Chapter 3: Ibuki Mio’s Disastrous Day

Chapter 3:
Ibuki Mio’s Disastrous Day

 

IT WAS THE MORNING of December twenty-third, two days before my Christmas date with Satou, when I went alone to Keyaki Mall with a specific purpose. I walked briskly into a store and looked around for something I needed.

“I’ve never used this stuff before,” I muttered.

After doing some online research, reading reviews, and asking a salesperson for their thoughts, I chose two of the item in question. The clerk put them in a small paper bag, and I paid. Astonished at how expensive they were, I left the store with the bag in hand and headed back toward the dormitory. All I needed to do now was pick up a few things at the convenience store, and then my plans would be in place. Afterward, I’d go to Keyaki Mall and watch a movie nearing the end of its theatrical run. That was my plan for the day.

However, my plan began to fall apart when I ran into a certain someone.

Before I reached the mall exit, a girl approached me slowly. She walked with a cane. “Good day to you, Ayanokouji-kun.” It was First Year Class A student Sakayanagi Arisu, the school chairman’s daughter, who knew my history with the White Room.

The school grounds appeared vast, but the spaces students could actually access were relatively compressed. You could bump into just about anyone when you were out.

“You’re out and about early today, huh? Alone,” I said. Sakayanagi usually had an entourage hanging around, but they were absent.

“I came to spend time with Masumi-san, but she’s not here yet,” Sakayanagi answered. She noticed the bag I carried. “Are you not feeling well?”

“Oh, no, I’m completely fine. Healthy as a horse.” I spread my arms wide, showing her that I was okay, then put the small paper bag in my pocket.

“I’m glad to hear that. If you aren’t busy, would you like to hang out for a bit?” she asked.

I didn’t even try to pretend I wanted to. “I’ll pass, thanks. You’re conspicuous, and I don’t like drawing attention,” I told her.

“Heh. That’s a shame.”

At any rate, Sakayanagi almost certainly didn’t enjoy my company. She just wanted a chance to taunt me. If she intended for people to know about my time in the White Room, she would’ve acted already. But she’d told no one, not even Ryuuen.

Sakayanagi probably planned to deal with me on her own.

“Then I assume standing here and talking won’t be a problem?” she asked.

“You want to talk here? Any particular reason?”

“He gets ever so angry when I call him this, but Dragon Boy was after you, wasn’t he? ‘The puppet master who controls Class D’ was how he described you, actually. Whatever happened there?” she asked.

Only the people specifically involved should’ve known what happened on the rooftop, and how the matter resolved. Still, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d managed to get her hands on some information.

“It seems that there’s been a falling out between the Class C students. Things have gotten quite bad. Were you aware of that?” Sakayanagi added.

I was. The story was that Class C had suffered an “internal dispute.” I was sure Sakayanagi had heard about that.

“I don’t really know the details,” I replied.

“Supposedly, Dragon Boy quarreled with his underlings. But, somehow, that story doesn’t ring true. I was certain that you were involved, Ayanokouji-kun.”

“Why would I get mixed up in that? You’re assuming I’m this ‘puppet master,’ right? I just think the whole thing’s surprising. I mean, I thought that Class C was pretty organized.”

“Class C’s ‘pretty organized,’ hmm?”

“Well, they’re an efficient unit, even if it’s because they suffer under a dictator,” I said.

“I see. Well then, it seems you had nothing to do with the incident, Ayanokouji-kun. From what I can see, you don’t appear injured at all.” Sakayanagi watched my expressions and gestures closely, but she’d get nothing. “The story about Class C’s infighting may be true. However, Ryuuen seems no closer to moving in on Class D,” she added.

“Probably because there’re quite a few talented candidates for puppet master in Class D. Kouenji, in particular, is very capable,” I replied.

“I see. Well, Kouenji certainly seems like a suitable opponent for Dragon Boy. I suppose we’ll understand the truth of the matter once the third semester begins,” Sakayanagi said.

“Can we change the topic?”

“Yes, of course.” Sakayanagi didn’t comment on the bluntness of my request.

“When I saw you a few days ago, I thought it was strange that you and Ichinose were getting along so well. I didn’t think you’d be that friendly with someone from another class,” I said. I remembered Sakayanagi and Ichinose walking around together; they’d appeared close. You didn’t spend a precious day off with someone if you didn’t get along.

“Heh,” Sakayanagi chuckled. “Please, enough with the jokes. She and I aren’t friends, you know.”

“Meaning?” I asked.

“Actually, she thinks that you and I are close, Ayanokouji-kun.” Sakayanagi paused. “Since Class C seems so obsessed with Class D, I’ve gotten a little bit jealous. I like messing around with Class B to stave off boredom.” Toying with her opponents entertained her, apparently. “Once the third semester begins, will you play with me?”

“Sorry, but no. Play with Horikita and the others if you want,” I replied.

“She isn’t a suitable opponent for me.”

“Then pick a fight with Ryuuen or the senior students. I’d rather you just ignore me.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible. I’d like to fight you as soon as I can, Ayanokouji-kun.” Sakayanagi wasn’t backing down. My humble act probably wouldn’t work on her. As long as she knew about the White Room, she wouldn’t give up.

“If I just ignore you, what then?” I asked.

“Are you sure you can afford to do that? If you won’t be my opponent, Ayanokouji-kun, I’ll just have to find another. I’m afraid you can’t hold me responsible if Class B, with which you’ve had such a collaborative relationship, collapses.”

“So, you already selected your pawns, huh?” This conversation was starting to get entertaining.

“Until you’re ready to play, Ayanokouji-kun, I’ll amuse myself with Class B. Who knows? If that whole class falls apart, maybe you and the rest of Class D can rise one rank.”

I wasn’t ready to assume that Sakayanagi actually meant any of this. This might’ve been a provocation, or just her way of having fun. But if she turned her sights from me to Ichinose, she might leave me in peace.

“Can you really win against Ichinose and her class?” I asked.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Class B has worked together since school started, while the Class A students have dragged each other down. Even if you claim you’re more capable, your credibility’s questionable.”

“I see. You think that, because this is all hypothetical, you can go ahead and say whatever nasty things you like,” Sakayanagi said. Her calm exterior was crumbling a bit.

I added a little more fuel to the fire. “I’ve also discovered your true identity. You’re the school chairman’s daughter.”

“I see. How did you learn this information, I wonder?” Sakayanagi took the bait.

“That doesn’t matter. What’s clear is that your father’s influence played some part in your assignment to Class A. I can’t say for certain that you were selected for that class based on merit alone. You can boast about how you’ll beat Ichinose, but I have trouble believing you.”

I was betting Sakayanagi didn’t like having people question her abilities.

“Then how do you explain the fact that many people within my class support me?” she countered.

“Support from your class doesn’t necessarily say anything about your abilities. Even Ryuuen and Ichinose, whom you deem beneath you, have their respective classmates’ support. If we’re talking about Class D, then Hirata does, too. He’s the best example, even. The ability to bring people together doesn’t always indicate skill in other areas,” I reasoned.

Sakayanagi threw her cane to the ground. It clattered on the floor.

“It seems I can’t use simple tricks against an opponent such as you,” she said. “Transparent ploys won’t work. My apologies for such rudeness. However, Ayanokouji-kun, do you think you might be getting a little arrogant? I think you’re intoxicated with your own success—the first success to come out of the White Room. Don’t you think?”

I hadn’t thought about it that way before. If I had to describe myself as either a success or a failure, I’d undeniably be a success. If I weren’t, then that man…my father…wouldn’t be so obsessed with me.

“You seem mistaken about one thing, Ayanokouji-kun. You think the White Room made you remarkable, don’t you? Certainly, the amount of knowledge you’ve acquired since childhood is extraordinary. And, while you’ve attempted to conceal your abilities here at this school, I have no doubts regarding the extent of your academic and athletic prowess. However, this institution is where the ‘have-nots’ receive the means to become geniuses, if at all possible. One might say that natural-born geniuses have no need for such a place,” Sakayanagi said.

That was certainly what my father believed—that genetics were irrelevant, and greatness was a product of the education a person received from the moment of their birth. Controlling every aspect of how someone was raised, from their sleep schedule to what they ate, was how you created a superior individual. My father thought that this was the only way to produce the manpower that could take Japan into the future.

“Why’re you so hostile toward me?” I asked.

“Beating you, Ayanokouji-kun, will prove that no ordinary person can defeat a natural-born genius. No matter how much effort you expend, we’re different breeds. That’s my hypothesis,” she replied.

So, she didn’t doubt the fact of her genius, huh?

At that point, Kamuro appeared behind us. She must’ve been searching for Sakayanagi.

“So, this is where you’ve been? You shouldn’t just have left the spot we agreed to meet at. You’re the one with bad legs, after all,” Kamuro told Sakayanagi. She had to have noticed me, but she didn’t make eye contact.

“I apologize. I arrived early, so I felt like taking a little walk,” said Sakayanagi.

“In that case, at least let me know ahead of time.”

Now that Kamuro was here, our conversation was pretty much over. Sakayanagi had absolutely no interest in making my abilities common knowledge. She’d hate it if others started gunning for me and snatched her prey from her.

“This may come off as rather sudden, Masumi-san,” Sakayanagi said, “but what do you think of Ichinose Honami-san?”

“You’re right. That really is sudden.” Kamuro seemed puzzled. My presence likely made the question even more awkward.

“You see, I was just discussing how to conquer Ichinose-san with this young man here,” said Sakayanagi.

“Conquer, huh? Well, if you ask me, Ichinose’s a model student. She really cares for others, and she’s good-natured. Is that what you mean?”

“Yes. Her being a model student is clear, isn’t it? She always scores in the top percentile on tests, and she leads her class well. What do you think, Ayanokouji-kun?”

“I agree,” I replied.

“Do you think that defeating a model student like Ichinose-san would be simple, Masumi-san?” Sakayanagi asked.

“It’d be hard, wouldn’t it? Class B’s pretty united. They won’t crumble under outside pressure. Bribery won’t work against Ichinose. You could launch a frontal attack, but even if our own class cooperated, it’s doubtful we’d win.”

“Indeed. At first glance, it appears that conquering Ichinose-san would prove a difficult task.”

“At first glance? You mean, that’s not the case?”

“No. Everyone has a weakness, even Ichinose-san. An Achilles heel,” Sakayanagi laughed. “The fact that she’s a model student, which you both acknowledge, is undeniable. However, can you say with certainty that her caring, good-natured temperament reflects her true self? Don’t you think there’s another side to her? That she looks down upon others, deep in her heart?”

“I dunno. I think most people are like that, at least a little. They may say nice things, but we really have no idea what’s going on in their heads. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, though. It’s perfectly reasonable for someone to act in their own self-interest. But I do think that Ichinose might be genuinely good-natured,” Kamuro reasoned.

She was right; we all had a secret self. Usually, that hidden personality wasn’t as extreme as Kushida’s, but all humans had a dark side. However, Ichinose Honami seemed to have no secret mean streak.

“You don’t think she looks down upon others?” Sakayanagi continued.

“No. She’s extremely kind—nice without rubbing it in your face.”

“So, you’re saying that she’s stupidly good-natured?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

Sakayanagi smiled. “In that case, you and Ichinose-san are very similar—aren’t you, Masumi-san?”

“Huh? Whaddya mean? We’re totally different. Are you being sarcastic or something?”

“Not at all. You might be surprised by this assessment, but you and Ichinose-san are remarkably alike.” Kamuro seemed exasperated, but Sakayanagi continued. “I mean that Ichinose has the same problem you do, Masumi-san.”

“The same problem? What?” asked Kamuro.

Sakayanagi looked at me, seemingly to check whether I’d caught on. Having no idea what she was talking about, I shook my head.

“Don’t you understand? Your secret, the one in my keeping, is the same as hers. Well, the problems are the same, but they played out to different ends,” Sakayanagi said.

Kamuro looked as if she understood. “So, you’re saying that Ichinose did the same thing I did?” She sounded shocked.

“Surely such an occurrence isn’t that uncommon,” said Sakayanagi.

“Did Ichinose tell you that? Do you know for sure?” asked Kamuro. She was normally calm and composed, but this clearly shook her.

“Naturally. She told me about it in detail, in fact. She opened her secret heart to me. I merely performed a cold reading,” said Sakayanagi.

“Cold reading” was a conversational technique by which someone extracted information through careful observation and leading questions. Perhaps Sakayanagi had gathered data beforehand and gone in prepared.

“Human beings lie to make themselves look better. You and Ichinose-san are just the tip of the iceberg. People really are interesting creatures. No matter how exceptional they are, they slip up so easily.” Sakayanagi gazed pointedly at me. “I’m afraid those are all the hints I can give you right now regarding Ichinose-san. I intend to thoroughly crush her. Hopefully, you can figure out why.”

Sakayanagi seemed to want me to compete with her, but sadly, I wasn’t interested. She could rampage as much as she pleased.

“Well then, shall we be going, Masumi-san?” They started walking away. I left as well, passing them. As I did, Sakayanagi spoke once more. “You didn’t say anything, Masumi-san.”

“Huh? About what?”

“You saw Ayanokouji-kun and I speaking together. We were discussing strategies. Even so, you asked no questions. Normally, you’d barrage me with queries, but…”

“Wh-what are you talking about? I’m not interested, that’s all.”

“Is that so? You tend to blather on about anything you notice. Yet this time, you’re incurious. I wonder why that is?” Kamuro didn’t answer. Sakayanagi continued. “Could it be that you already possess information about Ayanokouji-kun? If so, I wonder where you obtained it. Is it possible you two had a meeting of which I’m unaware?”

Like a bloodhound following a scent, Sakayanagi looked sharply at me. I neither spoke nor made eye contact. If she had a problem, let it be with Kamuro. “Heh,” she laughed. “Well, since I’m in quite a good mood today, I won’t press it further. Have a wonderful day, Ayanokouji-kun.”

With that, Sakayanagi left with Kamuro in tow. Kamuro sure had it tough, being used like a pawn by Sakayanagi even during winter vacation. Whatever Sakayanagi had on her was probably bad. Maybe it was for the best that we’d had this conversation. The part about Ichinose and Kamuro having the same problem, in particular, interested me.

Sakayanagi would get nothing out of lying to me, but I similarly gained nothing by taking what she said at face value. If the truth got out, and Ichinose did fall from grace, well, that’d be fine.

“Should I at least tell Horikita about this now? Hmm.”

Horikita was currently allying herself with Ichinose, and might back the girl. Personally, I thought it’d be better to just leave things alone. But the class leader got to call the shots, and that was currently Horikita. Maybe I’d contact her.

Later. This wasn’t urgent. With Sakayanagi gone, I strolled to the dorm. I was back on track to fulfill my original goal—delivering the items I’d purchased.

However, my objective was once again derailed.

As I approached Keyaki Mall’s exit, I passed a rather energetic-looking girl. She didn’t notice me, since she seemed to be in a hurry. She was almost running. She went into a store to join up with her friend, then disappeared. After watching her, I decided to forego heading back to the dormitory.

“Guess I’ll go see a movie,” I said.

3.1

 

I WENT TO THE MOVIES fairly often on my days off. Some people might’ve considered spending points on a film to be a waste of money, but I thought it was important to have a variety of interests, and films were becoming something of a hobby of late. In addition to being a way to relax, they let me acquire new knowledge, exposing me to different ideas, cultures, and points of view.

That said, the movie I saw today wasn’t award-winning cinema. Nor was it the type of saccharine love story couples flocked to over the holidays. I was watching an action story with gunfights, focusing on a conflict between small-town gangsters.

Some days, I just wanted to turn my brain off and be entertained.

Since the film was about to leave theaters after a short run, it was by no means a masterpiece. It was a pathetic B movie at best. Thus, I’d been able to book a ticket online and get a good seat for any time I wanted. Still, I kept hesitating over whether I was actually going to go watch it. In the end, I decided to go anyway, since I was already out for another reason.

I went to the counter, where I chose which movie I was going to see and the showtime I wanted. I received a laminated sheet with a seating chart on it. I realized then that something was wrong. The seats toward the back of the auditorium, the ones I always chose when I went to the movies, were already full. In fact, there didn’t seem to be many free seats left.

Apparently, a popular film scheduled at the same time had been postponed, so a lot of people had decided to see this gangster movie. With Christmas approaching, most of the seats had been reserved in pairs. People probably thought, Well, better to watch something, rather than nothing. Or something like that.

I told the employee that the exact center of the front row would be good. Fortunately, a few seats were still available. Why were the seats at the ends of rows so popular? Did it have anything to do with couples? I didn’t really know the specific psychology of movie theaters.

Since I had about twenty minutes until the movie started, I killed time by hanging around a rack of pamphlets. With ten minutes to go, I entered the auditorium alone. Couples sparsely filled the seats behind me. In the center of the front row, I waited for the movie to begin.

The seats filled up relatively early. I kept looking at the screen. I quite enjoyed watching the previews, seeing what movies were coming soon to theaters. That was why I always made sure to sit down before the previews started. Watching them on the big screen excited me in a way the previews didn’t at home, in front of the TV.

The auditorium lights were still on as a commercial advertising a convenience store played onscreen. I watched scenes of someone stirring soft, plump rice with a spoon, then lightly toasting nori on a net, until finally, children ate the finished onigiri.

As it got close to showtime, and the seats gradually filled up, I looked around. My row was mostly full now. There were couples to the right and left of me, leaving one seat open. Both couples were taking advantage of the theater’s dim lighting to hold hands. I guess couples went to see action movies too.

Since the seat directly to my left was still open, it’d probably remain empty. I mean, who else would do something like seeing a movie all alone on Christmas Eve? I put my phone on Do Not Disturb mode, then, to be extra cautious, turned it off.

As I did, the lights dimmed, and the previews played. This is where the fun begins. Just then, a shadow appeared on my left. A lone student sat down in the vacant seat.

So, another odd person. Someone who’d see a movie all alone on Christmas Eve. Honestly, I admired their taste in movies. I turned to look at my fellow cinephile.

“………”

My mouth fell open. The lone wolf was none other than Class C’s Ibuki Mio. The incident on the rooftop popped into my head, and I felt awkward. Fortunately, the auditorium was dark; Ibuki didn’t notice me. Her eyes focused only on the screen.

I was a firm believer in staying all the way to the end of the credits, but if I lingered until then, the lights would come back up. That settled it. Today, I’d make my escape as soon as the credits rolled.

However, I’d miscalculated. It was the problem that came up time and time again in movie theaters: the armrest.

If I were sitting at the end of the row, I definitely could’ve used both the left and right armrests, but other seats were a constant battle. As far as movie theater etiquette went, there was no official rule, but the early bird got the worm, so to speak. Since the couple to my right had already made use of the armrest, I’d thought the one to my left would be open. However, Ibuki casually placed her elbow on it. There was enough space on the armrest for two people, but then our arms would touch.

Maybe Ibuki thought about the same thing, because she looked to see who was sitting next to her. Naturally, our eyes met.

“Geh!” She gave a disgusted grunt. The previews were silent at just that moment, so I heard it quite clearly.

I thought that saying nothing would be weird, so responded with something simple. “What a coincidence, huh?”

Ibuki just looked away. She intended to ignore me, apparently. Well, that helped make things easier. I concentrated on the screen.

When the movie started, however, I felt Ibuki gaze over at me on occasion. Maybe she was just curious about my presence, but she didn’t seem focused on the movie. I wanted to turn to her and say something like, “How about you watch the screen instead of me?” I couldn’t speak loudly in the auditorium, though. Should I try whispering it into her ear? No, she might snap at me. I should just watch the movie, pretend not to notice, and put up with her. Fortunately, I’d been used to people monitoring me since childhood.

I wouldn’t let myself look agitated. I’d just watch the movie.

However, the film itself wasn’t particularly good—truly a B movie. Seriously, the plot’s so repetitive and dull. Shouldn’t it try something different? Well, at least we were nearing the climax, with the protagonist about to ride into enemy territory and save the day.

Just before that thrilling edge-of-your-seat conclusion, though, the screen suddenly went black. At first, I thought it was an artistic decision on the filmmaker’s part. We all remained silent and kept watching. However, after ten or twenty seconds, neither the picture nor the sound had come back.

Just as I started to wonder what was up, an announcement came over the auditorium speakers. “We sincerely apologize for the delay. The screening has been temporarily halted due to an equipment malfunction. We understand that this may be an inconvenience. Please bear with us until the problem has been addressed.”

The students grumbled and complained at first, then settled down to chat quietly and wait.

“Jeez. I really have no luck at all.” Ibuki sighed, seemingly directing her comment at me. Did she mean to imply that I’d caused the malfunction?

“I’m pretty shocked, too. I mean, I never imagined you’d come see a movie today,” I replied.

“I’m free to decide when I see a movie, aren’t I?” she retorted.

Guess she didn’t like what I suggested. “Well, the same goes for me,” I said.

“You—” Ibuki opened her mouth to speak, but stammered. She glared before speaking again. “All this time, you’ve made fun of me. I can’t forgive you for that.”

I understood why Ibuki might be angry. Consoling her, or saying that that wasn’t true, wouldn’t work. I adopted the strategy that I thought was best. “That’s power, Ibuki.”

“Huh?” A disquieting air hung around us. She gave me a sharp glare full of irritation and bloodthirst.

I continued speaking. “If you have enough power to overcome your opponent, you win. Whether your opponent hid the true extent of their abilities doesn’t change that. If you could’ve stopped me, Ryuuen would’ve won. Or, at the very least, we could’ve ended in a draw.”

I would’ve looked extremely lame if I’d been beaten up on that rooftop after taunting Ibuki.

“That’s…” Ibuki definitely couldn’t argue. One should rely on one’s own strength. Whether an opponent hid their abilities should’ve been a non-issue.

“Besides, unlike Ryuuen and Sakayanagi, I’m not aiming for the upper classes,” I continued. “Naturally, since I don’t want to stand out, I don’t make it a point to show off what I can do. I only fought Ryuuen after weighing many other options. There was no getting around it. It’s never been my intention to mock or condescend to my opponents.”

“I really don’t like that.” No matter how logical my argument, it was difficult for Ibuki to accept. “You say you don’t want to stand out, but that’s bullshit. If you hadn’t done what you did back on the island and provoked Ryuuen, things wouldn’t’ve turned out this way. Even before that, if you let the whole thing with Sudou slide, that would’ve been it.”

“You may be right.” If I’d let Sudou get expelled, Ibuki defeat Class D on the island, and Ryuuen game the cruise ship’s test, then Ryuuen wouldn’t have had it out for Class D the way he did. He probably would’ve turned his sights on Class B long ago.

“You say one thing, then do another,” Ibuki accused. “You used your abilities even as you stayed hidden.”

She turned back to the blank screen, probably figuring that any further conversation would be a waste of time. I decided to let things go. With any luck, the movie would resume soon, and this encounter would come to an end.

3.2

 

HOWEVER, MY PLAN to leave as soon as the credits rolled went up in smoke. I waited and waited, but the movie didn’t start. Either the equipment malfunction was just that severe, or the workers were slow.

Ibuki sighed repeatedly. Well, it was perfectly reasonable to sigh in this situation. I’d already started to lose interest in the movie.

“So, what do you think’s going to happen?” I asked.

I couldn’t take the silence anymore. Since Ibuki still hadn’t left, she was probably curious about the end of the movie. Or maybe, since no one else was moving, she couldn’t get to the exit without crawling over everyone.

Ibuki rested her cheek on her fist, her arm placed firmly on the armrest. She made no attempt to look in my direction. Her body language screamed, “You’re annoying, so don’t talk to me!”

Maybe I should quit poking the beehive. When in the world was the movie going to start?

A few students here and there grew tired of waiting and left. I thought Ibuki would follow, but she showed no sign of getting up. Maybe she simply wanted to see the rest of the movie after all.

For my part, I wanted to see how it ended. If I didn’t stick around, then coming here would’ve been meaningless. Time to display my tenacity.

I turned my phone on and checked the time. About twenty minutes had passed since the movie stopped. The equipment malfunction was going to impact not just this screening, but the next one as well. Looking around, I saw that the number of people remaining had dwindled. Only a few audience members stayed, including Ibuki and me.

People who came alone to the movie might stick it out, but couples probably didn’t want to waste their time in here. Guess they left before the amorous mood died.

“You aren’t heading back?” asked Ibuki as I stared at my phone. Her face was turned away, and I couldn’t see her expression.

“I’ve already watched 80 percent of the movie. I’m honestly curious about how it ends. Since we’ve been waiting twenty minutes now, it should be back up anytime.”

“If you’re that curious, you could just look it up online,” she replied.

“I don’t really feel like reading someone else’s opinion,” I answered.

I used reviews as a guide to determine whether I wanted to watch a movie, not as a means of evaluating it. Besides, if reading one or two lines explaining the ending was enough to satisfy you, why would you go to a movie in the first place?

“I don’t care about this movie anymore. I just don’t want to leave before you do,” she said.

“You’re very blunt.” Ibuki wasn’t going to win this game of chicken. I had no intention of getting up until the movie ended. That was an advantage a guy who had no Christmas Eve plans possessed.

A sad announcement definitively ended the battle. The faulty equipment couldn’t be fixed, so they’d decided to cancel the screening. The staff explained how refunds would be processed.

“I really have no luck,” Ibuki sighed.

If I wanted to know what happened, I’d have to either wait until the movie was available to rent, or read spoilers online.

Even though the movie was canceled, Ibuki showed no sign of moving. I decided to just get up and leave. My business here was done.

3.3

 

MAYBE BECAUSE OF THE TENSION I’d endured, my shoulders felt stiff. After unsettling interactions with Sakayanagi and Ibuki, I didn’t feel like taking any detours on my way back.

As I left the theater, a voice called out to me from behind. “Hey. Do you really think you can just go on hiding your identity like this?” It was Ibuki. She’d chased after me to ask that?

“Did you not listen to a word I said? Just keep what happened to yourself,” I told her.

“This isn’t a joke. All this time, you’ve been laughing at me,” she replied. She didn’t need to repeat that she couldn’t forgive me. It was written on her face.

“Well, what’re you going to do about it? Spread the word about me?” I asked.

“No. After all, I wouldn’t be the only one in trouble if I did. Right?”

“That’s right. Depending how things played out, it wouldn’t just affect the people who were on the rooftop. Manabe and her friends might get caught in the crossfire.”

If school officials followed the series of events all the way back, they might trace things to me. However, I could come up with as many excuses as I needed to give them the runaround. The most they could possibly do was suspend me.

“Besides, this school’s built on student conflict. You’re barking up the wrong tree by blaming me,” I told Ibuki.

“I know that. It’s just, well…I can’t stand you.”

I contemplated Ibuki Mio. She’d probably studied martial arts since childhood. There was hardly any difference in strength between male and female bodies before adolescence, so with her skill, it would’ve been easy to overpower the opposite sex.

With time and puberty, though, things got more complicated. You could categorize Ibuki as fairly strong for an average high-school student. There was no way a man without martial arts training could contend with her. But against a man with the same talent, one who’d trained at the same level or higher, she couldn’t win.

Ibuki wasn’t ready to acknowledge that.

“You went quiet. What’re you thinking about?” she asked.

“I was contemplating how I can resolve this matter amicably.”

“And?”

“Unfortunately, I couldn’t come up with anything. No matter what I said, nothing would convince you.”

For the first time today, the corners of Ibuki’s mouth twitched into a small smile. “You’re right. I won’t back down.”

As I’d suspected, I might need to employ an all-out attack. “So, do you like movies?” I asked.

“Huh?” I understood why she looked stunned by the non sequitur.

However, I daringly continued a normal conversation. “I mean, you’d go see a movie alone. And an obscure one at that.”

“So? That’s my goal.”

What an odd response. “Goal?”

“To see every movie they screen at this school. It’s not a big deal.”

That was surprising. Everyone at this school had goals—to make friends, to go out on days off, to graduate without being marked late or absent even once, to always place first on tests. Ibuki’s “see every movie” goal might’ve seemed simple by comparison, but it was actually difficult to achieve. Going to a movie you wanted to see was easy, but sitting through something that didn’t interest you was tiresome. Most people probably would’ve considered such a goal frivolous. However, establishing a goal and then seeing it through was hugely impressive.

“Are you making fun of me?” Ibuki glared, interpreting my silence as a bad thing.

“Hmm. I wonder.” I could’ve complimented her, but I was afraid to. It’d probably be best if we parted ways before people noticed us “hanging out.” “So, what’re you up to now? Want to grab some tea?”

“Don’t be a jerk. I’m leaving.”

I wasn’t surprised by the refusal. “Well, if you’re headed right, I’ll turn left. Have a nice day.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to spend a second more with you, either.”

Truly, we were a match made in heaven. Ibuki immediately turned right. I went left. However, she was suddenly beside me, yanking my arm.

“Hey. What?” I asked.

“Shut up. Ishizaki and the others are headed this way.”

Ibuki dragged me off to a hiding spot, then stealthily observed what was going on. Soon after, Ishizaki, Komiya, and Kondo passed by. Ishizaki was in the group’s center. Ryuuen would normally have been with them, but obviously, he wasn’t there.

“You okay, Ishizaki? You’re still staggerin’ around.”

As Ishizaki walked, his face twisted into a pained expression. “Shut it. I’m fine, already. Aw—owww!”

Komiya looked around anxiously. “About earlier…did you really get into it with Ryuuen-san? For real?”

“Yeah. Albert and Ibuki were with me too. Ryuuen-san’s…no, Ryuuen’s time is over. From now on, he’s done giving orders.”

“That’s a relief, man. But wait. Who’s gonna come up with strategies and stuff?”

“Hell if I know. Kaneda’ll probably do it, I guess.”

They walked past us while they talked.

“Phew. They didn’t see us,” said Ibuki. She probably didn’t want her classmates to notice the two of us together. Especially not Ishizaki. There was no telling what his reaction would be.

However, Ibuki and I had both overheard what Ishizaki said.

“I got an e-mail from Ishizaki a while ago. He said Ryuuen didn’t drop out of school,” Ibuki told me.

“That so?”

She drew nearer. “You did something. Ryuuen wouldn’t have given up on dropping out otherwise.”

“My involvement aside, didn’t you try to stop him yourself?” I asked.

It seemed like I hit the nail on the end. “I hate Ryuuen’s guts,” Ibuki replied. “But I hate that you took him down, when you’re not even our classmate. I hate that even more.”

“I beat him precisely because I’m an outsider. Besides, there’re things you can do, as members of Class C, that I can’t. Like how Ishizaki intends to carry out his duty,” I said. Ishizaki might hate Ryuuen, but he was still trying to do his part. I could tell it was because he had a certain amount of respect for the other boy.

“Do you really think so?”

“Do you?”

“He should hate it. Ryuuen treated him like shit. Still, even if it took three people to bring him down, Ishizaki’s position in the class has to improve now that Ryuuen’s defeated.”

“I see. I suppose you can look at it that way.” I nodded as though she’d convinced me.

Ibuki lightly kicked the back of my knee. “Thought you’d dodge that.”

“Look. I’m not psychic. I can’t anticipate every attack.”

“So, what’d you think of what Ishizaki said?” she asked. Maybe she didn’t want to be the only one with an opinion.

“Even if Ishizaki says he hates the guy, he still probably respects Ryuuen’s abilities.”

Ishizaki likely recognized the downsides of Ryuuen dropping out. He was playing along with Ryuuen’s cover story about their falling out, at any rate. Ryuuen, meanwhile, seemed to be keeping his promise; he wasn’t telling anyone about me. I hadn’t thought he would, but that was no guarantee. There was always the chance that Ryuuen would change his mind and rat me out. If he decided to talk, even Karuizawa might be in trouble.

“Albert probably won’t say anything, but do you think Ishizaki will stay quiet?” asked Ibuki. She knew what I was thinking.

“If he talks, he talks. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“I see.”

As Ibuki saw that I wasn’t rattled, her interest seemed to fade. Since Ishizaki and the others had left, I decided to finally break away. I crouched as Ibuki came at my head with a high-speed kick.

“So much for not being able to dodge,” she said.

“Because that was a frontal attack. Plus, you just kicked with all your strength, didn’t you?” A roundhouse kick from an experienced martial artist could’ve given me a concussion.

“You’re so strong, but you won’t show it. Why?”

“Do you go around telling everyone how strong you are?” I asked.

“Well…”

“It’s true that if you don’t display your skills, no one will even know you have them. But, unlike Sudou and Ishizaki, I’m not the hotheaded type.”

“Fight me,” said Ibuki.

“What?”

“I want you to fight me one more time. Go all out.”

She just wouldn’t give up. “How did we even get onto this topic?” I asked.

“I hate you. I hate your lying, two-faced bullshit. You show the world a fake personality and keep the real you locked away.”

“I see.”

For better or worse, guys like Ryuuen and Ishizaki were exactly what they appeared to be. Ibuki was the same. Even when she spied on us during the island test, she’d acted like herself.

“I’ve always been this apathetic,” I said. “But it’s pointless to argue, isn’t it?”

“Yep. Everything else aside, I won’t be satisfied until I pay you back for the rooftop.”

Ibuki wouldn’t listen. I could run, but it would cause me a lot of grief if she hounded me for the rest of the school year.

Ibuki must’ve guessed what I was thinking. “You don’t want me to cause trouble, do you?” she asked.

She was threatening me. Even if she didn’t tell people about me, they’d notice her following me and ask questions.

“If you want me to back down, have another match with me,” she said.

She said “match,” but it sounded like “battle.”

“Wouldn’t you rather throw down in a game of go or shogi?”

“I don’t know how to play.”

Unfortunate. I was good at both those games.

“Let’s settle this,” said Ibuki. She took a fighting stance, right in the middle of the crowded mall. That was how she decided things—in the most direct, black-and-white way possible.

“This won’t change anything,” I told her.

“Hah. You mean, the results will be the same?” Ibuki’s lips curled. A vein bulged slightly in her forehead. The faint smile she wore just a moment ago now seemed like a distant memory.

“Not just the results. Your way of thinking too, Ibuki.” No matter how badly she lost, Ibuki wouldn’t accept defeat. Even pretending to let her win would be like pouring gas on a raging fire.

“So, you don’t accept my challenge?” she asked.

There was no way I’d accept under normal circumstances. Deep down, I really didn’t want to do this, especially when I was so tired. However…

“Are you free now?” I asked.

“Yeah, I guess. I didn’t have any plans besides the movie. Does that mean we’re doing this?” Ibuki apparently hadn’t expected that I’d go along with the fight. She looked quite taken aback. In fact, she stepped away.

“Were you joking?” I asked.

“No, I want this,” she snapped. “Do you accept or not?”

“Suppose we have a match. What should we do about the location?” I asked.

The mall was hardly the best place. That said, anywhere on campus was basically out of the question. Since it was winter vacation, there was no telling who might see us. We could probably take the fight to one of our rooms, but if we were spotted, that could be even worse.

Ibuki understood that too. “Let’s go look.”

“You’re not going to give up on this, huh?”

“Our chance meeting today sealed your fate.” With that dramatic line, Ibuki started walking off. She seemed to want me to follow her.

“What if I run away?” I asked.

“I’ll chase you. And, when I find you, I’ll dropkick you.”

Well—there you had it. I followed her.

“Before we go any further, let me say this. Our first and only goal is finding a place suitable for our fight.” If she couldn’t pick a suitable location, I was done.

“Yeah.”

Ibuki walked briskly through Keyaki Mall, searching for a quiet, isolated spot. She wouldn’t find one easily. Even in abandoned areas, there were security cameras. If students weren’t around, there would be employees. Maybe we could’ve fought at the school building or something, but we couldn’t enter without our uniforms, and changing into those just to fight would be bizarre.

“Why don’t we just give up?” I suggested. “I mean, finding a secure spot here is—”

“Wait a minute,” said Ibuki, looking at a door with a glass window bearing the words Staff Only.

An employee pushing a flatbed cart came out that door. He wore a yellow apron. A nametag on his chest read Kimura and Keyaki Mall Pharmacy in a large font. The cart held three cardboard boxes, and the employee was headed toward the mall pharmacy, most likely restocking supplies.

“Follow me,” Ibuki said.

“Hey, that’s—”

She opened the door and led us into a deserted warehouse. The space was dimly lit, full of cardboard boxes of snacks, gauze, and the like. The heat wasn’t on, so it was chilly.

“No one will see us.”

There wouldn’t be any security cameras installed here. However, shouldn’t this place have been locked? Did that employee forget to lock up behind him? Or maybe he’d be back soon? In any event, we’d be in trouble if we were discovered.

“We’ll just say we walked in by mistake. We’re not stealing anything; in fact, we’re completely empty-handed,” Ibuki said. “This works, yeah?”

“I suppose, but…if a staff member shows up, what then?” I asked.

“We’ll just have to settle things before that happens.” Ibuki closed the door with a ka-chunk.

“What if that guy forgot to lock up? He’ll come back and see us.”

“No need to panic, is there?”

“Look at the doorknob,” I said.

Ibuki frowned. “Hey, wait a minute. Why isn’t there a way to unlock it?”

“Some glass-window doors have no thumb-turn lock on the inside. That thumb-turn part is what unlocks them,” I replied.

“So, in other words, we’re trapped?”

“That would be the case.”

“What the hell? Why is it that every time I encounter you, I get trapped? Agh! Just remembering that time in the elevator makes me sick.”

“This isn’t my fault. You chose the location.”

“Huh? So, it’s my fault?”

Who else deserved the blame? Last time, we were stuck in an elevator in the middle of summer. This time, we were in an unheated warehouse in the middle of winter. What a world.

“The windowpane looks like it’s made of ordinary glass,” I noted. “We can smash it ourselves.”

“So, we can still get out!”

“They’d definitely know we broke in here, though.”

“Fine. I’m going to stay positive,” said Ibuki.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Whatever. This just means no one’s going to see us fight.” Ibuki slowly reassumed a fighting stance. “You decide the rules. Fight until one of us admits defeat? Or until someone loses consciousness?”

“Until someone admits defeat,” I said.

“On second thought, I’ll decide the rules,” she said.

“Hey.”

“If we do what you want, you’ll just give up and take the loss before we even start.” She was absolutely correct. “We go until a clear, black-and-white winner is decided.”

She was so damn pushy. “Since we’re adding conditions, I have one of my own,” I said.

“What is it?”

“If we settle things here, you can never challenge me again. Okay? If the school makes us fight as part of an exam, that’s different. But this is the very last personal battle we’ll have.”

“Fine by me.”

With that decided, I had no choice but to get in battle mode. I’d honestly thought the rooftop incident would end things, but there was no getting out of this. The real problem, however, would come after I defeated Ibuki. Let’s finish this.

“You’re so annoying,” said Ibuki. “You just want to get out of here.”

“This location isn’t ideal.” No one would believe we walked in here by mistake. They’d probably assume we came in to steal things.

There was no time to think, though—Ibuki started launching kicks at me, all the while keeping up a strong defense. Her fighting style’s mostly focused on footwork, eh?

Continually dodging kicks inside a cramped space was no simple task, especially since I had to avoid damaging the cardboard boxes at all costs. Break it, buy it. Between my personal expenses and the large number of private points I “loaned” to Karuizawa, I really wanted to avoid excess spending.

Just countering Ibuki wouldn’t be enough, though. In fact, she probably wouldn’t admit defeat even if I knocked her out cold. I needed to beat her decisively, but I didn’t want to leave visible bruises, which limited my options. I had to make her admit defeat without injuring her. Not an easy task.

I avoided Ibuki’s kicks, moving as little as possible. Then, I raised my left, nondominant hand. Slap! The base of my palm smacked Ibuki’s temple hard.

The fierce sound and pain knocked Ibuki over. “Ah!”

If I’d struck her with a little more force, she probably would’ve lost consciousness. Even if I could knock her out, however, I couldn’t easily knock the will to fight out of her.

“You’re not even taking this seriously?” Ibuki held her forehead and glared at me.

“If you’re an experienced martial artist, you should understand what I’m doing,” I said.

“I do understand. I don’t need it pointed out to me. But…some things I just can’t accept.”

Ibuki let out a cry and unleashed another kick. She left herself wide open in the process, focused on pumping as much power into the attack as possible. She might’ve been going for a decisive one-hit knockout—or maybe she hoped we’d end up hitting each other, and was preparing to counter?

Either way, I had no intention of taking the attack. With my right arm, I guarded against Ibuki’s repeated kicks. I used my left hand to grab her throat.

“Gah!”

Ibuki couldn’t breathe properly. She used both hands to grasp at my left arm, frantically struggling. She dug her nails into my flesh, but I didn’t relax my grip on her throat.

“Decide, Ibuki. Do you want to stop? Or do we have to continue this pointless farce? If you choose to fight, you might very well die,” I told her.

If Ibuki could’ve been moved by mere words, we wouldn’t have been here right now. However, it was worth a try.

“Ryuuen showed me what he had. How about you, Ibuki? Can you show me that?”

“Guh!” Ibuki glared at me with pure hatred, but her hands shook. She weakly tapped my arm three times, her eyes drifting closed.

I understood and gently loosened my grip, releasing her.

Ibuki huffed. “I didn’t think you’d go easy on me just because I’m female, but you really were merciless.”

“Well, you’re not an opponent I can hold back against.” If I’d gone easy on her, she would’ve grown even angrier. It was true that I’d scarcely tried, but that was another matter. The important thing was that I didn’t seem like I held back.

“Ah, come on. Why?” sighed Ibuki. Frustrated, she sat down. “Fine. You win.”

I didn’t care about winning or losing. If Ibuki was convinced now, that was enough for me. We’d both gotten what we needed from this fight.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever seen. Stronger than any adult. How’d you get that strong?” she asked.

“Daily training. Obvious to anyone who understands martial arts, right?”

“Yeah.” Ibuki sighed in exasperation, giving up. “Okay, so now, how do we get out of here?”

“It’s simple.” I looked up the Keyaki Mall Pharmacy’s phone number and called them. “Excuse me. Is a clerk named Kimura-san available? Would you mind putting him on the phone?”

Shortly afterward, Kimura answered. I let him know that we were stuck.

“Won’t this be a problem?” asked Ibuki.

“We’ll probably incur some kind of penalty. Play along so we can wrap this up quick.”

Soon afterward, the staff member who’d locked the door earlier entered the warehouse. Spotting us, he asked why we came inside, and why we didn’t contact anyone sooner.

“Sorry. I just got a little too excited. We were on a date and looking for an isolated spot. I didn’t even notice,” I said, playing the part of half an idiotic couple on a romantic Christmas outing. Of course, I didn’t go so far as to explicitly call us a couple. “Right, Mio? You should apologize, too.”

“H-huh? What’re you—”

Ibuki jolted when I called her by her first name, but quickly understood what was up. I’d considered the small chance that she might betray me, and prepared accordingly. This way, she couldn’t tattle on me without incriminating herself in the process.

“I’m really sorry.” Even though she seemed annoyed, Ibuki lowered her head in apology.

Going with the flow, I swore that we hadn’t touched anything. Kimura-san just kept grilling us, but eventually said he wouldn’t report the incident. After all, it made him look bad too. That was why I’d called for the specific person who forgot to lock the door.

Once Kimura was done lecturing us, we quickly escaped, and he locked the door and returned to work.

“We made it,” I said.

“You memorized that clerk’s name in the second we passed him?” Ibuki was apparently more interested in that than in the fact that I’d called her by her first name earlier.

“It just happened to enter my field of view.”

“I see.” Her voice was cold. “In any case, I won’t fight you again.”

“Thank you.”

“But I want your opinion.”

“My opinion?”

“You know that a student needs twenty million points to get to Class A, right? For an entire class to do so, they need a combined total of eight hundred million points. Do you think it’s even possible to save such an absurd number?” she asked.

“It’s impossible. Everyone dreams about it, but they have to face reality in the end,” I replied.

“You’re probably right.”

“Is that the last thing you wanted to ask?”

“Yes, that’s all. Bye.” She quietly walked away.

And so, I severed my ties with Ibuki. At least, I hoped so. We’d spend three years at this school, though. I was sure we’d face off again before we graduated.

3.4

 

“TODAY’S BEEN A DISASTER.”

After having my plans derailed multiple times, I was finally on the way back to my dorm. Going out during winter vacation was clearly a dangerous activity.

When I checked the time, I saw that it was almost three in the afternoon. As I walked through Keyaki Mall, I noticed three girls slightly ahead of me, all Class D students: Satou, Shinohara, and Matsushita. They were having a friendly chat as they walked.

Since I already had plans to meet Satou the day after tomorrow, my gaze went to her. I made sure the three girls wouldn’t notice me, but stayed close enough to hear their conversation. If I picked up any useful information, the day wouldn’t be a total wash.

“Well, we weren’t able to get ourselves boyfriends before Christmas, huh?” said Matsushita, looking at all the couples.

“You complain, but you could easily get one right away. You’re so cute,” said Shinohara, poking Matsushita with a playful grin.

“I’m not willing to settle.”

“Yeah, I guess not. But, you know, I really do want a boyfriend.”

“Well, do you have any candidates in mind?” asked Matsushita.

Shinohara crossed her arms. “Not a single one. Our class’s a catastrophe.”

“Karuizawa-san’s already claimed the only real prize.” Of course, she was talking about Hirata.

“Since we’ve done nothing but fight with the other classes, we haven’t had any free time to make friends. Maybe it’s better to try going out with the seniors, you know? Though a university student would be even better,” said Matsushita. Dating anyone in the same year was apparently out of the question.

“The seniors, huh? I guess I kinda think the opposite. If we’re talking romance, I’d prefer someone my age,” replied Shinohara.

“What about you, Satou-san?”

“Huh? Me? Oh, well…I guess I’d prefer a classmate, like Shinohara-san.”

“No, no,” corrected Shinohara. “I never said anything about classmates.” So, the same grade level was fine; Class D was not.

“Speaking of which, Satou-san, haven’t you been talking with Ayanokouji-kun?”

Uh, maybe I should make myself scarce. I turned around and quickly abandoned pursuit. Putting more distance between the girls and myself, I decided to kill time at the bookstore. I stared at a magazine that ranked everything from school supplies to home appliances. It answered important questions like which detergent brand was best.

“Rankings for trendy goods. Exciting.” Since the magazine was clearly so interesting, I looked through it. “Maybe I should buy it and just head back to the dorm,” I muttered.

The section on the best car accessories didn’t address my current needs, but since it was a bonus, I accepted it. Maybe I could use the magazine as a reference guide for buying appliances.

Okay, Satou and the other girls had to have left by now. Relieved, I looked around; however, I could see Shinohara standing there alone. The other two must’ve gone to the restroom or something. Guess I’ll have to look at some more books.

There were quite a few customers in the bookstore, but I instantly spotted someone who didn’t quite fit in—who radiated bad intentions. Ryuuen Kakeru.

He was looking at academic books. With his back turned, I couldn’t see his expression. Without his cronies around, he seemed kind of lonely. It was impressive that he was up and about after the beating I’d given him just the other day, but maybe I should’ve expected that.

Even if Ryuuen noticed me, we didn’t exactly have a friendly relationship. I decided not to approach him.

As I continued to browse the shelves, I heard Shinohara. She sounded bewildered. I looked up and saw a guy and girl, probably seniors, glaring at her. “Hey. You’re a first-year, aren’t you?”

“Eh?”

“Were you staring at us right now?”

“N-no, I wasn’t. I’d never…”

I didn’t recognize the senior girl, but the guy was familiar. He was the third-year Class D student who sold me old test answers at the start of the year. Quite a few second- and third-year students had gotten expelled since then, but though he’d been just scraping by—living off vegetable meal sets—he was still here.

The two upperclassmen wore gaudy matching polka-dot outfits, clearly broadcasting “couple” vibes. Their arms almost touched. No doubt they were an item.

“You were totally staring,” the senior girl told Shinohara. “What, can’t face forward when you’re walking?”

“Come on, let’s just go already. Don’t mind her,” said the guy.

His girlfriend seemed pretty angry, though. “You’re just a first year. And you’re a Class D student too, aren’t you?”

“Well, um, yes. But…but I wasn’t staring.”

“Don’t lie to me. You’re the one who bumped into us!” I was willing to bet she and Shinohara had shoulder-checked each other accidentally. Since neither seemed to have any injuries, it couldn’t have hurt that much. “You should do something about that attitude. Bumping into a senior? Apologize.”

“B-but you’re the one who wasn’t paying attention, so—”

“Huh? Are you saying it’s my fault?”

Shinohara tried, but she couldn’t take the pressure. She reluctantly bowed her head. “N-no. I’m really sorry.”

However, that wasn’t enough for the senior. Her fuse was lit, and she was ready to explode. “Hmph. With an attitude like that, the apology means nothing.”

“A-attitude? But you weren’t looking ahead, Senpai.”

“Don’t screw with me! You were the one being a space case.”

“But—”

Maybe I should’ve lent a helping hand. But I hadn’t seen them bump into each other, so it wasn’t like I could stand witness. As I mulled it over, ready to put back the magazine I held, another student appeared. He noticed Shinohara and approached her. I continued to watch.

“Hey. What’re ya doing, Shinohara?” asked Ike Kanji, ignoring the seniors.

“Ah…Ike-kun. Um…” From the expression on Shinohara’s face, she seemed caught between two brewing storms. Ike brought trouble wherever he went, so that was a perfectly understandable reaction.

“Who are you? Piss off,” snapped the senior girl.

“Uh, sorry, Senpai. But, hey, this girl’s my classmate. Did she do something?” Judging from Ike’s tone, he seemed to have a grasp on the situation.

“Did she do something? She crashed into us. On top of that, she got all huffy and mean and kept glaring at us.”

“Ah, I get it. She glares at me, too,” Ike laughed. Shinohara looked dumbstruck. “But, hey, her face just looks like she’s always glaring, y’know? She wouldn’t have the guts to actually glare at an upperclassman. She’s just got resting bitch face or something,” said Ike. “At any rate, we better not cause a ruckus. A teacher was just here.” He directed his comments to the guy, not the girl.

It appeared to be an effective strategy. “Let’s go,” said the third-year boy.

The senior girl still looked dissatisfied, but her anger apparently faded. “Hmph!” she said, and strode ahead with her boyfriend.

After the two upperclassmen left, Shinohara let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks,” she said.

You’d think that Ike would’ve been overjoyed to have a girl thank him, but he acted surprisingly cool. “No need to thank me. Not a big deal.”

“Still, that stuff you said was not okay. It’s not like I’m always glaring at people or something. My face isn’t like that.”

“I just said that to help you.”

“Couldn’t you think of a better way?”

“Well, no.”

“Well, um…th-thank—”

“Y-yeah. See ya. Hey, enjoy your Christmas without a boyfriend!” Ike taunted.

“Huh?! You wouldn’t be able to get a girlfriend if you spent ten thousand years trying!” Shinohara snapped back.

For some reason, Ike had given Shinohara a mean comment as a parting gift—maybe because Satou and Matsushita were coming back from the restroom. Upon meeting back up with Shinohara, the girls looked suspicious.

“Hey, was that Ike-kun? What happened?” asked Satou.

“Was he messing with you again? Ugh. Why’s our class full of idiots?” asked Matsushita.

“N-no, that’s not what happened. Not really.” I thought Shinohara would vent her anger upon their return, but she didn’t even try to bring up what’d happened. Instead, she quietly turned and watched Ike leave.

Well. I decided to head back too. It didn’t seem like I’d pick up information on Satou here.

3.5

 

ON THE WAY TO MY DORM, carrying the bag containing the magazine I’d bought, I received a call. The caller ID said Hasebe Haruka. I answered.

“Hey, it’s me,” said Haruka. “This might be sudden, but how about we all get together the day after tomorrow and par-tay?”

“Hmm? Get together and do what?” I asked. My schedule for the day after tomorrow was already decided, after all.

“You don’t know what par-tay means? Par-tay, like ‘party.’” Language was bizarre. “Our little get-together’s theme would be ‘Christmas isn’t just for lovers,’ or something.” Apparently, the holiday’s romance had a crippling effect on single people.

I did think it sounded like fun, but had to decline. “Sorry. I already have plans.”

“Oh, yeah? The day after tomorrow is Christmas. What do you mean, you have plans?”

If Haruka and the others met up, they might see me. It was probably better just to tell her directly. “I promised I’d hang out with Satou.”

“‘Satou’? Is that code for sweets or something? Like, you’re gonna buy biscotti, put some in your pockets, and walk around?” Haruka was a special kind of idiot. “Whoa, whoa. Wait a minute. Could it be that you’re going on a date? On Christmas?” She took a minute to get there, but she finally arrived at her destination.

“It’s not really a date. We’re just going to hang out.”

“People all around the world would call that a ‘date,’ though.”

Maybe, but I was avoiding the use of the word “date.” “We haven’t been able to hang out yet, so she asked me to go someplace on the twenty-fifth.”

“Uh, that’s kinda bad, isn’t it?”

Since enrolling at this school, I’d learned a lot about social norms. I understood the significance of a guy and girl going out on Christmas. But I’d accepted Satou’s invitation, and she chose the twenty-fifth. That was it.

“Just checking, but you’re not ‘going out’ or anything, right?” Haruka asked.

“It’s the same as that time with Shiina. I’m not dating anyone.”

“Well, it’s not really my place to say it, but…well, what about Airi?”

“Airi?”

“If you’re not hanging with us, Kiyopon, she’ll probably wonder why. It’s not like you can pretend to be sick. Well, whatever…I’ll handle it. Where’re you going on your not-date?”

“Does this mean you’re going to move your plan around?”

“I’ve got no choice, right? If Airi sees you and Satou-san on a Christmas date, chances are she’ll faint, Kiyopon.”

That was probably an exaggeration, but then again, this was Airi we were talking about. It might actually happen. She might even get severely depressed.

I sensed Haruka’s demeanor change on the other end of the call. “Haven’t you noticed Airi’s feelings?” she asked.

We were heading into dangerous territory. “Well, it’s obvious that what she feels for me isn’t what she feels for most people,” I replied.

“Wow. Weird way to put it, but all right. At least you’re not that dense, I guess. Since you understand, I’m not gonna push you for an answer.”

Push me, huh?

The way I saw it, Airi was like a baby bird that’d just begun leaving the nest. At this point in her life, it wasn’t surprising that she’d develop feelings for me, since I was one of the few members of the opposite sex she’d grown close to. She needed to mature, however, and get to know lots of other people. By doing so, she could experience emotions like simple friendship before diving into romantic love.

It was the same for me, too. What was school? What were friends? And what did it mean to love someone? I didn’t understand those things very well yet, and I couldn’t jump into the deep end before I explored the shallows.

“I’ll call you, okay?” said Haruka.

“Sorry I wasn’t available,” I replied.

“Well, our group formed specifically to get away from normal friendship rules, right? We hang out when we want to, and when we don’t, we don’t. That’s what makes it fun, ya know?” With that, Haruka hung up.

“That’s certainly true,” I said to no one.

I realized then that I was grateful to be part of such a group.