Chapter 9: Courage to Step Forward

Chapter 9: Courage to Step Forward

Chapter 9:

Courage to Step Forward

S UNDAY, the fourth and final day of camp, when we would be saying goodbye. We were scheduled to leave the lodgings we’d grown accustomed to at ten o’clock. The aforementioned match with Amasawa had been set for seven, before breakfast. I woke up at six, got out of bed, and headed to the lobby, which was still dimly lit. With a little time to spare before Horikita and Ibuki would emerge from their shared rooms, I considered the risks of waking up the still-sleeping students as I looked at my phone to kill time. The lobby was still somewhat chilly, which meant that the indoor heating must have just recently been turned on.

“It sounds like it ended up being nothing serious,” I muttered to myself, alone in the quiet hallway as I looked through my messages.

The message that I had received from Nagumo in the middle of the night was a simple one: “I’m not going to say thank you.” I was sure that if Amasawa had committed some fiendish act, the camp would’ve erupted into a terrible uproar afterward, so it was safe to assume that didn’t happen.

Then, as I stared out the window for a while and watched the sun rise on the other side of the glass, I heard a person’s footsteps.

“You’re up quite early this morning, aren’t you?”

It was none other than Tsubaki, from my group, who approached me and called out in a sleepy voice. If this was just simple coincidence, then chances were remarkably high that—

“I’ve heard from Hashimoto-senpai that you’ve been getting up early for the past two days or so, Ayanokouji-senpai,” said Tsubaki.

Since going out in the morning wasn’t especially something to hide, her knowing about it didn’t seem like something to worry about. Even if Tsubaki had become aware of the special training I was giving Horikita and Ibuki, the probability of that information making its way to Amasawa wasn’t exceedingly high.

“Were you looking for me?” I asked.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I was, like, actively looking. I guess I just thought I’d see whether you were here.” Tsubaki was the sort of person who didn’t really act any differently no matter who she was dealing with, but the way she was looking at me was a little curious. “But if you were here, then that would change things a little.”

“I don’t think there’s really any reason for you to come and see me anymore though,” I replied.

“Since that one special exam given to just us first-years has been canceled, yeah.”

That was a special exam where the student who managed to get me expelled would receive 20,000,000 Private Points. It was a phantom exam that only very, very few knew about, partly because Tsukishiro was involved.

“I wasn’t especially interested in the prize money in the first place. However, I’m lamenting the fact that I no longer have the right to get you expelled with impunity, Ayanokouji-senpai,” said Tsubaki.

“That’s a disturbing thing to say. Sorry, but I don’t recall doing anything that might cause you to resent me, Tsubaki,” I replied.

Once again, I tried thinking back on my interactions in my life at school, and nothing came to mind, as I expected.

“That sort of thing can often happen without the person in question realizing it, though. Don’t you think that someone could cause someone to resent them without knowing it?” asked Tsubaki.

It wasn’t like I didn’t understand what Tsubaki was trying to say. It was true that there are two kinds of resented people: those who did things that they knew they’d be resented for, and those who didn’t realize that they’d be resented.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or serious,” I told her.

“Someone might come by, so how about we go for a little walk?” asked Tsubaki.

“It’s still dark outside though,” I pointed out.

It was getting a little lighter outside, but even so, visibility was poor, and it was quite cold.

“If that’s not inconvenient for you, I don’t mind,” said Tsubaki.

“It’s fine, I guess,” I replied.

I was planning to go outside for Horikita and Ibuki’s last training session anyway. So, Tsubaki and I left the lobby and walked out into the cold.

“I thought there would be a lot of snow deep in the mountains of Tochigi, but surprisingly there isn’t that much,” said Tsubaki.

“The temperatures in February can vary wildly. The past few days have been warm, haven’t they?” I replied.

While there was in fact snow on the ground, now there were only a few patches of it on the side roads. The water droplets on the cars and such that likely belonged to the camp’s staff had weakly frozen over, forming a thin, icy film.

“Do you like snow, senpai?” asked Tsubaki.

“I don’t particularly like or dislike it. I just think I enjoy it as scenery, when it falls. Do you like that kind of thing, Tsubaki?” I asked.

“…I think I like it. At least more than you do, senpai.”

Tsubaki crouched down on the side of the road, picked up a bit of remaining snow with her fingertips, and stood up. Then she put the snow in the palm of her hand and spread out her hand before my eyes, showing it to me.

“Could you take a look?” she asked.

When she said that, I stared at the snow in her palm. Since there was only a small amount, it quickly melted away due to her body heat.

“This school is cut off from the outside world. Who is the very first person you want to see if you graduate without incident next year, senpai?” asked Tsubaki.

“That’s a strange question to ask,” I replied.

“Perhaps.”

For me, the only people in the outside world who were more than mere acquaintances were my father and the people involved with him. I had no one-sided feelings of wanting to meet with any of them.

“Probably just family, I guess,” I answered, having decided on a somewhat safe answer that was unlikely to surprise anyone if they heard it.

“Family… Anyone else?” asked Tsubaki.

“Not particularly, no. I don’t have any close friends, so that’s about it,” I replied.

“I see… Well then, please allow me to ask you one more strange question.” Without waiting for my answer, Tsubaki continued asking me questions that didn’t seem to make any sense. “Let’s say, hypothetically, you had an older brother, Ayanokouji-senpai, but you didn’t know about him because your parents hid his existence from you for years. If you were suddenly told one day that he was your real family, would you be able to like him, as family? We’re assuming, of course, that he would be a genuine blood relative in this scenario.”

“That’s a difficult question,” I remarked.

As far as I knew, I didn’t have any siblings. But, since the hypothetical was operating on the idea that one had been hidden from me, that meant it would actually be possible. If that man did have a son other than me…what would I think when I met him, face to face? While I felt intrigued by the initial thought, I wasn’t feeling any astounding emotions rising within me.

“Maybe I wouldn’t really think anything of it. Of course, I think it would vary greatly depending on his personality and the situation, though,” I replied.

If we had been raised completely separately, it would probably be difficult to suddenly accept and treat each other as family.

“I suppose so. I think that I would probably have similar feelings, Ayanokouji-senpai,” said Tsubaki. “But if I knew that the other person had special circumstances and a sad past, I would also want to know them and get close to them. I would I’d want to know more about my older sister from whom I was separated.”

Even though Tsubaki had said “older brother” when she had asked me, she used “older sister” as a comparison in her response. While it could simply be a comparison using the same sex, it sounded like her words came from experience, with strong emotions behind them.

“I’m lost. Ayanokouji-senpai, from this school—”

Just as she was saying this, Tsubaki’s gaze turned in the building behind us. Because the appointed time was near, Horikita and Ibuki had appeared. Kushida was there too, for some reason.

“We’ve been interrupted… Another time,” said Tsubaki.

Perhaps she had no intention of letting other students hear this conversation, because Tsubaki walked back to the building, looking like she was cold. As she passed Horikita and the others, she gave them a slight bow, but she didn’t open her mouth.

“That was Tsubaki-san just now, wasn’t it? What were you talking about at this hour?” asked Horikita.

“We just so happened to have woken up early. Today’s the last day of camp, so we were just chatting, more or less. More importantly, why is Kushida here?” I asked.

“Ibuki-san had thoughtlessly let it slip that we are having a revenge match against Amasawa. Thoughtlessly,” she reiterated, emphasizing just how foolish Ibuki had been.

“It’s not my fault! It’s Kushida’s fault! She cleverly manipulated me into talking!” shouted Ibuki.

“We call that sort of thing ‘listening,’” replied Kushida.

“Shut up! Anyway, it’s no big deal if the audience grows by one or two people,” huffed Ibuki.

“Well, there you have it,” said Kushida, “I heard that they were going to be fighting with Amasawa-san, so my curiosity was piqued.”

“If the two of them have agreed to you being here, then it’s not my place to say anything. But what side are you rooting for?” I asked, since that was where my interest lay, personally.

“As far as I’m concerned, I would find it appealing either way, no matter which side loses,” said Kushida.

Come to think of it, there was that incident with Amasawa during the cultural festival. That meant that, no matter which way the fight turned out, Kushida would be a satisfied spectator. Kushida turned to look in the direction Tsubaki went, though she was no longer in view.

“Your conversation with Tsubaki-san earlier, could that have been something romantic in nature, perhaps? I’ve been thinking about this for a while, but you’re surprisingly popular, Ayanokouji-kun,” said Kushida.

“That so?” I replied.

I didn’t think that was Tsubaki’s intent at all, but it sounded like Kushida had a hunch. Horikita then opened her mouth to speak, following suit with what Kushida said.

“But you are somewhat aware of that fact yourself, right? You’re dating Karuizawa-san, too,” said Horikita, addressing me.

“Let me turn that around and ask you, then: Do you have confidence in your popularity?” I asked.

“Why are you asking me? I’m not popular,” said Horikita.

“At the very least, you got Sudou to like you,” I replied.

“Wait, what? Horikita did?” Tsubaki cackled, teasing her schoolmate. “You and that idiot make a good pair!”

“Stop making fun of Sudou-kun. He’s several times smarter than you are right now,” answered Horikita sharply.

“But I can beat him with my kicks!” shouted Ibuki.

I didn’t really understand how fighting was as a standard of comparison between them, but if Sudou were serious, he would probably be stronger than her.

“Well, anyway…” Ibuki trailed off, looked me up and down, and then spat out her next words with powerful intensity. “I have absolutely nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo clue how you could be popular!” said Ibuki.

And I’ve never seen anyone who could stretch out the word “no” so much before in my life.

“You agree with me, right, Kushida?” asked Ibuki.

“Huh?” blinked Kushida.

“Don’t ‘Huh’ me! I asked you, you agree with me, right? That you don’t think there’s anything good about Ayanokouji,” said Ibuki.

“…Well, that’s not quite true, though. I mean, if you look around you, you can see that there really aren’t any good, decent men around, right? Compared to that kind of riffraff, you can see that he is much better,” said Kushida.

That sounded like a compliment. Wait, no, it probably wasn’t.

“From my point of view, he’s the same as the rest of ’em…!” snapped Ibuki.

“Okay then, if it was between Ryuuen-kun and Ayanokouji-kun, who would you go out with?” asked Kushida.

Kushida’s question rendered Ibuki silent for a while. Then, a puzzled look appeared on her face. Finally, she reached her conclusion and broke her silence.

“That’s like choosing between curry-flavored shit and shit-flavored curry. I wouldn’t pick either,” shouted Ibuki.

Not wanting to get dragged into this, Horikita and Kushida quickly put some distance between themselves and Ibuki, almost like they were trying to escape to a safe haven. No one wanted to hear someone say things like that in such a loud voice. I’m sure that Ibuki would chase after me if I ran away though, so I figured I had no other choice but to be a human sacrifice.

“What kind of comparison is that?” I asked, since I might as well prod her about that part for the time being.

“Whatever. I just call it like I see it,” replied Ibuki.

While to some extent I didn’t mind being compared to anything, this particular simile was a bit hurtful. And I had to wonder which of those I was being categorized under, and which one I wasn’t. Actually, no, I didn’t like it either way. However… I decided to give the matter some thought. If I had to eat one or the other, I would probably choose the latter.

No matter how or how much the taste would be corrected, ingesting a large amount of E. coli would be extremely dangerous. On the other hand, while the latter might cause some damage to your senses of taste and smell, the ingredients were fundamentally still curry, which meant that the negative effects on the human body would be greatly limited. However, it was possible that if the brain determined that it was dangerous due to the sensory input, it could cause unexpected health issues, so…

“Hey, Ayanokouji? You’re spacing out,” sapped Ibuki.

“It’s nothing…” I replied.

Having thought about it too deeply and now feeling a little out of sorts, I decided to just forget about it.

9.1

T ODAY’S TRAINING was just a warm-up exercise, since their revenge match was scheduled for right after this.

“I’ve done all I can do. Now all that’s left is to see how well you fare in a real fight,” I said to the two of them after they had caught their breath.

“Yes, thank you. I’m sure that our chances have improved thanks to you,” said Horikita.

Horikita bowed politely, and then urged Ibuki to say “thank you” as well. Ibuki had no intention of complying though, because she ignored Horikita, turned the other way, and snorted out a “Hmph!”

“I’m not gonna say thank you. I think my way of showing my gratitude will be by making you eat my kicks someday,” said Ibuki.

If that’s the kind of thanks she gave, I hoped I would never receive them.

“For heaven’s sake…” huffed Horikita.

“All right then, I’m going to head on back. Good luck with the rest,” I told them.

“Huh? Aren’t you going to watch the fight, Ayanokouji-kun? I thought for certain that we’d watch it together,” said Kushida.

Apparently, Kushida, who had been watching from a distance, had been expecting me to stick around the whole time.

“If Amasawa finds out that I’m involved in this, it’ll be nothing but bad news for Horikita and Ibuki,” I replied.

If they carelessly made Amasawa wary, then a surprise attack wouldn’t work on her anymore. It would be better for me not to be present, in order to increase their chances of winning, even if it was only by 1 percent.

“I see. In that case, I’ll make sure to watch carefully. I even brought my phone,” said Kushida.

I was sure that Kushida would think of it as an excellent photo opportunity if there were any embarrassing or unseemly moments for anyone involved. Since Kushida had declared she would be a witness, I decided to entrust that role to her. Besides, I had something else I needed to do this morning. It was a little before seven a.m. and there were no students using the park at this time of day, of course. That was why the student I had called to meet me here was waiting for my arrival, sitting on the bench.

“It’s cold. You didn’t need to come earlier than the appointed time,” I remarked.

“Please do not worry about it. I haven’t had many opportunities like this, where you would be the one summoning me, Ayanokouji-kun. It was fun even spending time waiting for you.”

“May I sit next to you?” I asked.

“I left a spot open for you for that exact purpose,” replied Sakayanagi with a smile, seeming no different than usual as she welcomed me.

“Let me get right to the point. I have Yamamura waiting for you in the dog park area,” I told her.

“Huh? The dog park? Yamamura-san? What is the meaning of this?” asked Sakayanagi.

“You hadn’t imagined that I might bring up Yamamura’s name?” I asked.

“You two are in the same group in Social Group, yes? Has her conduct caused some kind of problem?” asked Sakayanagi.

“So, you did know. That Yamamura and I are in the same group, that is,” I replied.

“It’s hardly surprising that I would know,” said Sakayanagi. “Naturally, I had already discovered which groups that students from my class were assigned to when we were on the bus. However, in this instance, I have been committed to sitting back and watching on the sidelines, so I have not participated in Social Group.”

Of course Sakayanagi knew where all her classmates were assigned, what groups they were in—I knew that. For that reason, once I told Sakayanagi what I had to say, there was no way she would be able to talk her way out of it.

“Do you remember what you said to me when we talked in the lobby on the second day of camp? You said, ‘You are in the group together with Hashimoto-kun and Morishita-san if I remember correctly, Ayanokouji-kun. How is Hashimoto-kun doing?’ That was it. You prided yourself on the fact that you saw where all the students from Class A were assigned, that you hadn’t missed a single one of them. And yet, you didn’t mention Yamamura’s name?” I asked.

That proved that Sakayanagi was unconsciously avoiding the topic of Yamamura.

“That’s…” she began. No matter what excuses she made, she couldn’t twist away from the conclusion that she had been avoiding it. “…Yes, I suppose you’re right. I admit that I did not mention Yamamura-san’s name at the time. However, that is no business of yours, isn’t it, Ayanokouji-kun?” said Sakayanagi.

“Yes, that’s certainly true. So I guess you could say what I’m doing right now is sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong,” I replied. However, I continued. Sakayanagi knew everything, so I wasn’t going to follow things up in a roundabout way. “You lost Kamuro. And at the same time, she entrusted you with her feelings. But that doesn’t mean that everything has been proceeding like normal in all areas. You haven’t even finished choosing who to put by your side, have you?” I asked.

A white cloud of breath escaped from Sakayanagi’s lips.

“Yes, it is true that has not yet been decided. Surely, you’re not telling me to assign Yamamura-san to that role, are you?” asked Sakayanagi.

“No, that’s not my intention. There are things that people are suited for and things they are not, after all.” It certainly wasn’t easy to envision Yamamura carrying herself around proudly, backing up Sakayanagi. “The Survival and Elimination Special Exam… Some students are still trapped in that place.”

“…And you’re saying that applies to me and Yamamura-san?” asked Sakayanagi.

“Yes. Yamamura differs from you significantly in terms of what position you two are in, but you’re both standing still and continue to suffer,” I replied.

Neither of them had been able to move on from the Survival and Elimination Special Exam. If Sakayanagi was the light of Class A, then Yamamura was the shadow. You could even say that they were impossible to separate, that they were tied together on an atomic level.

“If this is going to continue weighing on your mind, then you should bring the matter to a resolution,” I added.

“…You say such peculiar things, Ayanokouji-kun,” said Sakayanagi.

“Peculiar?” I repeated.

“I had thought you were only going to be watching from the sidelines from this point onward. Isn’t this excessive charity on your part?”

“Yeah, probably. I was thinking not too long ago that I should just sit on the sidelines from here on out.”

Sakayanagi needed no further assistance. She said that it would be fine to just wait for her to stand up on her own. However, the situation began to change significantly before the special exam, when Hashimoto made his betrayal. That was precisely why I was doing what I thought I needed to be doing right now.

“I’m not really telling you to do anything in particular regarding Yamamura; that’s not my wish at all. You are free to shorten the distance between you two, widen it, or just bid her farewell entirely. However, if you’re going to discuss it, now is the only time,” I said.

Neither side would gain anything by delaying the issue.

“Don’t you think the wisest choice would be to leave everything behind at this camp before returning to school?” I asked.

Sakayanagi pouted. “…But…”

Her resistance was frustrating. Of course, I certainly wasn’t one to talk—we were equally bad at friendly relationships. And as she had no experience, she had no idea what to do.

“Like I said, I have Yamamura waiting at the dog park,” I reminded her. “She’s been waiting for you out in the cold for more than twenty minutes now.”

“If that’s the case, that makes both of us rather mean-spirited, Ayanokouji-kun. Our appointed meeting time was seven a.m. It has not yet even been ten minutes since we started talking. Does that mean that you have been making her wait since even before then?”

Yamamura would be having a tough time, being made to wait pointlessly. As for Sakayanagi, she would feel guilty for making Yamamura wait.

“That was also a part of my strategy,” I replied.

This was Sakayanagi we were talking about, after all. She was quick to notice these sorts of things.

“I suppose I have no choice, then. I cannot very well let her catch a cold on my account. I will go say hello, at least,” said Sakayanagi.

Sakayanagi, who could not admit her own weakness straight away, instead gave an appropriate excuse and stood up. That was fine for now. If she talked with Yamamura one-on-one, I was sure that they’d be able to have a real conversation.

“It’s a bit of a distance, but I’m sure it’ll be only about five-minute walk even for you, Sakayanagi. Head on over,” I said as I stood up.

However…Sakayanagi wasn’t taking the first step.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

She ignored my question, and the silence continued for a few moments. It seemed like she was trying to walk, despite not moving forward whatsoever.

“…My legs…they…” stammered Sakayanagi.

Her legs? Could it be that they hurt? That’s what I thought for a moment, but then…

“My legs…won’t move… Why is that, I wonder,” said Sakayanagi.

It turned out that the problem wasn’t physical, but mental. Even though she was acting stout-hearted in her words as usual, her body told a different story. It seemed like that change I had noticed due to Kamuro was manifesting itself here.

“I suppose you can’t let anyone else see you like this,” I remarked.

“…Yes, you’re right…” said Sakayanagi.

I grabbed hold of Sakayanagi’s left hand, helping her as she was puzzled and unable to walk. The tips of her fingers had gone cold.

“In that case, I’ll be your legs, just for right now. Then you should be able to walk, no problem,” I told her.

“…My apologies,” said Sakayanagi.

“It’s all right. This came from my own selfish meddling,” I replied.

Then, we slowly walked along, without exchanging a word.