Chapter 5: Meeting the Day Before the Cultural Festival

Chapter 5: Meeting the Day Before the Cultural Festival

Chapter 5:

Meeting the Day Before the Cultural Festival

T HE DAYS FLEW BY quickly, and it was now Friday, November 12 th . The day before the Cultural Festival had come, and school had ended for the day. Every class was solemnly preparing for what was to come. Today after school was our trial run for the Cultural Festival, an initiative spearheaded by the student council. It was going to be an important test to determine how things would go tomorrow. All of our classmates, with a few exceptions, had begun moving about to start getting ready.

Horikita’s class had a total of four offerings. The first was the maid café, which, suffice to say, was already well known. The focus of the café’s sales would be drinks like tea, coffee, and so on. Then, there were going to be photoshoots with the maids. The latter was particularly time-efficient and the set price per photo was high, so if there were a large number of customers who wanted to take part in that, we could take in a great deal of income.

The second and third offerings were going to be food stalls set up outside. One featured flour-based foods (such as takoyaki and okonomiyaki), and the other offered Western-style pasta and bread. These food stalls would generate sales on their own, but they would also accept orders made from the maid café. When an order was placed, a student tasked with transporting the food would fetch it from the stall and deliver it to the customer. In order to capitalize on the originality of the maid café, it also had a limited food menu, which was a slight variation on the existing menus already offered at the food stalls.

Then, the fourth and final offering, something we had hastily thrown together with what we had left in our budget, was a quiz game aimed at children. That would be held outside.

“Are you sure it’s okay to let Hasebe-san and Akito-kun go like that?” said Maezono, just as Haruka and Akito had exited the classroom, their backs to everyone else.

“We can’t force them to stay,” Horikita replied. “Let’s consider this an opportunity to test if we can run this smoothly with just thirty-five people—excluding Kouenji-kun, Hasebe-san, and Akito-kun.”

However, those three weren’t the only students who appeared unwilling to cooperate. Kushida had hardly said a word regarding the Cultural Festival over the past few weeks, and she had also been heading back to the dorms immediately after class ended, without offering help. She was aware that she was going to be handling customer service duties as a maid during the festival, and she had gone to Horikita several times with ideas. Some of her ideas had been adopted, although they were minor things. However, Kushida hadn’t participated in any of the practice sessions with her fellow maids to see if they could keep in sync with each other.

Satou went over to Kushida, mustering up a fair amount of courage, trying as hard as she could not to let Kushida know that she was on alert.

“I’d like to do some final checks for the festival tomorrow, and also to practice some of the moves that we’ll be doing… Do you think you might have some time today?” asked Satou.

“I’m sorry, Satou-san. There’s something I have to do after class today that I can’t miss,” said Kushida.

This actually wasn’t the first time that Kushida had used that exact wording.

“You know, you’ve been turning me down like this for a long time now… Are you really going to help out?” Satou asked.

There was tension in the air, and just as Horikita was about to get up from her seat, Yousuke was beside her and stopped her, almost as though he had anticipated her actions. I didn’t know what the correct decision was, but I also knew it was impossible to create a harmonious class if you meddled in every little incident. Sometimes, things had to be resolved by the relevant parties involved. You could say that this was uncharacteristic behavior from Yousuke instead, as he normally spared a caring word for his classmates more than anyone else, but…

Perhaps it was because he felt that Horikita making an unnecessary display of special treatment toward Kushida in view of their fellow classmates would be a bad move. Horikita understood that too, of course. However, she also was faced with a dilemma: She just couldn’t let things be.

“Don’t worry,” Kushida said. “I’ve been keeping the festival in mind and I’m not planning on dragging anyone down.”

“But, Kushida-san, you haven’t practiced even one bit, have you?” Satou protested. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I can trust you with the important role of being a maid.”

Today was the trial run, and thus the perfect time to practice. It seemed that Satou, who had accepted Kushida’s unwillingness to participate up until now, wasn’t going to back down today. However, Kushida wasn’t going to either.

“In that case, why don’t you try removing me from the roster? Even though I can’t really think of any other good replacements.”

It was a brutal statement, but she was correct. Even based on her physical appearance alone, there wasn’t anyone who could serve as Kushida’s substitute who wasn’t already assigned to the role of maid.

“Well then, I’ll see you at the Cultural Festival tomorrow,” Kushida said. “Bye-bye.”

Although she spoke in the same tone of voice as the gentle Kushida from before, there was no denying the fact that her behavior was cold. She stubbornly refused Satou’s proposal and left the classroom. Did she simply not want to spend time with her classmates who now knew her true nature? Or did she really have something to do that she couldn’t miss? The mood in the classroom was clearly getting worse, but even so, there was nothing anyone could do.

Matsushita, unable to bear the sight of Satou looking so frustrated and down, turned to Horikita directly for advice.

“Hey, Horikita-san, I know the show is tomorrow…but don’t you think that maybe we should remove Kushida-san after all?”

“I understand what you’re trying to say. But I don’t intend to remove her at this time,” said Horikita.

“But she’s always saying that she has something to do, every single day. She’s obviously lying,” countered Matsushita.

It was certainly true that Kushida’s recent behavior was puzzling in many respects. The fact that she kept her distance from a lot of people ever since the Unanimous Special Exam was understandable, but even so, her especially uncooperative behavior was quite conspicuous.

“You might be right,” Horikita acknowledged. “I don’t know why she isn’t taking part in practice either.”

“Okay then, in that case—”

“But don’t worry. She’s thinking about the Cultural Festival and the maid café in her own way.”

“You believe in Kushida-san, then.”

“Well, I suppose you could say that if we don’t believe in her, nothing is going to change…” said Horikita.

Though Matsushita wasn’t entirely convinced, she nodded and then turned to Satou. She had been doing a lot for this, perhaps because Matsushita herself was one of the original proponents of the maid café. Although Kushida’s refusal to participate in practice sessions was certainly a cause for concern, Horikita’s demeanor showed that she wasn’t feeling flustered about it. In fact, she was exuding confidence, which must have been backed by something. That was probably why Matsushita decided to follow Horikita’s lead and bet on that confidence.

They didn’t seem like they would be asking me for my help, so I figured I’d just keep an eye on things.

5.1

O N THE FIRST FLOOR of the special building was the stall designated as “Special 02.” This location was normally just a spare classroom. Now, it was being decorated by students. The girls were doing most of the work. As for the boys, if I had to say anything…they were assisting. It was interesting to note that the girls were overwhelmingly better at this sort of decorating than any of the boys were. It was probably safe to leave the setup to them, with Horikita supervising.

Up on the second floor of the special building, in a classroom in the back, preparations for another concept café were steadily underway. Unlike our maid café, the concept Ryuuen’s class were using for their café was “Japanese-style clothing.” Even the food and beverages served were completely different from what we offered, including things such as Japanese sweets, tea, and the like. In the midst of their preparations, I happened to come across a particularly conspicuous certain someone. Even though she was dressed in a Japanese kimono in line with the concept of the café, she was sitting by herself in a chair, reading a book.

When Hiyori noticed me standing there, she lifted her book up, and for some reason, hid everything below her eyes.

“…Hello.”

“It’s been a while,” I said. “I hear you haven’t been to the library much lately?”

“No, that’s not true. I’ve just, well, I’ve been going at a slightly different time.”

I had thought it was strange that a bookworm would’ve stopped visiting the library, but from the sound of it, she just started going at a different time of day.

“I see you’re working too, as a salesperson.”

“I’m handling checkout,” she said. “I’m not very good at interacting with people, so… Well, I’m not very good at moving about either. I tried practicing by carrying food around on a tray, but that didn’t go so well.”

So, in short, she wasn’t very good at any of this in general. But as long as she could smoothly handle whatever came her way at the register, I supposed that was all that mattered.

“By the way, Ibuki-san is part of the staff too,” added Hiyori.

“Ibuki is? I was under the impression she would never, ever wear that kind of outfit.”

“She and Ryuuen-kun had a contest, with the stipulation that she’d be completely exempt from helping out in the Cultural Festival if she won.”

“And she lost,” I surmised.

Hiyori had a somewhat amused smile on her face, perhaps because she was remembering what happened then.

“So, where is this Ibuki who lost?” I asked.

“She isn’t participating today, apparently,” Hiyori replied. “She said that she absolutely hates the idea of wearing the outfit outside of the Cultural Festival.”

It wasn’t as though I didn’t understand how Ibuki felt on that point, but I just hoped she’d be able to serve the customers well when the Cultural Festival came, and she had to perform without rehearsing. Well, I supposed Ryuuen would probably deal with any issues related to that as they arose.

I wanted to check on Ryuuen as the owner of this café, but he was nowhere to be seen. I wondered if he left preparations for the day prior to the festival to the other students.

“It seems like Ryuuen-kun went to see how Class A is doing,” said Hiyori.

“Class A?”

“It’s because their class still hasn’t disclosed what they’ll be doing for the festival.”

That was true—even though the Cultural Festival was tomorrow, there were no details about what Sakayanagi’s class was doing. It wasn’t strange, then, to want to know what their class was going to do. As long as every class was participating in this pre-opening event, it was a given that they’d be getting their things ready by some point today.

“I’ll head out too then,” I said.

Now that my conversation with Hiyori was finished, I decided to go search for Sakayanagi’s class.

“Um, excuse me, Ayanokouji-kun…”

“Hm?”

“Ryuuen-kun and the others went up to the third floor,” Hiyori said, “so Sakayanagi-san is probably there.”

“I see. Thanks, that saves me some time.”

It seemed like she wanted to say something else, but then she immediately shook her head. Did this mean that three of the second-year classes were concentrated in the special building, albeit on different floors?

“I’ll be going to the library again soon,” Hiyori added. “You should too, Ayanokouji-kun.”

“Yeah, sure.”

After giving her a light wave to say goodbye, I headed up to the third floor.

The third floor of the special building was the area furthest from the school gate and was thought to be the most difficult for people to reach on foot. There were three classrooms on this floor available as stall locations, but until recently, they hadn’t been rented out because they weren’t popular spaces.

“I didn’t expect Sakayanagi’s class to have rented out all of the rooms here,” I remarked.

Because Class 2-A had exclusive control over the floor, students from their class roamed about the hallway as they pleased. It was difficult to imagine what they were offering from a single glance. There were several cardboard boxes scattered about, but their contents weren’t visible, and the students were still dressed in their school uniforms with no indication that they were going to change into something else. It wasn’t possible to cook using heating implements indoors, so that idea had to be tossed out too.

“Surprised that it’s not something you expected?” Hashimoto called out to me as he approached. He must’ve been keeping an eye out for students who came up the stairs.

“What’s this all about?” I asked.

“You can’t tell by looking? You, of all people?” Hashimoto chuckled silently, perhaps because he was amused that I didn’t understand. “Well, I guess it’s understandable. But I can’t just answer your question all nicely, can I?” he added with a smirk.

Apparently, they were intending to finish setting things up today, but they didn’t want to make what they were doing public. Almost as if to symbolize this, a piece of paper was put up in the stairway leading up to this floor. It read, “ Due to an issue, Class 2-A will not be hosting its offering(s) today.”

“So, there you have it,” Hashimoto said. “Sorry you had to trek all the way up here, but I’m going to have to ask you to head on back.”

Even if I persisted, I likely wouldn’t find out what they were doing, anyway.

“I think Ryuuen’s going to be headed back any minute now too,” he added.

As if on cue, Ryuuen emerged from the rear classroom and walked toward the two of us with both of his hands in his pockets. After shooting a quick glance over at Hashimoto and me, he walked straight past us and headed down the stairs.

“Or are you going to do the same thing he did and take a closer look, even though you know it’s pointless?” asked Hashimoto.

“I’ll just head back,” I replied.

“Good luck, dude. Hope you’re looking forward to seeing it, once we unveil it.”

Hashimoto remained where he stood and watched me leave. Ultimately, I went back down the stairs and started heading back to our maid café without having achieved anything.

When I reached the second floor, I noticed Ryuuen had stopped moving and had his back to me. He didn’t turn all the way around to look at me and only turned his head to shoot a look in my direction. In response, I looked away, back to the upper floor.

When Ryuuen saw this, the corner of his mouth curved up slightly. “Tell Suzune that our class is gonna win tomorrow.”

“The Japanese-style outfits must have cost more than the maid outfits, am I right?” I replied. “If you were going to go with a concept café anyway, it would’ve been nice if you could worked together with Horikita on it.”

“These are simply what my tastes are.”

Leaving me with a parting shot that could have been taken seriously or interpreted as a joke, Ryuuen walked away. I also started moving, going back to my own maid café. I paid no attention to Hashimoto’s presence, which I could still sense on the floor above.

5.2

S URPRISINGLY ENOUGH , many boys from the other classes rushed to our café as soon as it opened for business. There seemed to be more curious onlookers who were interested in catching a glimpse of the girls in cosplay than there were people actually coming to eat, but I didn’t mind. It would be a valuable learning experience for the maids, since they weren’t used to being the center of attention. Even the normally calm and collected Matsushita was looking a little stiff and nervous.

Satou and Mii-chan, though, were looking noticeably worse than they were during practice sessions. Almost immediately, the sound of plastic hitting the floor could be heard throughout the classroom. A cup of water slipped and fell off the tray Mii-chan was carrying. It was a serious mistake and seemed to kill the atmosphere inside, and Mii-chan, the cause of it, froze on the spot.

In the midst of this, though, Matsushita immediately took action. “I am terribly sorry for the disruption,” she announced humbly.

Then, after gently patting Mii-chan on the shoulder and urging her to calm down in a quiet, calm tone, she instructed her to get a fresh cup of water. Then, Matsushita retrieved a rag and began wiping up the spill on the floor.

Horikita, standing by and watching everything from the sidelines, was deeply impressed by Matsushita’s outstanding performance. “Matsushita-san is quite good,” she said. “It’s hard to imagine this is her first time doing something like this.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “You’re going to participate as a maid tomorrow too, right?”

“I’m basically serving as our publicist. I will also serve customers if the situation calls for it, but… To be honest, I don’t have much confidence in myself, not in that arena.” Horikita answered somewhat timidly. It was unusual for her.

“Well, I guess nobody thinks that you’re good at putting on a smile anyway,” I said.

I was sure that she wasn’t anxious about the act of serving itself, but rather, she wasn’t feeling confident because it was probably difficult for her to offer a smile.

“You seem awfully relaxed,” she said.

“I figure that work on my end is almost done for today.”

My job seemed to be 90 percent prep work, with the other 10 percent spent on the day of the festival. Essentially, all I had to do tomorrow was administrative tasks.

“Maybe I should put you to work in the food stalls too,” said Horikita.

“Don’t reassign people just because of your personal grievances.”

Horikita said something pretty nasty, but since she didn’t really intend to act on it after all, she quickly backed down.

“Anyway, things seem like they’ll be fine as long as Matsushita-san is here, so I think I’ll step out myself,” she said.

“Going on a tour?” I asked.

“I’d like to see with my own eyes what kind of exhibits there are.”

“Take your time and enjoy.”

As for me, in the meantime, I thought I’d go ahead and get to work on creating the space to be used as the waiting area tomorrow.

About an hour later, Horikita returned to the maid café.

“Welcome back. How did things look with our people?” I asked.

“There were a few small mistakes here and there, but everything has calmed down a lot now, and everyone seems to be getting into the swing of things.”

“Thank goodness for this pre-opening, eh?”

“It might’ve been dicey if we had to go straight to the Cultural Festival without this trial run,” Horikita agreed.

We understood that practicing on our own, without any customers or people around, was completely different from actually running the operation with real customers who weren’t from our class. Matsushita, who had been working at full throttle ever since we opened for business, finished up what she was doing and then went off shift.

“Great work, Matsushita-san,” Horikita told her. “You were absolutely splendid.”

“Thanks. Everyone’s been getting better, and I think we should be in good shape for tomorrow.” After saying that, though, Matsushita’s expression stiffened slightly.

“What’s the matter?” asked Horikita.

“Well, it’s just… I thought that there’d be more attempts at sabotage. I’ve been a little concerned.”

“Sabotage?” repeated Horikita.

“Well, we know that Ryuuen-kun’s class is doing a concept café too, right? I was afraid that he might bring Ishizaki-kun and some other guys with him and start saying things like there are bugs in the cups we use or something…”

Horikita and I exchanged looks for a moment, but then we quickly turned our attention back to Matsushita.

“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” Horikita told her. “There’d be little benefit for them in sabotaging us at this stage when we’re having our trial run. Besides, since the rules state that students can’t be customers during the Cultural Festival proper, they wouldn’t be able to do what you described.”

“Plus, there will be lots of people watching during the Cultural Festival, so Ryuuen can’t just carelessly use his usual tricks,” I added, supplementing Horikita’s response. “You don’t have to worry.”

A smile returned to Matsushita’s face after the two of us reassured her, at almost the exact same time, that there was nothing to worry about.

“For some reason, it’s more calming when you two say it.” She patted her chest and let out a sigh of relief. Matsushita must have been feeling mentally worn out.

“You should go on break,” said Horikita.

“All right, I’ll do just that, then.” Matsushita then walked off, staggering somewhat as she exited the classroom.

“Did you notice that?” I asked.

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

Perhaps it was because I had only sensed something slightly off, but Horikita hadn’t noticed anything, even though she was standing nearby. I hoped it was nothing more than my imagination.

“So, how did things look for the other classes?” I asked.

“I don’t know if we’ll be having another Cultural Festival next year, but I learned a lot,” said Horikita.

Seeing the waiting area that I had worked on, she checked it out by touching the walls.

“Seems fine to me,” she decided. “We’ll begin clean-up in another hour, so I think that you should take another look around too.”

“All right, guess I’ll do that.”

With Horikita’s permission, I decided to take a stroll around the school. As though she had been waiting for this moment, Kei showed up and grabbed hold of my arm.

“Let’s go together!” she exclaimed.

“It doesn’t seem like you’d leave me alone even if I said no.”

“Nope!”

“You two are free to walk around together, but don’t forget that it’s strictly for reconnaissance purposes,” said Horikita.

“I got it!” said Kei happily.

While Horikita was very serious, Kei’s demeanor was rather happy-go-lucky. Well, to be fair, I supposed it wasn’t every day that you had an opportunity like this. In fact, even just from looking at our own maid café, most of the other people seemed to be enjoying the festival like normal.

5.3

T HE FIRST-YEARS and some of the third-year classes were putting on a number of exhibits that resembled those you saw at festivals. Some of the more technically challenging ones included things like target shooting and ring toss games, and there was another where you had to drop a marble onto handmade platforms with multiple goal markers that awarded different prizes. The assembly of stalls and exhibits created a scene that looked a bit like a typical festival somewhere else.

“Oh, hey, it’s Yukimura-kun and the others.”

Kei was quick to point out Keisei, Sotomura, and some other guys. They seemed to be busily preparing for the event themselves. Perhaps they had been practicing making food in the dormitories or elsewhere, but they seemed to be handling their duties fairly dexterously. I decided that we shouldn’t bother them with pointless conversation.

“Want to try the ring toss or something?” I asked.

“Yeah! Oh, wow, that plushie is pretty cute. I think I kinda want it.” Kei pointed toward an item as we stood behind another student who was playing the game.

It was an adorable prize, and quite colorful too. However, unfortunately, the ring toss prizes were just for display purposes. Even if I won the ring toss game now, I apparently wouldn’t receive a prize. While the student council did provide a budget for this event, the number of prizes was limited. If students took prizes today, it would probably be difficult to replenish them. On the other hand though, there was a target shooting game hosted by Class 1-B across the way, and they were apparently offering desserts as prizes. If you won, you would actually get something.

The prizes you could win were things as cheap as ten points on the low end to things worth as much as two hundred points on the high end. I was sure that there would be more than just food available as prizes when tomorrow came, but this would allow for a good test run and would be just like the real thing.

“Give it a try, Kiyotaka!” exclaimed Kei.

I went up to the table where five guns were all lined up in a row for the target shooting game, and Kei was gently pushing me from behind. I was simply interested in the game itself, so I was willing to give it a try. We were allowed five shots per play. Apparently, the guns used were a type of toy called a cork gun—a cork was stuffed into them and could be fired.

The individual guns lined upon the table seemed to be more solidly built than I was expecting. The bullets, however, were somewhat distorted in shape. I had doubts about whether I’d be able to shoot them with any precision. I had never even held a gun in my hands, not once in my entire life. I had a vague idea of what it would be like from movies and TV and such, but I wasn’t sure if those depictions were accurate. And because I hadn’t seen any other students playing the game, I hadn’t seen any examples. So, deciding that there was no way around it, I went with what my imagination told me and grabbed the gun in the middle.

“Go for the most expensive one!” Kei shouted.

I’d need to knock down a heavy target if I was going to win the most expensive prize. Now then, how much power was I going to need in order to achieve that…? Well, for the time being, I figured I’d just give it a try. I fired my first shot while Kei cheered me on in a shrill, high-pitched voice.

With a light “pop” sound, the cork bullet went sailing toward its intended target, the heaviest one. However, the bullet traveled a few centimeters to the left of the target without so much as grazing it. I had figured that I wouldn’t have hit it with pinpoint accuracy or anything given that I was aiming by the feel of things, but the bullet’s trajectory was completely different than I was expecting. In that case, I decided to shift the muzzle a few centimeters to the right before I fired my second shot. I thought I had corrected the trajectory perfectly, but this time, the bullet curved off to the right, missing the target.

“This is tough…” I muttered aloud.

As I readied my third shot, other students began to queue up and play too, one after another. I decided to watch how the other students did in order to further improve my aim. However, when they tried to shoot, the other students struggled to hit their targets just as I did. One of the students amongst the group, though, scored a direct hit on one of the weights on the very first shot. The weight didn’t fall over, but they had succeeded in pushing the target back slightly. As I continued to observe the other students closely, wondering if there was some kind of trick to this, I realized that the differences in results were not due to differences in skill, but rather because each gun actually had a different level of performance even though they all looked the same.

There were single-millimeter discrepancies in the manufacturing process for the guns, and then there was the quality of the cork bullets themselves. The combination of those various factors led to unexpected trajectories every time you fired. It was an extremely interesting issue, but at the same time, I could understand the difficulty in knocking the target down in general.

Ultimately, even though I hit my original intended target with my final shot, the target wasn’t something that could be knocked down all that easily, and my first target-shooting game ended in overwhelming failure. However, I came to understand the quirks of the guns themselves.

Okay, so if I try the game again, and this time I predict the trajectory of the bullet based on the shape of the cork, then…

But just as I was thinking about that, I noticed a sign nearby.

“ Only one game per person today.”

And so, I gave up.

“Hah! Even the great and magnificent Ayanokouji-paisen sucks at shooting, huh?”

Housen came out from behind the stall as I put the gun back on the table, smiling like he found my failure amusing. The main theme of Housen’s class, Class 1-D’s offerings was “play.”

“What a surprise. I hadn’t imagined you’d be doing an exhibit like this,” I said.

By that, I meant the sort of games in which adults would think back on their childhood memories and get all fired up trying to win trivial prizes in things like shooting and ring toss.

“When I was a kid, I used to join the grown-ups runnin’ these kinds of stalls to make some easy money,” said Housen.

What kind of childhood did he have…?

“Anyway, I wanted to do an actual, full-blown gambling den type thing,” he went on, “but the school turned me down hard on that one. But hey, even if we’re doin’ target shooting or whatever, it’s practically the same as gambling. This kind of game is designed so that the house wins. This Cultural Festival thing is a one-time deal, so ain’t no way people are gonna be too wary about gettin’ ripped off.”

Housen took out a lighter and put it on the shelf with the targets, and then went over to the players’ side of the exhibit and picked up the second gun from the left. The bullet he fired from the gun in his hands flew much straighter than I expected, and he landed a direct hit on the lighter. It wobbled, but it showed no sign of falling over.

“As long as they can’t get the limited prizes, then it don’t matter,” he said.

“But won’t that keep people from playing for very long?” I asked.

“Nah. Not if we add a little value to the crummy participation prizes and just hand ’em out.”

If the participation prizes weren’t appealing, then even the adults might end up keeping their distance from this game, but…apparently Housen had a plan. The participation prizes in question were peeking out of a basket. He had used a printing press to produce a large number of photographs of both male and female students, which were then laminated and presented as prizes in various ways.

“Figured that for adults, it’d be a good way to show that they were here if we gave ’em something that reminded them of participatin’ in the Cultural Festival,” said Housen.

The fact that many people related to the world of politics would be participating in this Cultural Festival event also meant that some of them would be telling others about their experience, framing it as an act of charity or a community service activity. If they announced that they had received pictures of students, that would also give a favorable impression. Surprisingly enough, Housen had really thought this through.

After parting ways with him, I returned to Kei, who had been waiting for me.

“It was hopeless,” I declared.

Despite that, Kei was grinning happily. She poked me in the waist with her elbow.

“You seem awfully happy even though I didn’t win a prize,” I observed.

“That’s ’cause I got to see your cute side, Kiyotaka. As far as I’m concerned, I’m super satisfied. Y’know?”

“What? Cute side?” I repeated. Nothing good happened at all, though. I didn’t get anything.

“I guess I’m just happy that it wasn’t like the sort of thing you might see in a manga, where the guy wins big with just one shot, or something,” she said. “I was reminded that you really can’t do everything.”

That was true. My way of doing things was based on experience. There was no way I could have done well on my first shot, regardless of whether it had been a toy or otherwise, unless I had some kind of reference from past experience to draw from.

“Is that cute?” I asked. “I get the feeling that people would usually want their boyfriends to look cool, though.”

“I’ve already seen plenty of that,” replied Kei.

She was criticizing me by saying that; actually, Kei seemed to be genuinely happy over the fact that I didn’t win the prize.

As we strolled about looking for other things of interest, I happened to spot Ishizaki.

“Yo, Ayanokouji!” he exclaimed.

“Looks like you guys are doing something a little different for the festival,” I observed.

“I know, right? It was me and Albert’s idea, actually,” he answered.

Kei stared hard at Ishizaki, eyeing him up suspiciously. “Oh, I see. Now how did a lackey like you get permission from Ryuuen? Even though you couldn’t even put together a birthday party?” she snapped.

“Uh… Well, I wanted to make it happen, really… I gave him the offer, telling him what you told me about your conditions and all, and then he gave me a good kick…”

Ishizaki clutched his abdomen as he spoke, perhaps because he was remembering what happened in that moment. October 20 was, coincidentally, both my and Ryuuen’s birthday. Ishizaki wanted to put together a combo birthday party for us. However, in order to make that a reality, he needed to persuade Kei, and the condition that she gave was that Ryuuen needed to apologize to her directly for what he did on the rooftop and bow his head to her. Naturally, Ryuuen didn’t accept Kei’s strict conditions.

“But I’m gonna try again next year and I’m gonna make it happen! Just you wait!” Ishizaki insisted.

“No one’s waiting for that… So, anyway, what kind of thing are you doing for the festival?” asked Kei.

“You curious? You’re curious, right? You two can go ahead and try it out!” said Ishizaki.

All I could see was a desk and some cardboard boxes. The fact that there were some disposable chopsticks and cups laid out on the desk gave me the impression that there was something to eat and drink, but I wasn’t so sure.

“What is this?” I asked.

“You just gotta wait and see,” said Ishizaki, beaming.

Ishizaki instructed Albert to take some items out from the cardboard boxes. He brought out a bag of protein powder and a bag of citric acid powder. Both were things that were commonly taken when people were engaging in strength training, to build muscle.

“This is chocolate-flavored protein,” Ishizaki said, putting a little bit of the protein shake he’d made into two small paper cups. “Go ahead, give it a little taste.”

Ishizaki put a little bit of the chocolate protein shake he made into two small paper cups.

“I don’t want that,” said Kei, refusing to drink it when Ishizaki tried to hand it to her.

“C-come on, don’t be like that,” he whined. “It’s just a protein shake, y’know?”

“I’ve never drunk protein shakes or anything before, and I don’t want to. I’m not planning on getting beefy. Okay?”

Albert took a step forward and muttered something in English. “You can’t build muscle just by drinking protein shakes.”

“Huh? What?” asked Kei, unable to understand him.

“Don’t worry about that,” Ishizaki cut in. “You can’t build muscles just from drinking protein shakes. That’s what Albert said, I think. Anyway, since you guys are here, won’t you give it a try?”

To be honest, I was a little curious to see what Ishizaki had come up with. I decided to take the initiative, so I accepted the paper cup and drank some of the shake. It was probably made by a different manufacturer than whoever made what I used to drink, but the taste did remind me of the old days a little.

“Well, in that case, I guess I’ll take a sip… Blech! Gross!!!” sputtered Kei.

For Kei, on the other hand, this was the first time she ever tried a protein shake. She made a face that implied she didn’t find it quite so delicious.

“Gross? But I mean, like, it’s not like it’s undrinkable, right?” Ishizaki asked.

“I can drink it, sure, but I probably wouldn’t want to,” I answered.

“Okey dokey, well, lemme give ya a palate cleanser then,” said Ishizaki.

He handed us some water, perhaps so we could wash out the insides of our mouths. By the time we finished drinking our water, Ishizaki was ready to move on to the next part of his spiel.

“This one’s next,” said Ishizaki.

This time, he handed us different paper cups filled with a citric acid drink. Both Kei and I mumbled our thoughts after taking a sip.

“Well, it’s citric acid, for sure…” I muttered.

“I guess I like this one better,” said Kei.

“All right, now onto the last one. The one you guys just drank now wasn’t that gross or nothin’, right?” asked Ishizaki.

“The protein shake was disgusting,” said Kei.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Karuizawa. What about you, Ayanokouji?” asked Ishizaki.

“It wasn’t horrible or anything.”

Ishizaki smiled happily at my answer.

“So, hey, get this,” he said. “If you add the citric acid to the chocolate protein shake, it totally turns into a mystery flavor.”

We were handed cups filled with the mixture, and we brought them to our mouths. Since ingesting protein wasn’t a bad thing, and ingesting citric acid wasn’t a bad thing either, I figured it would be like killing two birds with one stone, but…

“Okay you two, take a drink at the same time,” said Ishizaki.

“I’m kind of scared,” said Kei.

“Let’s just give it a taste,” I replied.

Kei and I, almost totally in sync, both brought the cups to our lips. I poured the mixture down the back of my throat. But the moment the drink entered my mouth, the taste that hit the surface of my tongue made me stiffen involuntarily.

“Blech!”

Kei sputtered next to me and let out a yelp. She reflexively spat the drink out right on the spot. She then made an even stronger show of how she felt about it by gesturing like she was going to throw up.

“This was… What even, I just… What?! That’s the flavor it’s supposed to be?! Ewwww!!!”

As for me, this was a taste I remembered. Once, when I was learning martial arts and had a fist driven into my abdomen, stomach acid and partially digested food shot up from my stomach and I threw up. I remembered the smell and the taste that lingered in my mouth after that. What I just tasted was something close to that.

“Ah ha ha ha! That’s it! It’s so funny, isn’t it?” bellowed Ishizaki.

“It’s NOT funny! Water!!!”

Kei shoved Ishizaki as he laughed boisterously and clutched his stomach. She then proceeded to down water straight from the bottle.

“That was… How can I put it? It certainly was a mystery flavor, that’s for sure,” I remarked.

“Heh, I knew it. Even you were a little surprised by it, Ayanokouji,” said Ishizaki.

That wasn’t just because it wasn’t good, though. It was because, honestly, it didn’t even taste like food at all. My merriment had taken a sudden nosedive.

“I was thinkin’ we’d surprise the people who come visit tomorrow,” Ishizaki said. “I’m gonna offer them a chance to experience the mystery flavor for themselves, just 500 points a drink.”

But what really surprised me was… “How could Ryuuen allow this?” I asked.

“He said we can do whatever we want with our own points. I’m just doing something separate from the class tomorrow here.”

I see. That meant that the class rented a space for what they were doing, and Ishizaki booked an extra space to do something on his own. In that case, the expenditure would be minimal. And, well, I supposed that it wouldn’t be surprising if ten or so guests were curious about the experience.

“Ugh,” muttered Kei, “I came out here to have a fun date, but I’m just feeling like I’m under attack right now…”

She continued to shoot Ishizaki resentful glares right up until we left. Kei and Ishizaki’s relationship, which had seemingly improved a little bit, might have gone back to square one.

During my investigation of the stalls, I genuinely enjoyed some of the offerings I saw. After we were finished, I returned to the maid café with Kei. The classroom was filled with students who seemed to be leisurely enjoying themselves, having fun chatting with the maids.

Whenever a student deviated from what was morally acceptable and annoyed a particular maid, Sudou would intervene. He would forcefully put a stop to it and insist that they leave the room. He had the necessary role of dealing with troublemakers, and to be honest, he was really suited for it. Whether you were his junior or his senior, unless you were exceptionally strong, you would have no other choice but to leave quietly if Sudou told you it was time to go.

The roughly two-hour Cultural Festival test run would soon come to an end. When it was done, we were going to discuss with Horikita if we would need to make any personnel changes or additions for the real thing. However, just as I, Sudou, and the other guys started cleaning, Onodera showed up. She had been sent to work at the outdoor stalls and sounded disappointed when she returned.

“Oh, they’re all done in here too? I kind of wanted to see everyone in maid outfits.”

“You wanted to see the maids?” asked Sudou.

“Well, why wouldn’t I? I like cute things too. Besides, I don’t think I’d look good in a maid outfit or anything… I have thick legs.”

“You won’t know if you look good in it unless you try it on yourself, right?” Sudou said.

“With the limited number of outfits, I don’t think there’d be anything in my size…” She said that with a wry, self-deprecating smile, implying to Sudou that it was an impossibility for her.

Because of her commitment to swimming, Onodera had a well-trained body, including wider, more developed shoulders and legs than most girls. There was no getting around the fact that if Onodera were to be provided with a maid outfit that fit her, it would have to be made exclusively for her.

Sudou suddenly crouched down, his eyes on Onodera’s thighs.

“H-hey, what are you doing, Sudou-kun?!” she cried out.

“You’ve got the legs of a well-trained athlete,” said Sudou, his finger on his chin as he said exactly what was on his mind. “I mean, sure, it’s probably a bit of a different vibe from what you’d expect from a maid, but still…”

“Oh my god, I’m so embarrassed!” Onodera’s face went bright red, and she bolted out of the classroom as quick as a hare.

“What’s up with her?” asked Sudou, “She didn’t have to run away, sheesh…”

As I watched the two of them interact, I was able to feel an obvious change in Onodera from up close. Onodera seemed to have taken a liking to Sudou in the time between the Sports Festival and today. However, it didn’t seem like he noticed at all. Perhaps it was because he simply hadn’t had anyone take an interest in him like that before, or perhaps because he just hadn’t picked up on any of the signs. It would’ve been nice if it was mutual and the two of them were on the same page in terms of romantic attraction, but at this point in time, they were both going their own way.

I wasn’t exactly the most knowledgeable when it came to love, but I did know that the best thing to do in situations like this was to just step back, watch, and hope for the best. That was all there was to be done. However, that was exactly why that feeling of curiosity welled up within me. There was a desire to see another result. If I went against the established norm and interfered, would they make it as a couple? Or would they not?

“You don’t get it?” I asked. “Why Onodera acted like that, I mean?”

“What, you mean you do?” said Sudou.

“You know the feelings you have for Horikita? Onodera has the same kind of feelings for you,” I explained.

He blinked back at me. “Huh?”

Sudou didn’t immediately understand what I meant by that because I had worded it in a slightly roundabout way. However, Sudou as he was now wasn’t so dense that he’d fail to grasp the meaning forever.

“Huh? Wait… Onodera, she’s… With me?”

“Yep,” I answered.

“No. No, no way. There’s jus’ no way.”

It seemed like Sudou had tried to give the idea serious thought, but then he denied it, saying that it couldn’t be true. I supposed that was a natural reaction too. No one could look into the heart of another person and see what the truth was.

“Sure, Onodera might not have been interested in you at first, but you’ve shown remarkable growth lately, Sudou,” I said. “It wouldn’t be too surprising if she started to think of you as a potential romantic partner, would it?”

Little by little, Sudou’s face started to harden as he sorted out his thoughts.

“But I mean… Her? With a guy like me ?” he said.

“There’s no guarantee, of course. If you want to know the truth, then the important thing for you to do might be to observe and understand Onodera.”

“But I… I…”

I already knew what was going to come next without Sudou having to finish his sentence. Right now, Sudou had strong feelings for Horikita. That was exactly why I wanted to see what kind of change those unprompted comments I made might cause in him. Would he move closer to Horikita? Or would he be swayed toward Onodera? Or could he end up with a third party that I hadn’t even factored in?

“Ugh, I can’t wrap my head around this,” he said. “I’m feelin’ kinda out of sorts. I think I’ll go check out the stalls now. Try to cool my head a bit.”

I supposed he’d just have to think it over and come up with an answer.

“Kiyotaka-kun… Was that…a good idea?” asked Yousuke, standing beside me. He must have overheard our conversation. “I think you should’ve just left it alone.”

“You think so? I don’t really understand this kind of thing myself, so if what I said to Sudou was careless, I’m sorry,” I said, making a face like I had no idea what the issue was.

A short while later, it was the end of the trial run.

“Good work, everyone,” Horikita said. “That’s it for today. If there are any reassignments for positions for the Cultural Festival tomorrow, I’ll contact you via my phone sometime before 9 p.m. tonight.”

Once we finished cleaning up and putting things away, all our preparations for tomorrow were complete. The students headed back to the dorms, ready for the festival tomorrow, and eventually, Horikita and I were the only two people left in the classroom.

“You know, when I really think about it, I can’t help but feel like there’s something not right about you being a maid, Horikita,” I remarked.

“It’s not like I’m doing it because I want to,” she said, “but there’s nothing wrong with having more help, right? It would’ve been a lot easier if your girlfriend had pitched in too, though.”

“Sorry, but that’s out of my jurisdiction. I’m leaving it to Kei’s discretion.”

Satou and others, me included, had approached Kei and asked, but she refused to be a maid. I didn’t hear the reasons she gave, but honestly, it was probably more because she didn’t want to do anything that would require her to change clothes in front of others, rather than thinking it was a bother or not being good at dealing with customers. Only people who knew about Kei’s past and her body would understand that, however.

“I’m only joking,” said Horikita. “I wouldn’t force her to put on a uniform. Besides, if she wore it and looked unhappy, it would give our guests tomorrow a bad impression.”

“Here, take a look at this,” I said, hanging Horikita a notebook so she could look it over. “I made a few adjustments after seeing the trial run today.”

“Thanks. There don’t seem to be any problems with the schedule that you’ve put together,” Horikita said, looking up from the notebook.

Participants in the Cultural Festival were required to take a one-hour break at some point before the end of the festival, and they had to notify their homeroom instructor before doing so. During this break period, students were forbidden from helping with any festival stalls or exhibits, and their work had to be coordinated accordingly, regardless of whether things were busy or not.

5.4

A BOY AND A GIRL stood facing one another on the roadside path leading to Keyaki Mall. The Cultural Festival test run had already begun by this point, and there were no other students in sight.

“We can finally talk, Yagami-kun,” said Kushida.

“I never would have imagined that you’d just barge in while we were preparing for the festival,” he replied.

“I wouldn’t have been able to catch you if I hadn’t. It’s like you’ve been avoiding me.”

After she had made contact with Yagami back in a classroom, he forced her to move locations because he didn’t want to discuss matters at that time or place.

“The fact that we haven’t been able to meet up was just a coincidence,” he said. “Come to think of it, it seems you came by my room a number of times. I apologize for being out when you dropped by.”

Both of them were smiling as they spoke. If someone were to see the two of them talking, it would look like a friendly chat.

“Were you really out? Or were you just pretending to be out to mess with me?”

“Pretending to be out? Why on earth would I do something like that?” replied Yagami. “There seems to be some kind of misunderstanding here.”

“There’s no misunderstanding.”

Yagami’s refusal to give her a straight answer made Kushida feel like she was trying to grab at a cloud. Frustrated, she took a step forward.

“You threw me away because I’m no longer of any use to you. That’s all it is, isn’t it?” she demanded.

Yagami had expected Kushida to get Horikita and Ayanokouji expelled in the Unanimous Special Exam. Since she had failed to carry out his wishes, and he had cut contact with her, it wasn’t surprising that she believed he had discarded her.

“Do you remember when I contacted you on the night of the Unanimous Special Exam, after the exam ended?” asked Yagami.

“Yes. Of course I do.”

When Yagami called her that night, he learned that Horikita and Ayanokouji had not been expelled at all. Kushida told him that directly. He hung up on her immediately, and Kushida hadn’t talked to him since.

“I’ll be honest with you,” Yagami said. “I thought that you hated me, Kushida-senpai. That’s why I haven’t had the courage to face you directly, and I might have been unconsciously trying to avoid you lately.”

“Stop it,” she snapped. “There’s really no point in trying to lie to me like that anymore.”

Listening to him pretending to act like a junior who liked her only sent shivers down her spine now that she’d seen a glimpse of his true nature.

“My apologies. Well then, could you please tell me about what you went through that day?”

Kushida had already begun to understand that this first-year student she was talking to simply enjoyed toying with her. He already knew everything that happened during the Unanimous Special Exam; he was simply trying to play with her further.

“I’m not going to answer that,” she said.

“Why not? I know, at the very least, that you tried to get those two students expelled, Kushida-senpai. But the end result was that Sakura-senpai was expelled instead of you. What I would like to know are the details of how that happened.”

“I didn’t do anything in that special exam. Sakura-san had the lowest score in OAA and was inevitably thrown out. That’s all.”

Details of what happened during the Unanimous Special Exam hadn’t been shared with anyone outside of the class, and that was why Yagami wanted to know exactly what happened. Kushida tried to push the narrative that Sakura Airi was chosen on the basis of her lack of ability and nothing more.

Yagami, still smiling, placed his hand gently on Kushida’s shoulder. “You mustn’t lie,” he said.

“Lie…?”

“Your routine has changed dramatically ever since the Unanimous Special Exam. You appear to be getting along with students from the other classes as usual, but I’ve done some investigating, and I know that you’ve become distant from your own classmates. In other words, a certain degree of your true nature must have been exposed during the Unanimous Special Exam.”

On the surface, Kushida still smiled at her classmates, just like she always did. But there were limits now, as there was more distance between her and her classmates than ever before. She used to hang out with a small group of girls twice or three times a week, but now that number had gone down to zero.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kushida insisted. “I get along with my classmates like I always have.”

Kushida tried to frame it like he might have gotten the wrong impression from what he’d seen, or that he was spouting off nonsense without any proof, but Yagami just kept smiling.

“It’s no use trying to hide it,” he said. “Your classmates found out everything about your past, Kushida-senpai. And it was most definitely Ayanokouji-senpai who drove you into that corner. Am I right?”

Yagami spoke eloquently, as though he had been watching Kushida and the others fighting in class firsthand. The fact that he deliberately mentioned Ayanokouji’s name and not Horikita’s was also surprising.

“That’s simply your imagination. It’s not really what happened,” said Kushida.

“You’re free to try to dodge the truth, but, well… Anyway, what do you want from me if there’s nothing to say? I have to help with the Cultural Festival, so I’d like to get back as soon as possible.”

“I’m tired of spending time with you, Yagami-kun.”

“You’re…tired of it?” he asked.

“Don’t bother me ever again. That’s all I wanted to say to you today.”

Kushida was suddenly telling Yagami that she wanted to end this.

“So, you want to end our relationship,” he said. “I can understand your feelings on the matter. Now that your past and your true nature are known to your class, I suppose that it’d be pointless to try to drive Horikita-senpai and Ayanokouji-senpai to expulsion, wouldn’t it, Kushida-senpai?”

“I’m not going to correct you on every little thing,” she huffed. “If you want to selfishly interpret the situation however you want, then go ahead.”

“You’re an interesting person, Kushida-senpai. What you said just now was the truth. And what’s more, you yourself are beginning to think that you can throw yourself into this environment. Which is why you want to end this uneasy relationship with me and look forward.”

Look forward . That phrase that came out of Yagami’s mouth stuck in her mind.

“Ayanokouji-senpai aside, have you reconciled with Horikita-senpai?” he asked.

“I’m not going to answer that either.”

“From the sound of it, you were completely won over, huh? I’m a little disappointed, Kushida-senpai.”

Kushida resisted the urge to throw his words back in his face, but anger welled up within her. She hated Horikita as much as ever.

“I—!” she began.

“Oh, it’s all right. Don’t say anything further. I can tell just by looking at you, you know,” Yagami said. His dismissive attitude lacked some of the politeness from earlier.

Kushida couldn’t help but find that unsettling, but she couldn’t afford to show any weakness here.

If anything, Kushida was clearly able to tolerate more than the average student, perhaps because of her repeated run-ins with unusual people such as Ayanokouji, Ryuuen, and Amasawa. While she was surprised that she came to that realization herself, she continued to be tough.

“We’re done, Yagami-kun. We won’t have anything to do with each other anymore. Okay?” she said.

“Please relax. You’re worried that I might go around exposing your past, aren’t you, Kushida-senpai? That’s why you came to check on me, to remind me not to try anything. Right?”

“That’s right. If you were to expose me, Yagami-kun, then word would get around the school.”

“In that case, would you please listen to what I have to say first?”

“You have something over me, but I have something over you too. I’ll tell them everything about you, Yagami-kun. I’ll tell everyone that you tried to use me to get Ayanokouji and Horikita expelled, and that despite the polite face you wear, you do fiendish things.”

Kushida didn’t know if that would be enough of a threat. Even so, this was the only weapon at her disposal that she could use to defend herself.

“So you’re threatening me in return…” said Yagami. “I’ll keep what you said in mind. Well then, are we finished here?” Whether what Kushida said worked or not, Yagami stopped the conversation there and started walking away. “I’m the leader of Class 1-B, so I’m rather busy with all sorts of things for the Cultural Festival,” he said. “If you’ll please excuse me.”

“Don’t forget, Yagami-kun. As long as you keep your word, I’ll keep mine.”

Yagami eventually disappeared from view, still smiling all the while, his footsteps light and nimble.

“…I really hope this is the end of it…” muttered Kushida.

But at the same time, she sensed that this wasn’t over yet. In that case, what should I do? she wondered. Should I just leave things as they are, and wait, and do nothing? Or should I make the first strike?

“It’s no use. I can’t stop Yagami.”

Kushida had challenged and lost to various opponents up until this point, including Horikita. She had to abandon naïve lines of thinking, like the idea that she could handle him on her own, but she was painfully aware that she was all alone. Even so, the situation had changed dramatically. Her opponent was definitely looking down on her. He wasn’t just underestimating her on the surface either. Deep down, in his heart of hearts, he was putting her down. Kushida prided herself on being good at reading into that kind of thing.

“There are things I need to do before I fight him,” she decided.

Kushida knew that Yagami wasn’t the only problem that needed solving. She had no intention whatsoever of going back to being that kind, gentle honor student, but she had to make solid contributions in order to maintain a stable position in her class.

Kushida Kikyou knew very well how to survive.

5.5

I RECEIVED A PHONE CALL in the middle of the night.

“It’s unusual of you to call me, Sakayanagi,” I said.

I could hear her chuckle softly on the other end of the line.

“You might be right about that, certainly. Would you happen to have a few moments for a chat?”

“I wouldn’t have answered if it was an inconvenience.”

“ I see. In that case, allow me to get straight to business. I’m sure that you’re participating in the Cultural Festival, of course, Ayanokouji-kun. My father seems to be doing a great deal of fretting about the possibility that someone from the outside might try to take you back with them.”

“The Chancellor called me a little while ago, actually. He said that I should consider being absent from the festival too, but I had politely declined.”

I probably would have been a part of the Sports Festival in the end, if not for the fact that my own absence ensured Sakayanagi wouldn’t attend.

“Aren’t you afraid? …No, that was a foolish question. Let me rephrase. Are you assuming that the people involved will not try to capture you?”

She was basically saying that, if I wasn’t making that assumption, she didn’t see the point of deliberately putting myself in harm’s way.

“It’s a simple matter of comparing actual harm versus potential harm,” I replied. “If I could resolve everything by simply bowing out of both the Sports Festival and Cultural Festival, then that would be fine. But there’s also a school trip coming up as well. And there’s no guarantee that next year’s Sports Festival or Cultural Festival events won’t also have visitors. It would be simple enough for me to remain hidden in my shell, but I think losing opportunities because of that would be more of a problem.”

“So essentially, you would like to enjoy the time you have remaining at this school and experience it as a normal student would, as much as possible.”

She must have understood what I was trying to say because she more or less summed up my position.

“Besides, I have other objectives as well,” I said. “I don’t want to waste my opportunities.”

“In that case, I have nothing further to add. I think it would be best for you to do what you wish, Ayanokouji-kun.”

I was curious about what she was doing for the Cultural Festival, but I was forbidden from asking her about it. Was she simply trying to win with whatever her class put on, or was she going to abandon the competition? Did she have some other goal in mind? It was possible that she would answer me if I asked, but that was another issue. Whatever choice she made was up to Class A to decide; a third party had no authority to determine what was right or wrong.

“ However, you never know when unforeseen situations may arise. Even if the Cultural Festival is safe, we don’t know what will come next. If you have any trouble, please come talk to me at any time.”

“That’s really kind of you.”

“We can’t have you disappearing before our rematch after all, Ayanokouji-kun.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Well then, I’ll talk to you again soon. Goodnight.” Sakayanagi ended the call right there, avoiding any pointless chatter.