by mistake.”

Haru Aomi was the girl who had offered me the haircut. She was in Class Three last year.

She had long limbs and was the shooting guard on the girls’ basketball team. She wasn’t really all that tall, but she had a model-like physique—not exactly skinny, just sort of lean and small-boned.

She didn’t fuss over her hair like Yua and Yuuko did; instead, she kept it in a short ponytail so it didn’t get in the way. She didn’t have the assets of the other two girls, but there was something about her bobbing ponytail and exposed neck that tended to catch your eye.

Kaito inserted himself into our conversation then.

“Hey! You should greet me first. We’re both on basketball teams.”

“Oh, I’ve seen enough of your face. There’s nothing exciting about it. Right, Nanase?”

“I’m sick of Kaito, too. But I’m glad Chitose and Mizushino are here. A little eye candy for once!” Yuzuki Nanase popped her head over Haru’s shoulder. She had glossy shoulder-length hair that made me think of a shampoo commercial.

She was in Class Three last year, too, the point guard on the girls’ basketball team. She and Haru were BFFs, probably known throughout the whole prefecture. But mostly for their plays on the basketball court.

If you did a poll of who was the most popular girl in our year, Nanase’s name would definitely pop up alongside Yuuko’s. If Yuuko was a pop-idol type who combined cuteness with status, then Nanase was more like an actress. She could go from playing a cute role to an absolute beauty, from friendly to aloof, from ballsy to a shrinking violet you ended up wanting to protect.

Personally, though, I had the feeling she was more calculated than Yuuko. Yuuko was oblivious to her own charms, but Nanase radiated an aura of perfection that seemed perfectly constructed. I had the feeling she was always thinking about how she was perceived at school. I could tell, because so was I.

Both girls had great figures, but where Yuuko was marshmallow-soft in all the right places, Nanase was nice and firm.

…I wasn’t talking about their chests. Get your mind out of the gutter.

Nanase was grinning now, walking up to me. “Well, now that we’ve got the hot guys all here…I guess it’s time to feast our eyes! Show us those pecs, boys!”

Kazuki and I immediately leaped into theatrics, covering our chests with our schoolbags and squealing.

“Nooo! Don’t objectify my body!”

“Women are only after one thing!”

Then Haru got in on the action. “Aw, come on, don’t be prudes, boys. Just lie back and count the stains on the ceiling tiles. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“Er, what year were you girls born in, again? Why are you acting like creepy, mustache-stroking advertising executives from the fifties?”

While the two of us were squealing and hopping about, Yua joined in the fun and provided the heckling for the two girls’ little comedy skit. She hadn’t been a member of the popular kids for that long, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at her.

“Ucchi!” Haru squealed. “Perfect, we were missing a heckler in Class Three last year! Nanase always gives up when I’m on a comedy roll. You should be my new comedy partner!”

“Ucchi, when she goes off the rails, you gotta roast her mercilessly. And me,” added Nanase.

“…Er, okay. But shall we start over? We’ve never really talked before, so we should introduce ourselves first, right, you guys?”

Yua blinked a little as she gazed at Haru and Nanase. Ah, she was really getting overwhelmed. But these were two of the most popular girls in the school; not a single kid didn’t know their name. That’s how it goes.

But the natural-born princess, Yuuko, was as cool as a cucumber.

“Yuzuki, Haru, it’s so great to be in class with you this year! I’ve always wanted to be friends with you both. But don’t forget that Saku and I are endgame! And Ucchi is his…uh, sidepiece, okay? But apart from that…sisters!!!”

Like Yua, Yuuko had never really interacted with Nanase and Haru before. In her own laid-back, bumbling way, she was trying to mark her territory. It was sort of cute. Except it was clear she had no idea what a sidepiece was.

“All that aside, it’s great to welcome two new members to Team Chitose,” I said.

Haru and Nanase didn’t miss a beat.

“I prefer Aomi’s Dangerous Challengers.”

“No, no, Yuzuki’s Moon Crusaders.”

“Ah, I had a feeling it would be this way.”

Yeah, our group was definitely going to end up consisting of the most popular members in our new class.

I looked around at the other students. Some of them I remembered seeing before. Several looked nervous. Others were talking with loud voices, and some were even glancing enviously at our group, maybe wishing they could join us. Others stared unseeing and silent at their desks or the blackboard. And there was another group who obviously hated our guts.

It was an understandable reaction to have toward us. Here we were, laughing and talking with raised voices, all buddy-buddy so soon into a change of class. I could understand a few dirty looks.

Sorry, but that’s just how we are.

I know I was a little self-aware, and I think Kazuki and Nanase were, too. But it wasn’t like we were trying to show off or flaunt the new additions to our group. Hey, everyone, look at us! We’re so popular!

No, we were just happy we were in the same class again with friends. Just old buddies, goofing off.

I swear, that’s all we were doing.

But considering how many people don’t get to enjoy high school the way we do, it was perhaps no surprise that they were always painting me as an obnoxious popular kid with zero self-awareness and dissing me online by my real name.

The unpopular kids, the losers, and the otaku, they stereotype us just as much as anyone else. Popular kids are all like this; they should be more like that; they’re all style and no substance; they’re a bunch of assholes who think they’re better than us.

I guess that’s why it’s obvious that the teachers try to keep the popular kids together. Like together with like, you know? Let the kids be with other kids who they’re most likely to be friends with. And fill the gaps with the ones who won’t get along with anyone. Maybe they could even learn a thing or two from us popular kids. Maybe our coolness will round off some of their idiosyncratic edges. And everyone can relax and focus on studying, without any discord in the pecking order.

Anyway, the status quo suits Saku Chitose just fine.

Death is better than an unbeautiful life. That’s my philosophy. And by beautiful, I mean a life where I’m cool and attractive and have tons of girls fussing over me.

“All right, take your seats, everyone.”

Suddenly, there came a languid, slightly irritated voice from the front of the class. Not really the kind of fresh attitude you expect on the first day of school, now, is it?

Once everyone realized that our homeroom teacher had entered the room, they scampered to their desks. He didn’t even really need to tell us—maybe the guy was just saving his energy. Anyway, we’re one of the top schools in the prefecture, so it’s not like we take all that long to settle down and listen, unlike some schools.

“I’m Kuranosuke Iwanami, homeroom teacher for Year Two, Class Five. Let’s get straight down to it and make it through another year, all right?”

He had residual bedhead, which he clearly hadn’t bothered to comb and gel down, and stubble. He was also wearing a shabby suit and an old pair of straw-soled thong sandals.

This fellow, who looked like some madcap artist who had retreated into his craft and turned his back on the human world, was also our homeroom teacher last year. His particular subject of expertise was the Japanese language.

He was kind of a slob, but he was pretty well-liked as a teacher. Every class he taught for Japanese language got the best grades. At a school like ours, which has plenty of top-notch teachers, his laid-back, “meh” sort of attitude toward class endeared him to his students. We even called him Kura.

“Aw yisss! We got Kura for homeroom! I was just saying I hoped we would!”

Since we were all seated alphabetically by surname, Haru was at the desk next to mine. Now she was grinning at me. I could smell something sweet, probably scented body spray she’d put on after morning club practice. It made me feel restless for some reason.

“Yeah, you guys had Miss Misaki last year for homeroom, right? Man, she sucks. Every time she sees me in the halls, she tells me to tighten my tie up. She’s hot, but she’s got a mean stare.”

“A lot of guys like her and her stare. Not you, Chitose?”

“Hmm… Nah, I don’t like that type. Too many pheromones. Too much of a hard-ass. I much prefer laid-back women like you, Haru. You’re easy to talk to.”

“…What? I sure hope you’re not trying to hit on me this soon into the semester. Please don’t; it’s very tacky.”

“Yikes. Sorry. I got confused and thought I was talking to a girl just then.”

“Yeah, big mistake. Come see me after school, behind the old building.”

“I give you points for the classy choice of venue, Milady. The standard option for an impromptu brawl is usually the men’s toilets.”

I got to know Haru last year through Kaito. She had this kind of refreshing, sporty girl vibe. And she was easy to hang with. You could treat her like one of the guys. She was a real bro.

“You know, I think Miss Misaki is a pretty good teacher, though. A lot of students like her. But I guess you’re right about her being kind of a hard-ass. Kura, though, he seems totally laid-back.”

“Yes, he’s as loosely wound as his tie.”

“I see it, I see it. Man, I hate a tight tie, especially after getting all sweaty during club practice.”

Haru fiddled with the neck of her shirt, flapping it to get some air inside.

What a naughty girl. But she did it so innocently. I said she was a bro, one of the guys, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t have feminine appeal. In fact, it was often kind of distracting.

“You could wear a neck ribbon instead of a tie. That’s less constricting.”

“Dearest, can you really see me with a ribbon?”

“Hmm…”

“I know my image, but I’m not a fan of hearing people point it out; you know what I’m saying?”

“…Okay, I prefer you in the tie, Haru. We cool?”

“Ah, Chitose, the light is glinting off your hair like a halo. Like a basketball hoop, so tempting…”

“Don’t dunk me!”

Miss Misaki aside, the Fuji High faculty were actually pretty chill for an elite school. We were allowed to straighten or perm our hair, experiment with different hairstyles, and personalize our uniforms to a limited extent. We could even check our phones in class as long as we were subtle about it. A lot of the teachers, Kura included, also allowed us to take pics of the blackboard for later reference.

You have to be pretty smart to get into this school in the first place. The teachers don’t want us all having mental breakdowns and going neurotic over college entrance exams, so that’s probably why they give us a lot of breathing room.

“All right, we need to decide on the class president and vice president, and determine the seating order. Well, Mr. Chitose, can you take over? And try not to suck-u, Saku.”

I was so distracted thinking about the contrast between Haru’s sporty style and femininity that I barely even noticed Kura calling my name. Of course I was the one he called on to do the grunt work. As usual.

Haru poked my elbow. “Chitose, you’ve been nominated. Even got a lame Dad joke, too.”

“All right, all right.”

I had learned in the past year that there was no point trying to worm out of Kura’s requests.

Besides, ol’ Kura never gave anyone more homework than they could handle or more class duties than they could cope with. But he vacillated in a range between “They could do this easily” and “This would be a real stretch.” On this occasion, the first category applied to me. Any complaining would be met with a languid “Just get on with it” from Kura.

Still, it wasn’t like Kura to be this lax on the first day of a new school year, in front of students he hadn’t even met yet. Eh, I wasn’t going to dwell too heavily on it.

I headed on up to stand behind the teacher’s lectern.

Then I cleared my throat.

“Uh… So… I guess everyone in second year knows my name already, but just in case…”

I started off arrogant, plucking at the lapels of my blazer in a cool way. Then I gave the kids a sharp nod.

“I’m Mr. Iwanami’s personal maid, apparently. The name’s Saku Chitose. You may know me from certain websites as a man-slut and/or a shithead. ”

They all grinned, first the girls and then the guys. Their reaction told me they had all read the BS on the underground website.

“Tch.”

“…Lame.”

As I looked more closely, I could see that several of the smiles were sarcastic. Probably the same students who were giving me the evil eye just before.

Still, it was the first day, so I decided to try to appease them a little. I flicked my gaze over to Kazuki.

“All right then, everyone close your eyes. Now, will the person or persons who have been writing such libelous things about me online raise their hand?”

…

“All right, all right, I see. You can open your eyes. Kazuki, we’re going to have to settle this like men later.”

“I’m sorry. It was only a prank. I was trying to cheer up my sick mother.”

“The heck? Show her a funny rom-com, then! Incidentally, I saw your mom riding her bicycle the other day—she’s smokin’ hot, by the way—and she didn’t look sick at all!”

“Listen, Saku… I mean, Saku Man-Slooten…”

“What’s with the weird Dutch-sounding nickname?!”

“Tsk, tsk, what would my mother think?”

“Yeah, because of you!”

The tense atmosphere in the class dissipated, and now everyone was grinning.

It was calculated, yes, but I wasn’t trying to one-up my fellow students. I just wanted to get along with everyone and have myself a nice time in high school. To that end, I needed to make it difficult for people to ruin the fun with name-calling and negativity.

Even the dissenters had settled down now, although their lips were still pressed together in tight lines.

“Anyway, jokes aside, let’s all get along and make some new friends this year, yeah? Okay, so for the class president and vice president, does anyone have any nominations?”

Kaito piped up right away. “After that introduction, nobody’s gonna wanna take over! You do it, Saku. You were class president last year, after all.”

Nanase and Haru backed him up.

“Eh, sure. He can’t be any worse than anyone else.”

“It’s just a title, after all.”

And…decided in ten seconds.

Eh, but I was kinda expecting this after setting the mood for the class just then. Still, it wasn’t an unfavorable outcome for me.

My bad to any idealistic students who were planning to shake things up this year by becoming new class prez and changing everything, though. If any such person did speak up, then sure, I’d concede. But I’d have to warn them… Change doesn’t go down too well in the second year of high school. Being class prez isn’t a whole lot of work, but you do have to watch out for the haters, like that group earlier. And you have to be aware of the needs of not just the popular kids, but the losers and the loners, too. Yeah, you’ve got to be able to make shrewd decisions and then carry them out, for the good of everyone.

“Any other nominations? No? Okay. Then I’ll do it. From today forth, I hereby claim you all as my subjects.”

I put one hand on my hip and struck a humorously arrogant pose.

“Big talk for Teacher’s Personal Maid,” Haru quipped.

“Oh dear, I do apologize! I look forward to serving you all to the best of my ability!”

Several of the girls cracked up at this. “Too funny!” one gasped.

“Okay, now to choose the vice president. Any nominations?”

This would be another five-seconder; I just knew it.

“Me, me, me! If Saku’s gonna be president, I just gotta be vice president!!!”

As expected, before I even finished talking, Yuuko had her hand in the air. No surprises there.

“Er, as I recall, the vice president last year goofed off a lot and pushed all the work onto the president. If I’m not crazy, I have a feeling she looked an awful lot like…you.”

“It’s cool; it’s cool! I took great care of the class bunny and class turtle in elementary school! I got this!”

“…Excuse me; I am not a class pet.”

Nobody voiced any opposition to Yuuko as vice prez.

“Thanks, everyone! I’ll be your new class vice president, Yuuko Hiiragi!”

Waving, she trotted up to join me at the lectern without even bothering to look at the class to see if they were cool with this. That’s just how she was. It blew me away how she could act so chill without needing to scheme about stuff. Unlike me.

“All right, now let’s decide the class order. Any ideas?”

Beside me, Yuuko shot her hand up into the air again.

“We should all be able to sit with the guy or girl we have a crush on!”

“No, thanks! I’ll never be able to study if I’m surrounded by a harem of hotties.”

Er, Yuuko? This is a class of mostly popular kids, remember? (And a few loners.) Better not force everyone to sound each other out just yet.

“We should arm wrestle. Winners get to choose where they sit.”

“Kaito, please. The grown-ups are talking.”

“We should be seated based on last year’s grades.”

“Kazuki, please. I really think your contribution to this discussion should be silence. Although… Let’s talk about your grades last year…”

“I want to sit at the back so I can snooze during class!”

“I appreciate the candor, Haru. But I really think your seat should be right under the teacher’s nose.”

“I like that logic. Put me in the back, too.”

“If we’re going by number of personality flaws, I think you and Kazuki ought to be seated first, Nanase!”

“We should just draw paper slips and make it fair.”

“Now, now, Yua… Don’t spoil the fun with logic.”

“Wait, why am I getting chewed out?”

I heaved a huge, put-upon sigh before casting my gaze over the class. Then I suggested the immediately obvious choice.

“Okay, kiddos. Since we can’t agree, I’m going to exercise my presidential authority. Now as I look at you all sitting here so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I think to myself, Ah yes, how fresh, how befitting the new school year this setup is! So I propose we stay seated alphabetically. What say you?”

I waited for a few seconds, but since there was no opposition, I continued.

“Anyone with any issues, come talk to me. Issues may include but are not limited to ‘I can’t see the blackboard because my eyes are bad,’ ‘Kaito’s big head is blocking my view,’ ‘Kazuki keeps staring at me, and it’s making me uncomfortable,’ and so on and so forth. We’ll take it on a case-by-case basis. Okay?”

I was well aware of the fact that only the popular kids had been contributing to the discussion so far. The others probably felt too afraid to.

Those who ended up seated at the front by alphabetical order may have had their grievances, but it was also easier to see the board from up there. It wasn’t worth coming to the class president and complaining. And since I’d chosen alphabetical order, no one could accuse me of prioritizing the popular kids. My plan was calculated to avoid as much class discord as possible.

“All right, so everyone seems to be on board. Then let’s stay seated like this for second year. I look forward to serving you all as class president.”

“Wow, what a lame ending. What happened to the humor?”

“…Ah, I’ll also agree to seating changes if the sight of Kura puts you off your schoolwork, ha-ha-ha!”

Since it was the first day of school, and we had the opening ceremony and all, we didn’t have any classes beyond homeroom. Half the kids headed off to club activities, and the other half headed home. Kaito, Haru, and Yuuko had tennis club; Yua had band practice—all my buddies had clubs to go to. I was the only one with a wide-open afternoon stretching out in front of me.

I bought a can of coffee from the vending machine and made my way up to the school roof, slippers slapping on the steps. I could hear the band’s trumpets somewhere far-off. I could hear the shouts of the soccer club, warming up by running laps. The rubbery bounce of the basketball club’s balls and the squeaking of their sneakers. And the dull thwacks of the baseball team’s mitts coming into contact with the hard baseballs. As I listened idly to all these typical after-school sounds, I was overcome with a sense of melancholy.

I opened the roof door and was met with the sight of the railings towering over me, fencing in a square of blue overhead. The sky was so blue it felt almost oppressive, so vast it made me feel suffocated. And there were tiny puffs of gray, lighter than clouds, floating just above the railings. I headed over there to see a familiar face I’d rather not have encountered.

“Ah, hello, hello.”

Kura was leaning up against the housing unit of the water tank, enjoying himself a cigarette.

“I thought this school was nonsmoking anywhere on the premises?”

I made my way up the little ladder and sat myself down beside Kura.

“Just another silly rule invented by the education board to keep up appearances. As long as I don’t blow smoke on the kids, who cares?”

“And who am I, then, if not one of said kids?”

“You’re the one who’s smart enough to figure out which is the better option between tattling on me to the other teachers or having free use of the spare key to the rooftop. That’s who.”

“Well, thanks for the compliment.”

Like most high schools in Japan, our school frowns upon kids coming and going on the rooftop as they please. Essentially, it’s forbidden. Still, you can sometimes get permission from Kura, the Keeper of the Key, to eat bento lunches here with your buddies. But you have to ask in advance, and it’s kind of a hassle, so most people don’t bother.

Me, though? Well, Kura appointed me Roof-Cleaning Officer, a totally made-up role, so I get to come up here whenever I want, without having to ask anybody. It’s pretty sweet.

“Aren’t you ashamed to be a smoker in this day and age, though? Society is trying to stamp out your kind, you know.”

“Eh, people are just looking for an easy scapegoat.”

“You’re telling me.”

I popped the tab on my can of coffee, thinking bitterly about the school gossip website.

“Well, it’s true that secondhand smoke affects the health of others. And if someone tells me they don’t like the smell, well, I can’t really argue against that. It’s the self-righteous jerks I can’t stand. They just want to sling mud at others. It’s the same anywhere in society, from school to the workplace. It’s like a modern-day witch trial. They’ll burn you at the stake no matter what you say.”

Kura was spitting some feisty words here, but all the while, he continued to placidly blow smoke rings.

“Yeah, it’s the ones who sling mud without even stopping to consider if they’re right or wrong that I can’t stand. You kids grow up to be adults like that, and I’ll have failed in my duty as a shaper of young minds.”

“I so agree. Spot me one?”

I held out my hand for a cigarette—not seriously, of course. Kura smacked it away lightly.

“Don’t push it, kiddo. If I end up jobless on the street, it’ll be on your head.”

“You’re an excellent example to us all why adults shouldn’t be trusted, Kura.”

“Oh, go stick your head down the blouses of Hiiragi or Nanase like a good horny high schooler, would ya?”

“Now, now, that’s no way for an educator to talk, even in jest.”

I took a delicate sip of my coffee.

“…So whaddaya want, Teach?”

As homeroom ended, Kura had told me to meet him at “the usual place.”

“So you’re class prez, right?”

Kura pulled a crumpled packet of Lucky Strike out of his breast pocket and lit up his second cigarette in a row.

“Oh, whoops, I just realized I’m late for practice…”

Sensing danger afoot, I tried to get to my feet so I could beat it. But Kura grabbed me by the shoulder and yanked me back down. He was skinny as a stick but plenty powerful enough. I sat myself down obediently.

“Listen, Chitose… Don’t you think it’s better for the class to be all together? No one left behind, and all that?”

“Ah yes, depending on the charms of the homeroom teacher, I think that’s the best way to be…”

I had noticed there was an empty desk in the back of the classroom. I figured the kid was maybe out sick, but I guess not.

“We were missing a student today, the first day of Year Two, Class Five, right? His name’s Kenta Yamazaki. Last year he was in Year One, Class One. He wasn’t a star student or anything, but he got decent grades and had a couple friends. But beginning in third semester, he started having absences, and soon he stopped coming altogether.”

I’d never heard that name before. No-shows were kind of a rarity in our school. Attendance was pretty solid, generally speaking.

I don’t know how it is in other schools, but most students at Fuji High plan to go to college. That’s why they take the exam for Fuji in the first place, since it’s a college prep school. Our student body consists of mostly smart kids. And yeah, there are some jerks who write shit about people on underground school gossip websites, and sometimes they try to outdo each other when it comes to test scores (the stress buildup can get ugly), but basically bullying isn’t an issue here. Sometimes students who only scraped by on the entrance exam end up dropping out because they just can’t keep up, but this didn’t sound like that sort of situation.

I shrugged. “So why’d he stop coming?”

“His previous homeroom teacher visited his family home several times but wasn’t able to speak to Yamazaki directly. Asking his friends didn’t turn up much, either; they weren’t that close with him. They only hung out because of shared interests.”

“I see. So now you get to show off your skills as an educator.”

“Anyway, that’s all the information I have right now. The shared interests in question, incidentally, are anime and light novels. That whole genre, you know.”

“Er, that’s nice and all, but I get the sense we’re talking past each other. Conversation is a game of catch, you know.”

Kura pretended not to hear me. I heaved an exaggerated sigh. Then I continued, a little more seriously than before.

“All right, I’ll bite… Why are you talking to me about this?”

“You’re class president, Chitose. Class president is a position of responsibility, with a duty of care to their fellow classmates…”

“Yikes. It’s just symbolic, though, isn’t it?”

“I thought you were my maid, Chitose.”

“Aw, screw you.”

Kura had me trapped. I figured he’d deliberately had me take over as class president so he could stick me with this conundrum right after. There was no limit to the stuff he could make me do, using the “class president” angle as leverage.

“Only kids know what other kids go through at school. Like adults are the only ones who know what other adults have to deal with. Do you have any idea why a catch like me is still single past the age of thirty, hmm? Do you have any idea why I have to spend the majority of my meager teacher’s salary down at the local titty parlor, Don’t Make Me Take Off My Blazer? Well, do you?”

“Okay, well, now I know you’re a total failure as a man, not just as a teacher! …Tch. So you want me to go and convince this Kenta Yamazaki kid to come back to school, right? Why didn’t you just ask Yuuko?”

“Hiiragi doesn’t have the subtlety needed for something like this. She’d charge in without knowing all the details and end up driving the kid even farther into his shell. You’re better at analyzing a situation and acting accordingly.”

“In other words, you know I don’t even have the option of saying no, huh?”

“So here’s an issue that a kid of your skills could easily solve, but you’re just going to turn your back? I thought you were more capable than that, Chitose. Everyone’s superhero.”

Kura gave me a grin loaded with meaning.

Tch. This unshaven old dude was such a pain to deal with.

What’s that saying? Don’t chase what eludes you; don’t reject what comes to you. I didn’t usually go out of my way to help others, but in a situation like this where I’ve been asked specifically, I found myself wanting to do a good job. To swoop in there and tie this problem up in a nice, neat bow and get credit for a job well done.

After all, I have appearances to keep up. If I want to keep my life running smoothly, I have to be the Saku Chitose everyone wants to believe I really am.

“You’ll let me handle this my way, right? And I want proper compensation for my troubles.”

“Oh yeah? You want me to bring you along to the titty bar, too?”

“No need. I know plenty of cute girls who are more than willing to ‘take off their blazer’ for free.”

“…You know anyone into older guys?”

“You are so gross…”

I found myself back once again on the river embankment path from this morning. But this time, I was walking in the opposite direction.

There’re a lot of paths and roads to take to school, but I like this embankment path. The riverbed’s around twenty meters in width, flanked on both sides by an assortment of old and new houses. And I enjoy the symmetry of the electricity pylons standing at neat intervals with cables strung tight between them. And then there’s the view of the mountains in the background. No cars, either, so it’s a good place for a casual stroll. Lots of feral cats, too, basking in the sun and yawning without a care in the world.

As the sight of homeward-bound students became sparser and sparser, I spotted someone sitting beside the sluice gate. Walking with careful, quiet steps, I headed down the little slope meant for accessing the gate. I didn’t want to disturb her peace. She was radiating such an aura of stillness.

I spoke up, hoping my voice would be no more jarring than the soft trickling sounds of the river’s water.

“Hey, Asuka.”

She lifted her face from the paperback book she was reading and fixed her eyes on me. Then, the upperclassman Asuka Nishino responded, in a voice as dismissive as a cool spring breeze:

“Ah, it’s you. I had a feeling I’d see you today.”

The late afternoon sun made the downy hair on her cheek seem to almost glisten, and her eyes crinkled into a smile, making the small mole underneath her left eye rise. That expression drew me in as she raised a hand in greeting. She was both curvaceous and delicately built, and she wore her tie tight around her collar. Her skirt was in that modest gray zone between short and long. Her understated, muted beauty struck me all of a sudden in that moment.

“What are you reading?” I asked.

“It’s Phantom Lady by Cornell Woolrich.”

“‘The night was young, and so was he. But the night was sweet, and he was sour.’ That’s the new edition, isn’t it? I like that opening passage better than anything in any other novel I’ve read.”

“…Of course you’ve read it. Man, you’re annoying.”

I had first met Asuka in September of last year. I quit baseball club over summer break, and I was heading home along the embankment, not sure what to do with myself.

“Hey! He’s getting away!”

“Let’s chase him!”

Scuff, scuff, scuff. Clomp, clomp, clomp.

A little ways ahead, I could see a bunch of kids playing together and having themselves a good old time. They seemed to be playing a game of samurai. The three of them were running at top speed, carrying “swords,” aka loose branches they’d picked up somewhere. And they were chasing a fourth kid. The fleeing kid also had a branch-sword, but he didn’t seem willing to use it. He must have been the weak link in that little group.

I watched them for a while, and then the kid who was being chased ended up slipping and falling into the river. The flow was pretty light there, so there was no real danger of the kid drowning or anything. But the embankment was steep, and a kid his size would have a lot of trouble climbing out by himself.

“Loser!”

“Ew! You’re covered in mud and river goo! You stay far away from us on the walk home, got it?”

The kid’s three “friends” were jeering at him as they peered down the embankment. None of them seemed willing to lend him a hand.

There were other students about, heading home from school, but they seemed to be ignoring the scene on purpose. Some of them even visibly picked up speed in an effort to hurry past.

Probably it was just friends roughhousing and not genuine bullying. But I figured the least I could do was scoop the tearful-looking kid out of the river, lend him a towel, give his friends a gentle scolding, and admonish them to go easier next time.

Now that I’d noticed it, I couldn’t just look the other way and walk past. It would be lame.

Just as I was about to step in…

“Hey, guys, let me play, too!”

With a splash, a teenage girl appeared, plunging down the hill into the river.

I blinked, trying to process the new development in the situation. I was just standing there open-mouthed, staring at her.

Ignoring the gawking boys, the girl began splashing the fallen boy with river water in a playful manner. I clocked her school uniform immediately. She was one of ours.

“Hey, come on! Splash back!”

The students who had been ignoring the scene just before had now stopped and were gawking down at the girl with their noses wrinkled. Some of them were whispering to each other and smirking. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was obvious they were talking about how the girl must have a few screws loose.

I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t thinking the same thing. It was definitely a very odd, illogical scene. The river wasn’t dirty and stinky or anything, but it still wasn’t exactly the kind of place you’d want to splash around in, either. You had to expect to end up covered in mud if you started playing down there.

But the girl didn’t seem to pay any attention to the state of her uniform or the stares of the onlookers. She just kept splashing the kid.

Her smile was so bright and beaming that the kid soon seemed to shrug off the weirdness of the situation and began splashing her back.

“Come on and join us, you guys!”

The girl called out to the other three kids who were still standing on the embankment. At first, they seemed weirded out, but the girl’s exuberance seemed to take hold of them, too. They exchanged shrugs and flung themselves down the slope into the river.

“Hey, lady, you are seriously bonkers.”

“Splash battle! Splash battle!”

“Hee-hee! You’ll never win against me! I’ve got years of splash battle experience on you! Hey! Little squirt! Why are you sneaking up behind me? That’s a dirty move! And just after I helped you!”

“You didn’t help me. You just started splashing me.”

Now the bullied kid was ganging up with his so-called friends against the girl.

“Don’t let her get away!”

“Get her!”

Tromp, tromp, tromp. Sploosh, sploosh, sploosh.

They began a game of tag, right there in the river. It was the same kind of game as before, but this time, instead of yelling, they were all laughing together.

…What the heck was going on?

After they had all played in the river for a good amount of time, they made their way back up the bank.

That’s when I finally stepped in and offered my sports towel. The four kids shared it, wiping off their faces one by one. Then they called “You’re a weird lady, ya know that?” and all ran off together, shoulder to shoulder, soaked T-shirts clinging to their backs.

The girl watched them go, then slowly turned to look at me. Her school blazer, hair, face, everything, was dripping wet. Her blouse had gone see-through, and I could make out the camisole she wore underneath. But I couldn’t really appreciate the sensuality of it under the current circumstances. I checked out her blazer crest and saw she was in second year.

“Enchanted by the lady of the lake? Well, river.”

“Uh, no. I was just thinking you look like the ghost of someone who drowned at sea.”

“Seriously?”

But the girl laughed loudly with amusement.

“Aw, man, I need to get this uniform dry-cleaned. Hey, you—you got any extra gym clothes in your bag or anything? I didn’t have gym class today.”

The girl blinked at me as she tried in vain to rub her hair dry with my towel, which was already completely saturated after the four boys had used it.

“I do, but they’re pretty sweaty. They don’t smell so fresh.”

I handed her my gym bag, and she stuck her face right in there and began sniffing.

“Aw, man, that reeks! It’s like someone used a dishcloth to mop up spilled milk at an elementary school.”

“Hey now, it’s not that bad. You want me to shove you back into the river?”

“I was only messing with you. It smells nice actually, like fabric softener. Can I borrow this? I swear I’ll wash it and give it back to you. I’ll just head back to school, change, and then walk home. If I walk around at dusk dripping and muddy like this, people will start calling the local priest.”

But the girl herself didn’t seem all that concerned about the fact that she was wet and muddy.

“Sure, but can I ask you one question?”

“Ye-es?”

“Why did you do that? A normal person would have scooped the kid out of the river and given his friends a lecture. I mean, I was just about to do that myself until you showed up.”

The girl rubbed her chin. “Hmm,” she said pensively. It seemed she’d acted on instinct and hadn’t really thought it through beforehand.

“Well, I was kinda thinking about how it would suck for that kid to be the only one having to walk home wet and muddy. If everyone got in and splashed around, then they would all be in the same boat, and they could head home as friends. That would be much better in my opinion.”

“Yeah, but you ended up wet and muddy, too. You weren’t even part of the situation until you inserted yourself in it. And all the kids walking home were laughing at you.”

The girl smiled, looking me in the eyes. For some strange reason, I had the feeling she was seeing right into my mind.

“I’m not sure why something like that is supposed to bother me, but okay…”

Her gentle smile became a challenging grin.

“If I cared what people thought, I wouldn’t fling myself into a river like that in the first place, right? Anyway, I just thought it seemed like fun… So what you’re saying to me now is, like, irrelevant.”

I had no idea how to respond.

Most normal human beings factor in other people’s perceptions before doing, well, anything.

I mean, I was planning to help the kid out, but in a way that would make me look like a hero. Then people would be like, “Wow, what a good guy.” Otherwise, I guess I wouldn’t have done it.

But this crazy girl was standing here saying she did it because it “seemed like fun.”

It was almost like she accepted herself or something. Like she was exactly where she was meant to be in the world, and she only had to answer to herself.

And in the act of being herself, she’d solved the situation for the kid in a way that was going to benefit him much more than what I’d planned to do.

“Can I ask one more?”

“Sure.”

The girl was wringing out the towel, seeming totally unbothered by anything I may have had to say.

“What’s your name?”

“Asuka Nishino. You write Asuka with the characters for tomorrow and breeze.”

Silhouetted against the deep-red setting sun, the girl gave me a soft smile.

In that moment, she seemed so beautiful. The wet hair stuck to her cheek? Beautiful. The brown smudge of mud on her nose? Beautiful. She had taken off her shoes and socks, and I could see her bare toes. They were beautiful, too.

A soft, late summer breeze swept across us both.

After this, I would be looking out for her at school—and on the path home.

Tomorrow. Breeze.

The name suited her. This girl who lived free, by her own rules. It suited her perfectly.

“So I’m class president again, and Kura wasted no time in forcing me to do something for him.”

I had plopped down next to Asuka, and now I was telling her all about Kenta Yamazaki.

“You’re imperfectly perfect, as always. Like a spotless park you’re not allowed to set off fireworks in.”

“That’s a weird comparison. Anyway, everyone prefers a nice tidy park, don’t they?”

“But the park prohibits ball games and dog walking, too. No play equipment, either, in case kids get hurt. So no kids around. Just stone-faced adults, reading books like a bunch of statues.”

“…Yeah, it sounds super boring.”

“Then change the rules if you think that. Then the pretty park will become a fun place to play.”

“It’s difficult to change the rules once they’ve been established.”

“Is it? All you have to do is pull down the signposts telling people not to do stuff. Boom, done.”

“We live in a litigious society. If anything happens, you’ll have a lawsuit on your hands.”

Asuka closed her book and stashed it in her schoolbag. Then she got to her feet with a “Hup!” before gazing at the river for a few moments. After that, she turned to look back at me.

“Here’s a question. If the girl you’re closest to in your class and I were both drowning—like in the ocean or a big lake—which one of us would you save? You get a kayak in this scenario. A bright-red one. But the kayak only seats two.”

“The second person could just cling onto the back of the kayak.”

“No, no, the water is infested with piranhas and crocodiles.” Asuka wagged her finger in my face like she was telling off a small child.

“I dunno if I’d be able to even row in such dangerous waters.”

Asuka continued, as if I hadn’t even said anything.

“I’d save you. No contest. Even if it was between my favorite guy in my class and you. I like you more, you see.”

“So what happens to the Favorite Guy in Your Class, then?”

I turned the question back around on her, my heart pounding all of a sudden. Still, I knew she wasn’t using the word like in the romantic sense.

“I’ll pray for his soul. I’ll pray that the piranhas and crocodiles eat him up quickly. It must hurt a lot to be nibbled to death by piranhas, don’t you think?”

Asuka clasped her hands together in prayer, her eyes unfocused as if seeing the scenario play out in her mind.

“But if it was between you and a cat, I’d save the kitty, of course!”

“I’ll hold the cat. I swear. Let me on the kayak!”

“…I bet you wouldn’t bother saving anyone. You’d just paddle off by yourself.” Asuka crouched down in front of me, hugging her knees and gazing at me.

“No, I’d give up the kayak to you two. I’d swim and take my chances. That’s the most beautiful choice. That’s what I’d want to believe.”

“Yeah, right. You’d be squealing, ‘Don’t let the piranhas get me!’”

“No, I’d accept my fate. While the fishies were nibbling on my toes and earlobes.”

“Geez, they’re going right for the places that hurt, huh?”

Her comment had wounded me a little, so I’d just been trying to laugh it off. I often had the feeling that she made no attempt to filter herself around me and just said whatever she wanted.

“…Yep, that’s Saku Chitose.”

See what I mean?

Asuka scooped her bag up from its spot beside me and shouldered it. I wanted to keep talking, but it looked like she was done for now.

“So why’d you bring up the kayak scenario anyhow?”

“There’s no real reason. It just came to me. If you insist on being the hero, then fine. Go sleep with the fishies. But if you make it back…we’ll have a duel.”

“You’d fight a man with piranhas dangling from his body? Maybe I’m just extra-tasty bait.”

That evening, I was lying on my bed scrolling on my phone.

I’d been in various LINE app friend groups since Year One, but today I had a bunch of messages from girls I’d met in my new class and swapped LINE IDs with.

I went down the list, sick of the same old boring group chats. Sending basic responses. I put a little more effort into responding to the girls I wanted to get to know better. It was like going through veggies at the grocery store, picking out the tastier-looking ones, and tossing the rest back.

Relationships with other kids can be complicated when you’re popular. You have to know where to draw the line. Other kids approach you freely, either because they like you or because they hate you, and you have to decide how and when to cut them off. Sometimes you get caught up in a trap. It’s like walking across a minefield. You can never let your guard down.

And once you put on the “good guy” mask, you have to keep it on right up until graduation.

About thirty minutes later, I finished dealing with my personal correspondence. Then I could finally open the messages from my actual friends.

First was Kaito’s.

Kaito was such a dork. And fast to text back. Entirely too fast.

Kazuki’s message was simple.

Yuuko’s message was littered with emoji.

Nanase’s message was interesting, very interesting, indeed.

For some reason, Haru’s message was just a super-close-up photo of a hot dog on a stick.

All right, that’s enough of that.

Putting my phone down on the bedside table, I headed out onto my balcony. The moon was a perfect circle in the sky, like it had been drawn using a compass.

The air outside was still pretty warm despite the late hour, and it smelled of spring. I felt restless. For some reason, ever since I was young, I’ve always felt like a full moon heralds the coming of something new.

It was a late country night. All the people you’d see walking along would be tucked in bed by now. No cars running, either. It was ten o’clock, after all. Half the people in town were probably already asleep. The others were probably getting ready for bed. As I stood there in this air pocket of empty time, weird thoughts started coming to me.

Did I really exist in this town? What if I was a character in some fictional place, just playing out the role that was written for me? What if I burst and disappeared tomorrow, like a bubble? Would I leave any lasting marks on anyone? What would remain of my pain, my sadness, my loneliness? Would it even matter?

This pathetic little town, this pathetic little high school…and all the pathetic little popular kids in it. What if we were all just running around in circles inside a glass terrarium, with no way out?

I reached one hand up to the moon, almost trying to gauge how far away from it I really was.

And I thought about Kenta Yamazaki.

What’s on your mind right now, man?

If you’re looking at the moon right now, is it the same one I’m looking at or one that’s completely different?

I went back inside my room, picked up my phone, and selected a name from my contact list. Then I placed a call.