2

There’s something Iroha Isshiki wants to make sure of, no matter what.

The lingering light of the sunset seeped out through the glass facing the ocean. On the opposite side, the eastern sky had turned an indigo color like a spill of pale ink, the orange streetlamps flicking on to illuminate the students on their way home.

Though the days had gotten somewhat longer, sunset still came early. Soon, it would be late enough for everyone to head home; the calls of the sports clubs coming from the field were already petering out.

I hadn’t spent very long in the teachers’ room, but it had apparently been long enough for the sights around the school to have changed. In that cramped, partitioned-off space, I hadn’t even noticed the clear passage of time.

Everything had transformed in the briefest time I hadn’t been looking, and now it was all different.

Even right this moment, traveling the short distance from the teachers’ room to the student council room, I could be missing yet another change.

That was why I walked quickly.

There was nobody in the hallway but me; it was filled instead with the setting sun.

The main school building had a lot of windows compared with the special-use building and the new building, but the clear glass made me think of cool temperatures even when the sun was shining. All the more so in winter.

My restless footsteps rang out through the frigid, somber air. They weren’t light enough to call pattering, not confident enough to call clicking, and not rough enough to call thumping—my footsteps just pat-patted along in an almost moist kind of way. I was rushing, my indoor shoes half-on with their heels crushed, so the rhythm sounded a little silly.

But it never stopped.

And that was great progress all by itself. It seemed the conversation with Miss Hiratsuka had made my feet lighter, if even just a little.

I had a clear idea of what I should do, what I should think about. I was excluding everything else right now. I’d already come to a clean decision about a number of the issues in my heart. Those were behind me now. And I’d given up the thing that had been caught somewhere in my heart.

I had one last shot, and I would make sure it counted.

If I could just make this happen, I’d leave everything else until later. Now that I’d established my goal, I would explore every avenue. That was what I had to do now.

As I was striding forward, the setting sun pouring into the hallway came to a sharp end. The seemingly eternal rows of glass had been replaced by the wall of the student council room. The door was shut tight, and I couldn’t hear anyone breathing within, either. The only breath here was my own. I let out a weak huff and quieted my emotions.

I hadn’t seen Yukinoshita or Isshiki for the past few days. The last time we’d met had been the day Yukinoshita’s mother had come around to advise that the prom be canceled. The exchange I’d had with Yukinoshita after that had barely counted as a discussion; she’d just vaguely turned me away.

That was why I would try to calmly talk through this. If I got emotional, then I wouldn’t be able to fix our disagreements about what was right and what was wrong. Well, I doubt that’ll be a problem. It’s okay—my emotions and whatnot are mostly dead anyway. Only the negative ones are still alive, really. Wait, isn’t that worse?

Ohhh, can he do it?! Doki doki… It’ll be okay, it’ll be okay! You can do it, you can do it! Go Go !

I lowered my mental bar for myself by about five hundred million to encourage myself, efficiently resetting my emotions, then rapped on the door of the student council room.

Then I sensed movement on the other side of the door. “Comiiiing,” Isshiki called, her voice accompanied by a patter of footsteps. The door opened right away, and light-colored hair peeked through the crack. A leg appeared, followed by her fluttering skirt, her overlong pink cardigan melting into the sunset.

Iroha Isshiki cutely cocked her head as she leaned through the frame, but the moment she saw me, her expression took a turn that could be summarized in one word: Crap…

“…Ahhh.” Letting out a little breath, Isshiki shot a look of concern behind her, then came out of the student council room and closed the door behind her. Still uneasy, she peered up at me. “So you showed up after all…”

“Uh-huh. Where’s Yukinoshita?” I asked.

Isshiki’s head turned just a notch toward the door. It seemed Yukinoshita was inside. A sigh of mixed tension and relief left my nose. I clenched the pocket area of my pants to wipe the sweat off my hands before reaching out to the doorknob.

But then Isshiki scooted sideways to block me. Is she playing crab here? So I moved the other way, and she mimicked me. What is this, man-to-man defense? The Japan National Rugby Team definitely needs you…

“Hey… You’re really in the way… Um, move?” I said.

But Isshiki folded her arms and planted herself firmly in front of the door. “I do actually have to ask what you’re here for. No unsolicited visitors.” She wagged her finger sternly.

The president’s personality being, you know, what it was, I’d been ready to march right on in, but she did have a point. Normally, outsiders weren’t allowed in the student council room. When you get to my level, you’re treated as an outsider basically everywhere, so I don’t know what to do when someone is this up-front with me.

But for someone, you know, how she is, she’s sure picked a day to get fussy about things… The way she puts her hand on her hip, wags her finger, and puffs her cheeks is also kind of…you know. And cute…

But in contrast with the cunning cuteness of her gestures, I could tell from her posture as she blockaded the door that she wasn’t about to budge. I had to be honest with her, or she wasn’t going to let me through.

“…I came to help,” I said. Though I waffled on how to say it, I ultimately chose the wording that was the most plain and completely correct.

“…” Isshiki seemed a little surprised, staring at me.

Mm-hmm, got her.

I took advantage of her momentary shock and scooted up to the door. “Then I’m going in.”

“Nope. ” Isshiki slid sideways once more, blocking me with a bright smile.

“Aww, come on…” What the heck—is she a gate guard at Edina or what?

I was starting to worry the stalemate would go on like this, but Isshiki seemed to sense that I wasn’t going to back down, either. Her expression softened considerably. “Um…you went to hear about the situation with the prom, right?”

“Yeah, basically,” I answered.

She touched her fist to her tilted head in a mildly complicated expression. She held the position for a while, then glanced behind herself with concern. Then, she scooched a few steps away from the door, only to beckon me over with small gestures. She had to mean she had something to tell me that she didn’t want Yukinoshita to hear.

Maybe I’ll ignore her and go on in…, I thought, albeit only for the briefest moment before she seemingly read my mind and delicately plucked the sleeve of my uniform to lead me away.

I was incapable of shaking off her small hand, so I obediently followed Isshiki down the hall a ways. We turned a corner, then came to the fourth-floor walkway that connected the main school building to the special-use building.

This walkway had a bench sitting by the wall; during breaks, you’d see some students hanging around it, but there was no one else here at this time of day. The area was filled with a silent, chilly air instead, the sunset streaming in from the west side.

I came to a halt by the bench at the wall, and Isshiki finally released my arm, spinning around to face me. When I rubbed my cuff to fix the wrinkles in my sleeve, the lingering trace of heat was a bit ticklish. And hey, I’d like you to not suddenly grab my sleeve. It’s, uh, really embarrassing.

“I’m grateful you want to help, personally, but…” With the window glass at her back, Isshiki hesitated, slightly awkwardly. Her long eyelashes lowered. “But it’s a little hard to let you in now. I mean, hard to let you see each other.”

“Why?” I asked, sitting down on the bench.

Isshiki folded her hands behind her and leaned back against the window. “Honestly, I figured if you came in now, it’d just make things worse. Like, maybe we should give it some time first.”

“Ohhh… Yeah, I guess.” What Isshiki was saying reminded me that she had been there, too, for that argument the other day. Of course she’d be worried, after watching that waste of time and energy. I was a bit worried about facing Yukinoshita now, myself.

Still, I couldn’t back down. “…But if that’s what this is about, it’ll be okay. I do plan to have a real conversation with her.”

“Oh-hooo, verily sooo?”

Something tells me she has some doubts… Her lips were twisted up skeptically, and her eyebrows were locked together. In fact, she doesn’t appear to believe me at all…

It was so uncomfortable, I had to find something else to look at and cleared my throat. “Koff, koff… It’s true, okay… I’ve considered how I should say it.”

I knew full well that touching on dependence or whatever would make things worse. I had to avoid that and instead advance the other issues in question. Even if we were technically at odds, since we had the common challenge in making this project happen, we should be able to have a constructive discussion.

Or so I thought. Hmm, why does Miss Isshiki not seem reassured…?

“How you should say it…? Whoaaa, not exactly doing wonders for my confidence,” she said quite brutally, rolling her eyes.

“Well, that goes without saying.” I hadn’t led the kind of life thus far that would win the trust of others, I knew. So I just shrugged at her.

Isshiki didn’t say anything for a while after that as she examined me closely, but then she let out a weak sigh, dropping her shoulders in a show of acquiescence. Or maybe exasperation. “You’re overprotective,” she muttered under her breath. Then she stepped closer, pressed down the back of her skirt, and dropped into a seat beside me. Resting her chin on her palm and her elbows on her thighs, she tilted her head slightly upward. Her hair brushed her shoulders, sparkling under the streaming sunset. Her eyes seemed to be looking far beyond the window opposite us.

“I think Yukino’s trying to do her best, you know,” she said. “Like, it’s not like I don’t get how she feels…”

“…Well, yeah,” I answered, putting my hands behind me, leaning against the wall, and staring at the ceiling.

Isshiki’s response was essentially correct. When someone is trying to do something herself, what you want to do is stand back and watch.

“But…will you help, anyway?” she asked. When I turned toward her voice, she was still resting her chin on her hands, but her head was tipped my way. It was a truly manipulative gesture, and adorable, too, but deep in her eyes was enough sincerity to give me chills.

“…That’s the plan.” No one would ever see sincerity in my rotten-fish eyes, but I tried to put a little bit of gravity in my tone, at least.

Isshiki paused as if considering my response. “It is…?” she began, her voice taut and quiet. “Even if that won’t be…what’s best for her?”

“It’s not like I’ve ever been trying to do what’s best for other people… Same story here.”

“Is it…the same…?” she muttered, a little confused, and when I nodded back at her, she looked down. I couldn’t do likewise, so I turned my focus to the window instead.

In the end, it’s always like that.

The things I said to people and the things I did were always nowhere near being correct, just a string of wrongs covered in mistakes. I even screwed up my apologies, forever getting the buttons in the wrong holes. That was all I’d been doing over nearly the past year, while time passed inexorably. Before you knew it, winter was nearly over, and the harsh winds of early spring were rattling the windows.

When the sound shattered our brief moment of tranquility, Isshiki’s face jerked up. “But frankly, I don’t think that’ll convince Yukino.”

“Probably not…” I sighed, and Isshiki leaned forward.

“You know she’s gonna shoot you down.”

“Yeah…”

When I sighed again with extra lamentation, Isshiki pushed even closer. “You’re gonna do it anyway?”

“Yeah…” I answered with a sigh of pain this time, and Isshiki tilted her head, mouth open.

“Huh? Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’…?”

Is it that surprising? Oh, silly Iroha-chan, you’ve totally forgotten your manners in this conversation. Well, whatever… But I wonder if our dear Iroha hasn’t forgotten what she said herself, hmm…?

Summoning the full weight of all my indignance, I glared at Isshiki. “You were the one who told me to come help…,” I said.

Isshiki blink-blinked her big eyes at me. Then she jerked backward, hands flailing wildly, and started rambling at top speed. “Ahhh! It was for me?! What the heck, are you trying to seduce me?! So like I don’t mind the special treatment or getting some help when I’m in trouble or whatever but I think it’s way too early for this so please just save it until we’ve figured out the other stuff, sorry.” And then at the end, a polite bob of a bow.

Satisfied by that, I nodded at her. “Yep. You’re way off, but basically.”

“What’s that reaction supposed to mean…? Am I wrong, or aren’t I?” Isshiki huffed sullenly, giving me a dull little glare.

Uh, I mean, this is the right way to react to all that…

Ignoring my weariness, Isshiki touched her index finger to her cheek, suddenly nonchalant and unruffled. “Well, even if it was for me, that’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, I didn’t say that, and that’s not what it was…,” I grumbled, attempting to correct her, but she wasn’t listening.

Finger still on her cheek, she tilted her head with more seriousness this time. “But frankly, I don’t think that will convince Yukino.”

“Yeah… Wait, is this some kind of forever loop? Anyway, can’t you work your wiles on her for me?” I said, putting a little hope into it.

But Isshiki waved a dismissive hand. “What? I really don’t wanna do that… I mean, I just can’t. No way.”

“You can’t? And you shot me down instantly, too…”

Wait, didn’t she just say she didn’t want to? Or did I mishear…? I thought, giving her a hard look.

Isshiki cleared her throat, then for some reason puffed out her chest and declared boldly, “I just can’t. A girl won’t change her mind, once she’s made her own decision… Unless it’s something someone else has decided for her, then she’ll easily change her mind. And if it gets inconvenient, she’ll pretend to forget it.”

“Yikes…,” I added in a whisper, turning my face away just slightly. Isn’t that just you? It’s not because you’re a girl, right? Weakness is not unique to women, after all.

When I turned back to her again, I saw her eyebrows were in an upside-down V. “…Besides, this is Yukino. I think it’s a bit unlikely.”

“Well, yeah…”

If she wasn’t saying it because Yukinoshita was a girl or whatever, but because it was Yukinoshita, then that did make sense to me. We hadn’t known each other that long, but in the time we’d been acquainted, she’d often displayed a pure, rigid determination. I doubted she’d go back on what she’d said before so easily.

Closing my eyes, I folded my arms and hmm’d when Isshiki muttered softly, “She’s really helped me a lot with this, and…I do want to support her.” I flicked a glance at Isshiki to see she was smiling like she didn’t know what else to do. “So I really don’t think I could talk to her for you. Sorry.”

“Ahhh, no, it’s okay. I asked for too much, should’ve thought it through better. Sorry,” I said with a crooked smile to say, Don’t worry about it. She gave me the slightest nod in response. Asking for her help had just popped out of my mouth in the course of the conversation, but she’d really considered it. Maybe I should’ve noticed sooner, but Iroha Isshiki was actually fairly quite pretty rather a good person. I felt bad about throwing this at her and dragging her into this mess.

I really had to be thinking about this myself, after all.

…So then how should I start this dialogue with Yukinoshita? I dunno, she’s such a hassle to deal with… Well, so am I. Actually, I’m even more of a hassle than her.

When your thoughts won’t come together, the best thing to do is improve blood flow to your brain. I massaged my scalp; meanwhile, Isshiki just stared at me wordlessly.

“…”

“What?” I asked, noticing her look.

She shook her head. “Oh, just thinking. You’re not giving up, huh?”

“Hm? O-oh, well, I guess.” It was a meaningless answer just to get through the moment. Between her blunt honesty and open staring, I couldn’t manage much more than some flustered noises.

Isshiki came just a fist’s worth of distance closer, still looking right at me. “Why? She’s personally rejected you, and her sister said something to you, too, didn’t she? Why are you going that far? Normally, you wouldn’t put yourself through so much trouble, right?” she said fervently. Even though she said it like a question, she didn’t give me an opening to respond. If she had, I probably wouldn’t have been able to offer her a clear answer.

With each question, Isshiki inched closer, while I slid away on the bench by a roughly equivalent amount in an attempt to escape. But eventually, I ran out of bench.

“There’s lots of reasons…” Not knowing what else to do, I finally managed to turn my face away.

Isshiki yanked me by the necktie. “Give me a real answer, please.” She forced my head back around until we were eye to eye. She had to have been squeezing my tie pretty hard, as there were wrinkles in it, and her small hand was trembling slightly.

I couldn’t turn away or find something else to look at. All I could see were her glossy lips, pressed into a hard line, and her eyes wavering in the glow of the sunset.

She was so close and so earnest, and it took some effort to move my stiff, heavy lips. “There really are lots of reasons… I don’t feel like I can explain them right.”

But Isshiki wouldn’t let me mince words. “That’s fine,” she snapped. She wouldn’t accept anything but an answer.

But probably nothing I said would satisfy her.

Words are hopeless for the feelings and sentiments I have, which is exactly why it’s so much trouble to figure out how to describe them. I’m sure it’s not the kind of thing we could share, no matter how I tried to communicate it. If I were to try to strictly fit such a nontransparent, undefined, and unclear thing into preexisting words, the whole situation would deteriorate and eventually lead to a big mistake. Most of all, I just don’t like writing it all off with a single remark.

I’d always been making excuses, saying this was for work or for my little sister. Yet again, I had to force some reason like that on another person. Saying it was because Isshiki had asked me to do it would be the most straightforward explanation.

But Iroha Isshiki wouldn’t want that. She was telling me with her earnest gaze that she didn’t mind if I couldn’t lay out the logic. She was saying, Even if you can’t say it well, even if it won’t come together, that’s fine. Just show me your answer.

That’s why I gave a stifled sigh and said it slowly, sincerely, earnestly, with the full acknowledgment that it wasn’t the answer she wanted from me. “…I have a responsibility.”

“A responsibility, huh?” Isshiki muttered, then swallowed softly. She tilted her head, maybe because I’d been so vague, and then nodded. Her gaze flicked upward, prompting me to continue.

Nodding back at her, I hesitantly responded. I thought I’d knotted my necktie loosely, but it felt like it was really choking me now, and my chest was unusually hot. I blamed Isshiki’s grip.

“Even if I’m making things worse, or if there’s dependence, that’s all… Well, it’s my responsibility. I brought it on myself. I know that’s what we’ll wind up arguing about. So I want to make sure the accounts are balanced. I’ve always done things this way, so I can’t change it now because it’s convenient. That’s all it is,” I somehow finished explaining. It was…sort of a conclusion.

Then Isshiki’s hand slid off my necktie to weakly fall. “Ahhh, sorry, that answer was, like, different from what I was expecting, and I kinda zoned out. Sorry for wrinkling your tie.”

“Oh, it wasn’t in great shape to begin with, so it’s fine…,” I said, but Isshiki kept muttering things like “No, we can’t have that” and “Ahhh” and “Aww nooo” as she hastily rubbed at my tie in an attempt to stretch out the wrinkles. She was yanking on it so much, she was making my head jerk back and forth.

But then her hands suddenly stopped.

“Will you make sure to say what you said just now to Yukino?” Her eyes were down on my tie, so I couldn’t see her face. When I failed to respond, she started tugging at it again, as if she was trying to pull the answer right out of me. With each tug, her pale hair bounced, teasing me. It reminded me of a mischievous kitten, and I smiled a little in relief.

“…If you mean just saying it, then, well, basically. Whether she gets it is something else.”

“You guys are both so much trouble, seriously.” Isshiki lifted her head with an exasperated smile, smacking my chest over the necktie. “Personally, though, having the help of the Service Club would be the least trouble for me. So please do this right.” With a hup, Isshiki stood and jabbed a finger at me, then chuckled boldly. With a flutter of her skirt, she spun around and started strolling off. After a few steps, she glanced back, beckoning to me.

So does this mean I’m allowed into the student council room now…?

I heaved myself off the bench as well and went after her.

After I’d followed Isshiki into the student council room, a fragrance hit my nose. It had to be some kind of air freshener. It smelled different from the Service Club room—vibrant, with sweet, fruity notes. No black tea in here.

The student council room wasn’t very big, but it had accrued plenty of stuff over the years. It came off as messy. But among the mess, one area was particularly orderly: the president’s desk, with its aggressive sense of character, and the plain desk set up beside it. A whiteboard was right behind that, where Yukino Yukinoshita stood.

Given the absence of the other members, it seemed she and Isshiki were hashing out their plan alone. The evidence of that was on the whiteboard. Lines of characters in red, black, and blue were scrawled over the white background.

Yukinoshita was having a staring contest with them, but hearing the noise behind her, she turned around. “Oh, Hikigaya.”

“Hey.”

Though she noticed my presence, her reaction was quite unaffected, and she even offered a little smile. I assumed she’d heard about what we were being asked to do about the prom, but she didn’t appear bothered by it.

“How about we have a break, Isshiki?” Removing the stoppers on the whiteboard, Yukinoshita flipped the board to the back, then rolled it on its casters to the side.

Then she immediately started to make tea. She hit the switch on the student council room’s electric kettle, and while the water heated up, she deftly lined up paper cups and got tea bags.

As I was watching her practiced hands with a sort of nostalgia, Yukinoshita noticed me, indicating with her eyes that I should take a seat. She said nothing. Right opposite from her desk, there was a folding chair.

The kettle soon came to a rolling boil that I could hear as I pulled the chair out with a scrape. Isshiki came over to the president’s desk as well, drew out a nicer sort of chair with a backrest, and gently leaned back into it.

Eventually, Yukinoshita quietly offered us black tea, poured into cups that were different from the ones we used in the Service Club. I accepted mine with gratitude, an unfamiliar scent rising from the foreign paper cup.

“Have you heard?” Her question was brief and lacking in specifics, but right here and right now, there was only one thing she and I could be talking about.

“Well, yeah. Since I was with Yuigahama.”

Yukinoshita looked at me with mild surprise, but only for an instant, as her face immediately regained its earlier composure. “…I see.”

“And I heard the details from Miss Hiratsuka. Are you guys okay? If there’s anything I can do, I’ll help, but…”

Yukinoshita brought her paper cup primly to her lips to moisten them and answered smoothly, “There’s not much need to worry. I’ve considered my options.”

Our exchange was cool, in contrast with the tea in my hands. Isshiki seemed uncomfortable, twisting around. She glanced over at me. Her eyes were saying, Have a real conversation.

But hold on a bit here. With conversation, there’s flow, context, order, timing, mood, courage, and all sorts of other things. Conversation is way too hard for anyone, isn’t it? Even now, I was trying to fumble my way into saying my piece, but she was rejecting me right from the start. First, I had to search for an in, then expand the discussion. I really do suck at this stuff.

Blowing on my paper cup, I considered how to broach the subject. The tea was cooling gradually, bit by bit, so I took my sweet time sipping at it, and once it was at the point where even I could drink it, I muttered, “What do you plan to do?”

Yukinoshita gave me a long look, almost searchingly. “…We’re still at the review stage. It’s not enough to discuss.”

Still under review, huh…? What a thing to say, after writing all that on the whiteboard. Isshiki must have thought the same thing. For an instant, her gaze flicked over to Yukinoshita.

From what I imagined they’d scribbled on the board, they’d already decided on the general direction, and she just didn’t want to tell me, so she was dodging the question.

Had she moved the board deliberately to get it out of my sight? Trying to force her to admit as much would be a poor move.

So the standard tactic would be to approach from another angle. It was quite apparent I wouldn’t get anywhere just talking with Yukinoshita like this.

Angling my head to Isshiki, I directed the conversation to her instead. “Is there anything I can do?”

Isshiki’s gaze went up and to the left, but she answered without looking at Yukinoshita. “…I can’t really think of anything right now.” I couldn’t quite figure out if she was bluffing or not.

But the rest of the student council wasn’t there, and judging from the lack of panic in the room, I could believe there weren’t really any pressing tasks at hand.

“So put another way, that means you still can’t get any actual work started…,” I muttered.

“Of course,” Yukinoshita replied dispassionately. “We were only just given the order today.” Considering she was saying this was fresh news, I couldn’t sense whether she was particularly upset. She’d probably realized what the term self-restraint meant, and that granted her a bit of composure.

The school administration had demanded that they exercise self-restraint, and Yukinoshita would have taken that just as I had. Having a topic in common is the spice that energizes a conversation. I’d use this as the first step to expand the discussion.

I returned my attention to Yukinoshita. “But you figure you can make a move here, huh? Well, yeah. All they really did was ask that you exercise self-restraint. Worse comes to worst, you could technically refuse.”

The school administration had been the ones to use the term self-restraint, and that was also Miss Hiratsuka’s way of getting a concession. The subject of “self-restraint” was “self,” implying making a decision using your own judgment. Essentially, it was tacitly indicating they weren’t forcing the decision to cancel the prom.

Yukinoshita and Isshiki must have been planning to take advantage of how the cancellation hadn’t been made explicit, deliberately misunderstanding it to make things worse. They were taking the most self-interested interpretation of the news, so they had the final say.

Of course, Yukinoshita grasped what I was getting at. With a wry smile, she opened her mouth to say, “Though I would very much prefer to avoid that.”

“Using ‘self-restraint’ against them is fine,” I said. “But just hinting that you’re planning to carry it out anyway isn’t going to get them on board.”

“I understand that. What I intend to do is have a discussion based on that fact,” Yukinoshita answered, without so much as an eyebrow twitch.

Of course, I don’t think she’d just muscle her way through. Going off the rails would be the nuclear option, limited to one use only. If they wanted to have a prom the following year as well, they couldn’t do anything reckless.

Her aim was brinkmanship diplomacy through implying the use of force. They were going to make a threat: We’ll hold it but not under school management, without any of your oversight. It’ll be even worse than what you anticipated. Are you okay with that? They weren’t actually going to do it, but they planned to insinuate it and seek a concession. It was a pretty brutal force tactic, but it did still leave room for negotiation.

The issue was what cards they would bring to the table afterward.

I rose from my seat and went to the whiteboard that had been pushed up to the wall. Yukinoshita sighed a little but didn’t move to stop me.

Drawing the whiteboard close to me, I spun it around.

I’d only been able to get a brief glance at it before, but I found more or less what I expected—the plans moving forward that Yukinoshita and Isshiki must have thought up and their new direction for the prom.

They must have been having a pretty heated discussion, as the whole entire board was covered in an intense written dispute. From the jumble of characters, it looked like both of them had contributed. The careful rows of characters in orderly horizontal lines, though with lots of question marks, had to be Yukinoshita, while the enthusiastic scrawls going in every direction with a noticeable number of exclamation points seemed to be Isshiki’s.

From what I could tell, they’d both put forth ideas, countering each other in an attempt to come up with better plans.

“You two were thinking together?” I asked.

“More like I was shooting down Yukino’s ideas, and she was trashing mine as we went along…,” Isshiki said.

“Ahhh. Constructive.”

Given the current deadlock, starting with two plans was worthwhile—so at least they would choose one of them or come up with a compromise. You’d never make progress if you never proposed an alternative and just kept objecting to every single suggestion. Creating an opposing framework is what enables you to push a discussion forward. If you just argue over whether you can do it, you’ll always wind up concluding that you can’t.

So I looked at the whiteboard, wondering what they settled on.

Hmm, where’s the conclusion here? It did seem like they wrote down a lot of stuff, but the board was like a lot of people’s class notes—incomprehensible to anyone but the person who wrote it.

“…So what were your conclusions?” I asked.

“Ummm…the parts that have red circles around them,” Isshiki told me.

“Hmm.” As I gave the board another once-over, I saw the scribbled circles and scanned them in order.

Fancy, wholesome, dress code, guidelines, official, no uploading, OK!

That was all.

“Hmm… I basically get… Wait, no, I don’t…” Huh? The heck is this? Some kind of riddle? I, like, almost get it, but also not… But what does it all meeeeean? And so I turned to them, requesting an explanation with my gaze.

Yukinoshita traced the rim of her paper cup with her fingers, gaze dropping to the ripples in her tea as she let out a little breath. “You came in while we were in the middle of putting it all together.” She wasn’t accusing me, just stating the facts, so I didn’t quite know what to say. It was true she’d been standing in front of the whiteboard right before I’d entered the student council room. Had she really been just finishing things up?

“Oh…well…sorry,” I said, apologizing for getting in the way, and Yukinoshita shook her head as if to say, Don’t worry about it.

To shake off the slight awkwardness, I cleared my throat and asked out loud this time, “So what does this mean, exactly? I have no clue.”

This time, Yukinoshita hesitated, a bit uncomfortable about it. “…I told you it’s still under review, didn’t I?” But once that was out of her mouth, her gaze slid away, and her lips closed. Well, Yukinoshita didn’t want me in on this, so I doubted she was going to explain in detail now.

I glanced over at Isshiki. Okay, ready, set, Iroha-chaaan? But she did not seem nearly so enthusiastic

“Ummm…to really boil it down, it’s like, we make guidelines for the dress code? I guess?” Isshiki turned to Yukinoshita.

Unsurprisingly, Yukinoshita couldn’t stand leaving the explanation unfinished, and she opened her mouth with great reluctance. “We intend to restrict clothing that’s too excessive or revealing, and we’ll make arrangements with a rental costume vendor and introduce students to them in order to create a lineup.”

“Ohhh, huh…”

That made sense. By establishing a certain standard for clothing beforehand, they meant to guarantee the students would be dressed appropriately. I’m sure most of the students would be renting outfits, so those would automatically meet student council guidelines.

But you wouldn’t necessarily have every single student going along with that. “What about people who get their own?” I asked.

Drawing circles with her index finger, Isshiki replied smoothly, “We figure if everyone else is picking more conservative dresses, they might lean that way themselves so they won’t be the odd one out.”

“Ahhh, the pressure of conformity.”

“That’s the worst way to put it…” Isshiki shot me a weary, aggrieved look.

Uh, but that’s literally what you said…

Still, it’s not like absolutely everyone would pick up on those social cues. In any era, there’s bound to be some Seventeen CosmoGirls with Vogue thoughts in their heads who will be thinking, like, You’re different, and it’s time for you to shine! Set yourself apart with the ultimate super-hot, just-a-bit-sexy fashion! A whole week of mix-and-match prom looks! If you want to do prom for a whole week, you’ve got glitter for a brain.

“There’s gonna be people who want to stand out, though, since it’s a big occasion. They’ll dress that way on purpose,” I pointed out.

“I’m sure. We have plans for such contingencies as well,” Yukinoshita answered briefly, but she didn’t say anything more.

However, the clues at hand led straight to the correct answer. “…Would anyone actually obey the rule of no uploading to social media?” I asked, tapping the item written in smaller characters from the rest. Maybe it was an issue of space near the bottom of the board, or maybe it was lack of confidence.

At that, Yukinoshita let out a dismal sigh. “Well, it will be worthwhile to say that, just to caution them. It is unlikely, though.”

Isshiki, on the other hand, was rather gleeful as she remarked, “Even if they do break the rules and something happens, that’s their own responsibility, right? They’re all old enough.”

I mean, people are talking about lowering the age of majority and stuff, so I guess you could treat an eighteen-year-old as an adult… But I just know there’s going to be complaints, I was mentally grumbling.

“However,” Yukinoshita added, “we understand that forbidding this behavior won’t ensure they’d understand. And so instead, we’ll be hiring an official professional photographer. We’ll have them sell prints and data.”

“You don’t get many opportunities to have professional photos taken, after all,” added Isshiki. “We figured it could work as a fun bonus.”

“Huhhh, you think…?”

Isshiki was smugly chuckling and apparently rather proud of herself. It seemed that for girls, there was a demand for pretty pictures.

It wouldn’t be too difficult to arrange to have a photographer there to sell photos. These days, I hear some schools ban parents from taking photos at school events, and the school sells them instead. Basically, you could consider this something similar.

Apparently, in previous generations, you’d have a photographer going along for every event, like field trips and outings and such, and the school would officially sell photos. Maybe the idea would go over well with the parents. I also hear sometimes back in the day kids would use that to try to get photos of their crushes when they wrote out the numbers of the ones they wanted to buy on the envelopes. Then their classmates would find out and casually be like, But you’re not in that picture, though? Then it would turn into a class rumor and merciless teasing, and then the next day, they’d get a rejection before even reaching the confession stage. If you’ve ever experienced something like that, then you could get them to understand without having to really explain about the photo sales… I guess you don’t need that rejection experience, huh?

Anyway, this plan concocted by Miss Capable but Clueless and Miss Crafty Crook—establishing the official protocols, bringing up the argument that it’s ultimately your own responsibility, and if complaints and grievances came up, deflecting attention to the advantages—seemed to be functional, in its own way. Setting aside whether that would be enough to convince the student body, it would work as an excuse to the parents.

Their plans did indeed make sense. At the very least, they seemed worthwhile for the purpose of putting a Band-Aid on the areas the parents had complained about.

Staring at the whiteboard, I let out a sigh. “I see… It’s not bad.”

“Thank you,” Yukinoshita replied briefly.

Actually, even if it was just an outline, it was impressive they’d thought it up in such a short time.

But there were still plenty of holes. “So how good are the odds on this?” I asked, rapping my knuckles on the whiteboard, and Isshiki was silenced with an urk. She made a face at me instead.

But Yukinoshita didn’t even twitch an eyebrow. “Decent enough,” she replied evenly. “We’ve considered their requests and constructed a road map to actualizing them. I believe the odds are not at all low.”

“Well, I guess. If you accepted just about all their demands, then you’d get the okay… Normally.”

But I knew it wouldn’t go like that.

This time was not normal.

The purpose of the opposition’s complaints was to get the prom canceled. They weren’t making stipulations to have them fulfilled or to improve the event. It was possible they wouldn’t accept any proposal, no matter how many concessions we made. And if we wanted to clear that problem, we would need another move.

And that move was where Yukinoshita and Isshiki’s weaknesses lay.

To think of it another way, this was where there was room for me to intervene.

Up until this point, I’d been waiting for my moment to bring that up as I examined Yukinoshita’s course of action, but if I was going to say my piece, now was the time. When I glanced at Isshiki, she noticed and gave me a little nod.

“Let me ask something, Yukinoshita,” I said. She shot me a skeptical look.

“…Ah, I’ll be over there.” Isshiki pretended to sense we wanted her to go, and she tried to stand from her seat.

But Yukinoshita stopped her. “Wait. This is about the prom, isn’t it? Then it would be best for you to be present as well, Isshiki.”

“Ahhh…yeah, I guess so,” Isshiki said vaguely as she gave me a sidelong glance. I nodded to let her know I didn’t mind. Isshiki wasn’t entirely happy about that, but she sank back into her seat.

I got that Yukinoshita didn’t want me interfering. I’m sure she wanted to avoid even talking to me in person at all, now. I could understand the psychology behind wanting to sandwich Isshiki between us. But Yukinoshita had to also be thinking that having someone else here would make it harder for me to talk.

That meant I’d just have to brace myself for that. “…Can I help you with the prom?”

Yukinoshita seemed surprised that I would ask so directly, her eyes widening. Then she looked down, and her mouth opened, about to say something.

I cut her off before she could. If I just waited for her to answer, I’m sure she’d say the same thing as before. So I quickly explained my logic to keep her from doing that. “I think your plan actually isn’t bad, but there’s a lot of uncertainty. You should be considering an alternative, too. And since I’m shooting down your idea, I’ll come up with something, too.” And yes, I know this wasn’t what I had planned on saying to her. But I had to say something, or I would choke.

“This situation is what it is,” I continued. “I’m not going to pull anything. I’ll ultimately operate under your instructions, and you can just think of me as your side advisor for coming up with ideas. So then it’ll be the same as giving instructions to Isshiki and everyone else, right? It’s been like that most of the time before, too. This is no different.”

Yukinoshita bit the edge of her lip, listening in silence. Her gaze was trending downward, focused on her hands, and I couldn’t detect any anger or sadness in it. It was like she was trying to keep her emotions in check. “…Yes, I’m sure it would be no different from before.”

“So then—,” I began.

“Then ultimately,” she interrupted, her eyes still downcast, “I’ll be entirely relying on you…” Though her tone was quiet and calm, the clear resignation there would make your heart clench to hear.

Yukinoshita lifted her head with a weak smile. Gently, as if admonishing a naive child, she laid out her case. “That’s why I want to change that. You understand what my sister was trying to say, don’t you?”

“…Yeah.” My head dropped, and I let my eyes fall.

I don’t think I was the only one who understood the word codependency—she did, too.

And she was not okay with it. She was trying to correct this mistaken relationship and to stand on her own two feet.

While I, on the other hand, couldn’t even question whether it was right or wrong. I was just pontificating with vague, empty nonsense that sounded good. I was fixated on this warped, deadlocked relationship.

“But…I think I should take responsibility for that, too. It’s not only the fault of just one person,” I managed to finish saying, and when I looked up again, my eyes met with Yukinoshita’s. Her face was twisted up in pain, but her gaze slid down, and her chin fell. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything more.

But I felt like I had to get this out now, or I never would. I was fully aware of what a hassle I was, how gutless, how pathetic.

So even if it was really, really, really hard to say and I really didn’t want to say it, I had to. “You’re right. Maybe it’d be fine if I didn’t do anything this time. But that won’t solve the underlying issue. If the way we’ve been doing things has been a problem, then we look for another one. We find a different method, a different way of thinking about things, a different way of interacting…”

Isn’t there a better way to put this? I thought, searching for the words, but times like this are when my reasoning and self-consciousness really screw with me. The moment I gave voice to all those vague, hazy things inside me, they gained form and shifted away from the truth. I was frustrated, as I realized I was clenching my fists underneath the desk. Relaxing them, I rubbed my sweaty palms on my pants.

I didn’t know if this would help her hear me.

“So…no matter how it turns out, I want to take responsibility for it.”

And I didn’t care.

“So…I want to…save you.”

This was for my own sake. I just wanted to say it; I just wanted to get it out. Really, I was just shoving my own desires on her. Being aware of that, I couldn’t face her.

“…Thank you. But it’s fine now… The sentiment is enough.” Her soft voice, quiet as snow falling in the middle of the night, was so beautiful and transient. There was a strength in it that made it hard not to look at her. Her expression was so peaceful, my breath caught at how lovely her smile was.

In a quiet like blooming frost, Yukinoshita continued in a fragile voice. “The root cause is me. I’m always leaving everything to you and Yuigahama… That’s why we’re stuck in this halfway stage. I have to settle this, or nobody will be able to move forward. The one who should take responsibility is me.”

“…That’s not true. I have responsibility, too,” I said, my throat tight, but Yukinoshita lowered her eyes with a tiny shake of her head.

I gritted my teeth, wondering how I should respond to her rejection, when Isshiki cut in. “Um, is that what this is about?” she complained, giving Yukinoshita and me a scornful glance.

Neither of us could reply to that question. At this rate, no amount of conversation would bring us to a conclusion. Our opinions would never reach a consensus. Yukinoshita and I knew this, which was why we both chose silence.

In the end, I couldn’t really reach her.

I needed words to have any chance of getting this across to her, but it wasn’t enough. I’d learned that painfully well over the past year. It’s arrogant to say a conversation is all you need to understand each other, to get each other—and if you seriously think you have a shot at understanding without words, that’s pure fantasy.

That’s why I can never make up my mind what words to pick. It’s why I worry about phrasing and ramble on and on about things that don’t matter. It’s why, in the end, I can’t say a single word of what matters.

But what I wanted to communicate to her wasn’t words. Words just didn’t work for this.

So then the answer was simple.

I had my way of doing things—our way of doing things.

“Fine. I won’t say any more. I won’t help you,” I said, rather brisk and unequivocal for me. In the corner of my eye, I saw Isshiki was a bit surprised, as she let out a little puff of air.

Yukinoshita gave me a peaceful nod in return, wearing a faint smile of something like relief.

I’d known what her answer would be. But I’d had to say that, to make sure. I’d had to make our respective positions clear, or we’d be stuck here forever.

I grinned mirthlessly. “…But I’m not saying I won’t oppose you.”

“Pardon?” Isshiki tilted her head.

Yukinoshita was speechless and a bit confused, but she seemed to realize what I was getting at, her eyes narrowing.

I responded with an ironic smile, raising loosely clenched fists in an unassuming manner in front of my chest. “When you and I fail to find common ground, there’s only one thing we’d do, right?” This had been the only idea I’d sort of vaguely come up with during my conversation with Miss Hiratsuka.

If a dialogue with words wouldn’t cut it, then I just had to demonstrate with action.

“I’m already in for a penny, so I wouldn’t feel right about it if the prom didn’t happen,” I said. “But I can’t agree with the way you do things… So I have no choice but to do it myself.”

“Are you being serious?” Yukinoshita squinted at me, and I nodded back at her.

Though it was one-sided, it was logical, as an excuse for me to be involved in the prom. If I bowed out completely, it would be a denial of how our relationships had been, the way the Service Club was.

So I had to try—to prove our time together had not been codependency.

In bringing that to an end, I think for the first time, we could establish a healthy relationship for ourselves.

“The competition still isn’t over,” I said. “There’s no need for the whole Service Club to be doing things the same way. So I don’t mind if you take a different approach. Or am I wrong?” I knew she’d said something similar to me before, too. She’d remember that, too.

She lowered her eyes and bit the side of her lip. The core of the reasoning when the two of us had clashed, the framework of competition, hadn’t changed. Meaning it should still be in effect.

I waited for an answer, but all I heard was a shallow sigh. She was agonizing over it but not giving me anything clear.

“I think it’s fine,” Isshiki said with a sigh, the still-silent Yukinoshita in the corner of her eye. “I don’t care either way. If we make the prom happen, I’m not going to question how. And even the stuff Yukino’s saying won’t be an issue, then, right?” Isshiki sounded mildly detached.

Yukinoshita was struck speechless.

A long silence followed. Or maybe the silence was her answer.

I sighed.

Unsurprising. Even if I bring up the competition now, she won’t get on board… She might be competitive, but she’s not that simple.

But whatever Yukinoshita’s answer was, my stance would not change.

“…Well, I’m not trying to ask permission here. I’m just going to do it. So just be aware.” This wasn’t even a negotiation to begin with. More accurately, this wasn’t formatted like one. This was an announcement, that’s all.

Yukinoshita was smart, so she would pick up on that. She sighed weakly as she chewed her lip. She closed her eyes like she was in pain, then touched her hand to her mouth in a thoughtful gesture.

The soft sound of her breathing was lost in the silence. But this was a different kind of quiet from her earlier wordlessness. This silence wasn’t a rejection—I could sense that it was a blank canvas for the purpose of moving onward.

Yukinoshita’s fingertips stroked the thin line of her lips before she released a faint sound somewhere between a sigh and a mutter.

“Now…” I don’t think she meant to say that out loud; her words were lost in the calm silence and vanished like mist.

When I leaned forward to ask her to continue, she slowly opened her eyes. The tension was gone from her harsh expression, the peace returned to her eyes.

Beautiful like frozen blue-white flame, but ephemeral. Her pure, dignified expression made my breath catch. I forgot to ask what she was going to say. I couldn’t even look away.

“The one to win this competition will do whatever the other says… Are you…all right with that?” she asked. A sharp light shone in her blue-tinged eyes. Before, she had been almost brooding, but now she was looking straight at me.

I met her gaze firmly and nodded back. “Yeah, I’m all right with that.”

It had been such a long time since I’d felt this, it gave me goose bumps—we’d had an exchange like this before. The familiarity of it brought a sigh of relief out of me.

The air relaxed.

Meanwhile, Isshiki muttered, “Huh? What’s that supposed to be? Ew.”

“Hey.” When I shot her an accusatory look, she awkwardly lowered her head.

“I mean, it is a little gross, and I don’t get what you guys even mean… And, like, you’re acting super smug about it.” Isshiki was being really unreasonable with this string of complaints.

My expression was turning sour as I thought, Seriously, Isshiki…

That was when I heard a sudden chuckle.

“Yes, perhaps it is a little gross.”

I looked over to see Yukinoshita, who apparently found all of this amusing. It felt like it had been a long time since I’d seen that carefree smile, like a flower blooming.

“Right?” said Isshiki with a nod.

It snapped the tension inside me, too, and I found myself going slack. “Listen…”

“It’s a joke. But that was how it began, wasn’t it?” Yukinoshita lightly cleared her throat to hide a chuckle, but the smile still lingered in her eyes.

Somehow gleeful and challenging, she turned her full attention to me. “So to confirm. We’ll make the prom happen—I with my own methods, and you with your own. And whoever wins our competition can tell the other to do one thing, is that correct?”

“Y-yeah…” I offered a dazed response, and Yukinoshita nodded in satisfaction. I was just sort of staring at her smile of determination, my mouth half-open.

Yukinoshita must have felt dubious about my silence, as she gave me a look. “Was there something else?”

“Oh, no, I’m just, like, a little surprised you’d say yes…” Not sure how to put that, I glanced over to Isshiki to get her agreement.

But she didn’t know anything about this competition stuff, so maybe that was why all I got was a grumpy phew and a shrug.

“It’s nothing particularly mysterious,” Yukinoshita said calmly, brushing the hair off her shoulders.

Well, it sure was to me.

As I was tilting my head, a proud smile suddenly filled her face, and she answered the riddle teasingly. “Didn’t you know? I’m the competitive type.”