3

Yui Yuigahama continues to stand back and watch, to the end.

After leaving the student council room, I dragged myself along on leaden legs. The exhaustion of the long, long day weighed heavily on my body and my heart.

When I emerged from the school building, the sun had already set, and the coldness of the night soaked into me. A full-body shiver ran through me under the blowing wind, then I put on the coat I’d been carrying in my arms. A seeping sense of fatigue coiled around me, and even lifting my arms to wrap the scarf left hanging from my neck was too much trouble to bother. Fashion-wise, I was in the old Takanohana-oyakata style.

Shuffling to the bicycle parking lot mostly unconsciously, I suddenly realized something. Oh yeah, it rained this morning, so I took the train. I trudged back to the school gates.

But then on my way, I found Iroha Isshiki running along, skirt fluttering.

She seemed to notice me, too. She rushed up to me before I could call out to her, then immediately hit me with the poff of a mitten punch in the side.

“Ow…” She was wearing fuzzy mittens, so it didn’t really hurt, but she was so grumpy I had to offer a little oof, to be polite.

But of course that didn’t improve her mood; her eyes were ice-cold. “Are you stupid? Why are you making things worse?”

“Hold on there, you’ve got it wrong. I’m not the only one at fault. Yukinoshita was being like that, too, so…” I tried to make excuses, but Isshiki wasn’t listening at all. She just jerked her face to the side and strode right off.

I followed her a step behind. “Let me finish? Look, when you’re that stubborn and that much trouble…”

“Agh, thank you for the self-introduction.”

“You’re welcome… Wait, I don’t mean me. Although it does apply,” I said as I sped up to catch up to her. But I couldn’t get any closer. “Hey, you’re walking kinda fast. Like you’re trying to shake off one of the recruiters by the station.”

“Oh, you can drop that, too,” she answered curtly without turning to face me.

Hmm, that was really cold. Even if I say, Vaaaanilla! Vanilla! Great pay! she’s not gonna come follow me, huh? So I decided to be the one to follow her.

I seemed to recall she was headed to the same place I was. Though we rode different lines, we still went to the same station. I continued stepping on Isshiki’s shadow as we walked for a while longer.

Neither of us said anything during that time; the only sounds were the crunch of falling leaves being kicked up, the bells of bicycles cheerily running past, and the sweep of the north wind.

It was no wonder Isshiki had issues with this. My conversation with Yukinoshita had ultimately ended with a failure to reach an accord—a kind of declaration of war, in fact. Isshiki didn’t know anything about the Service Club’s competition, so she wouldn’t understand what it all meant. Isshiki had told me to do this properly before we’d gone into the student council room, and now we were in this mess. I sincerely felt bad about that.

Maybe I should apologize…, I was thinking when, suddenly, Isshiki stopped. On the path that went along the park, illuminated by the light of two vending machines side by side, I could clearly see her shoulders slumping. She breathed a deep sigh and spun around toward me.

Before, she’d been more displeased, but now she seemed kind of exasperated. Without a word, she stabbed a finger toward the vending machines.

Does she mean she wants me to buy her one…? Well, if that would cheer her up, it was a small price to pay. Or maybe she was using the formality of buying her something to make peace. Is she a good person or what…?

With the clinking of coins as I stuck in some change, I selected some drinks. A nice hot Max can, and then…a milk tea? No, maybe shiruko soup… Corn soup is also an option. Well, whatever. When you can’t make up your mind, you press all the buttons at once.

Click. I held out my randomly bought drink to Isshiki. In my right hand was a Max can, in my left, shiruko.

Isshiki made a face. “Why those two choices…?” she complained, but it seemed even she would feel bad about refusing, as she grudgingly chose the shiruko. There is that theory that Chibanese actually don’t choose the Max can…

Isshiki squatted down with the vending machine at her back, then removed her mittens to pop open the tab and have a drink. The ahhh that left her mouth afterward was visible in the air. “…Um, sorry.”

“About what?” Standing beside her, I opened my can, too. Sipping at it, I waited for her response.

Her lips barely moving, she muttered, “If I never brought up the prom, things wouldn’t have gotten all messed up.”

This meek, sulky Isshiki was so funny but also cute, and I couldn’t help but stare. Isshiki tugged her scarf up to hide half her face and said, muffled, “What…?”

I shook my head with a wry smile. “…That’s got nothing to do with it. Actually, it was perfect you did.”

“Huh?” Isshiki tilted her head up at me.

Maybe it was the warmth and sweetness of the canned coffee, but I think my tone may have turned unexpectedly gentle. It was weirdly embarrassing, and I looked up to the sky. “We have to draw a line somewhere, or we’d have kept on dragging things out. We needed a goal. Or, like, an end point. It would have gotten like this anyway over something else instead of the prom.”

“Oh, huh…” The weakness of her reply bothered me. When I looked back at her again, she was hugging her knees, head down in thought. But this wasn’t something she had to feel bad about.

Yukinoshita, Yuigahama, and me. At some point, the triangle between the three members of the Service Club had turned into something warped. Of course, it was warped right from the beginning. But we’d revised it bit by bit over time, and I’d thought that space had been changing into a comfortable one.

I was partially responsible for things falling apart. I wouldn’t let it be unnatural, but then I wanted everything to stay as it was. I would cover up whatever I had to with vague, superficial words in the hopes that it would slide by.

An unstable situation like that probably would have come undone anyway, no matter what started it. It could have been the prom, or just Haruno Yukinoshita. It was fair to say Isshiki had been dragged into it. I was the one who should be apologizing.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. For messing everything up,” I said.

Isshiki swayed back and forth, drawling apathetically. “Ehhh… It’s totally whatever. Like I said before, I don’t care either way. I mean, like, if the prom is a success, then I’m good, you know.”

“Hmm…” I gave her an apathetic, drawn-out reply right back, and that brought the conversation to a pause.

My canned coffee was gradually cooling in my hands. But neither of us rushed to finish our drinks. Maybe it was the exhaustion of a busy day. And the day after that was going to be even busier.

Despite believing I’d stay as far away from work as I could, suddenly I was trying to get involved in the prom of my own accord. Though I’d been against it initially, Isshiki’s enthusiasm had overcome me in the end. Just where did that passion of hers spring from?

“…Hey, why are you actually that fixated on the prom?” I asked her.

“Where’s this coming from?” Isshiki gave me a skeptical look, scooting an inch away from me.

“Uh, since you never really explained it.” Her enthusiasm had gotten across, but that was it. That had been enough to make us want to help her out, because we knew her well enough.

Back in the clubroom, she’d gone off about being prom queen and stuff, but I really doubted that was serious. Isshiki would bluff to get through moments like those, and she would make silly jokes and say a bunch of random stuff, but she was also really cunning as hell, so she always knew what something was really about. So she’d have her own reasons for the prom, too.

Sticking her index finger straight up to touch it to her chin, Isshiki pondered with a hmm as she started to talk. “Yeah…I guess it really is, you know, ’cause Miss Hiratsuka was leaving.”

“…You knew about that before?”

“Yeah, basically. I’m doing the farewell address, right? So I overheard it when the teachers were talking,” she said like it was nothing.

Wow, she’s something. She knew but didn’t say a word to anyone. She was planning out the whole prom and didn’t even let it show on her face, huh…?

When I nodded appreciatively to indicate I was listening, Isshiki got a little bashful. “So I was thinking, you know? We have to give her a proper send-off, or I think we’ll regret it.”

“You care about her that much…” My hand came to my mouth to smother a sob.

No way—is she actually a good person after all? What a beautiful love between student and teacher… Isshiki, of all people, the one who’s been causing Miss Hiratsuka grief just about every day, then acting like a little brat when her teacher comes down on her and weaseling her way out of trouble with her cheeky nonsense… Miss Hiratsuka, your love has actually been reaching your students…

But I was only a bit moved for the briefest of moments, as Isshiki sneaked her gaze away and muttered, “Oh, uh, well, you don’t have to go that far…but you could!”

“Huh? What? What was that?” Now this was really sounding like excuses. Excuses that did not fly.

But Isshiki avoided answering with a deliberate-sounding keff, keff to clear her throat, and then with a bright, charming smile, she looked up at me teasingly. “But you’re that type, aren’t you? Like, I can see you be like, I couldn’t do aaaanything and then really regretting it after.”

“Well, that’s true…” I had just such regrets right that very moment, so that even came out sincere.

Hearing that, Isshiki nodded in satisfaction. “I’m probably that type, too.” That was a little surprising to me.

A sad smile crossed her face at my confusion, and she gazed off into the distance. “I may not look like it, but I have no friends, right?”

“How do you even see yourself…?”

“Hmph!”

“Please continue.” I bobbed my head a few times to apologize for interrupting, prompting her to go on. She glared coldly but then sucked in a big breath and stared at the ground. Toying with a pebble at her feet with the toes of her loafers, she started up again at an easy pace. “It’s just you guys. So I want to give you a proper send-off…you, Yukino, Yui, and Hayama…and might as well toss in Tobe and the guys while we’re at it.”

She spoke so gently, assembling the words with such hesitation, that before I knew it, my mouth was relaxing into a smile. I had to come up with some joking comeback, like Whoa now, is my junior the most powerful or what? or the corners of my eyes might even relax and start watering.

“Aha! So you’re actually a good person, eh?” I said.

“It’s so that I won’t have regrets. I’m doing it for myself. It’s not like it’s for you.” Isshiki was really emphasizing that point, puffing out her chest proudly. Her pale hair, translucent under the light of the vending machines, shifted to reveal a peek of her pink ears. But I’d pretend I didn’t see that. I wasn’t opposed to letting her assertion stand.

“…So that’s why I want to have the prom, you know,” Isshiki murmured with yearning, looking up at the night sky as if in a dream. “Going out of your way to do something that’s a lot of trouble, thinking and brooding and exhausting yourself, panicking and getting sick of it and coming to hate it over a long period of time…then it’s like you can finally give up on it. You want to say good-bye—like, now that’s a relief!” she said with indifferent cheer in her smile, throwing up her hands. And I finally got it.

The process she spoke of was a path I would one day go down. I would experience that kind of ugly struggle until the end, and then I’d be able to accept our farewell.

“…Well, it’s not like I don’t get it,” I muttered.

“Reeeally?” Isshiki replied, half-teasing.

Even though her manner was joking, there was a tinge of sincerity in her upturned eyes as she looked at me. So I didn’t play with words, just giving her a wry smile in return.

“So then…” Isshiki grabbed the scarf dangling from my neck and got to her feet. Swinging her arm in a circle, she wrapped my scarf around my neck with the flair of a gymnast with a ribbon. “Do a better job, please.” She was smiling, but her tone was scolding, unlike her lighthearted earlier manner. I was surprised by her white breath, close enough to touch me, and the experience of being chided by a younger girl, so I froze for a moment.

“O-okay. Sorry…,” I said, inching back by millimeters to do up my scarf again—ninja-style, to hide my startled, embarrassed blushing.

Watching me, Isshiki breathed out a big, long agh. Then she grabbed the ends of my scarf again and started twisting and wrapping it. “If you don’t do this right, then I won’t be able to, either. This sort of thing really causes trouble for me, you know. I don’t wanna. And it’s a hassle,” she said, pulling the scarf tight and twisting it up over my chest. Once she’d finished wrapping me up so perfectly that there were no cracks for wind to slip in, she gave me a little kitty bop on top of it.

“Ow…”

With her fuzzy mittens and the twisted-up scarf, it didn’t hurt at all.

But it did reach my heart.

I switched on the living room lights and quietly muttered, “I’m home.”

But there was no one to reply. Just the cold air.

My parents were at work, and Komachi had to have gone out somewhere. And the cat…, I wondered, flipping up the cover of the kotatsu. In the darkness, two shining points went badiiing , and my eyes met those of the cat curled up underneath.

But Kamakura simply stared at me, with no meowing or woofing, not so much as a twitch. He just glowered at me: You’re letting cold air in—close it already. He would actually go out to welcome Komachi when she came home, but this was the treatment I always got. Does he just not like me…? I thought uneasily as I said, “Hi, Kamakura,” then lowered the cover again. While I was at it, I turned on the kotatsu for him, too. Since it’s off while we’re out… Get nice and warm…

After turning on the kotatsu for the honored household feline, I clicked the button on the remote to turn the room heater on low. Lukewarm air started blowing out, and I was finally able to get comfortable. Undoing the scarf wrapped tight around my neck, I breathed a deep sigh.

Normally, I’d go straight to lying around, but I didn’t have that kind of time. Quickly stripping off my coat and tossing it away, I flopped down on the sofa and started doing research on my phone. My search keyword was, of course, prom.

Though I’d said I would make the prom happen, all that had been settled was that I was going up against Yukinoshita. I still had no idea what I was doing, specifically. First, I had to do some research about proms, then think of what I could do.

I spent some time clicking around and reading, copy-pasting to the notepad app while adding in ideas that came to mind, over and over.

But everything I learned through my research was the same as what Yukinoshita and Isshiki had been putting together, and I wasn’t really getting anywhere. I used this info to come up with ideas, but I wasn’t going to get anything beyond what they already had.

Although their choice to deal with the symptoms of the problem wasn’t a mistake, it wasn’t certain enough. If the parents and the school hit them with a no, they’d have to start over from scratch. That was why I had to think up another move, a different way to approach this, but… Hmm, I dunnooo, I can’t think of anythiiiing! I just can’t think of aaany ideas! I agonized, rolling around on the sofa.

We had only two weeks or so until the graduation ceremony. And if you considered the time needed to actually organize the event, I could use two or three days at most to come up with ideas. I had to have a project plan by then. That was a deadline I absolutely couldn’t afford to miss.

No, wait. I should think more flexibly.

…I just can’t break the deadline, right? It’s not like we can’t stretch it out? Ohhh, so that’s it—they’re making things more flexible on the editorial end, huh! What a godly move. So she’s actually a genius, eh?

But this time, I wasn’t dealing with an editor, like that time with the free bulletin. This was an event on a day that wasn’t going to move. Schedule-wise, this was going to be harsher. It was fair to say we were in pretty bad shape right now.

It’s all about the angle; change the point of view. Times like these, it’s best to find another perspective. So I rolled off the sofa and nuzzled my way into the kotatsu face-first.

If someone else were to witness this, it would seem like a completely bizarre thing to do, but doing slightly weird things will give you ideas different from other people’s. You can’t be bothered about being seen.

When I shoved my face into the kotatsu, Kamakura jerked away from me in the faint light. He fled as far from me as he could go to the opposite corner, staring at me like, The heck is with him…?

Ah! That’s it! Times like these, you have to take a helping hand from anyone, even a cat! If I take the cat’s paw and press his beans to my eyelids, my tired eyes will be soothed, my stressed spirit will relax, the birds will sing and the flowers bloom, the world will be filled with peace, and we’ll get a new Armored Core game!

So I reached out to take Kamakura’s paw, and Kamakura shot out of the kotatsu like lightning.

I popped my face out of the kotatsu in an attempt to follow him and realized that Komachi was back. As she stood there with a solemn look on her face, our eyes met.

“…What’re you doing, Bro?” she asked coolly. Kamakura sidled up to her ankles, rubbing his head on her legs, and Komachi crouched down to aggressively scrub him all over.

Her attitude toward me, however, was brusque. “Don’t be lying around in your uniform—go get changed. It’ll get wrinkly and covered in cat hair.”

“O-okay…,” I said, standing up and sliding off my tie as I headed for my room.

I quickly got changed into the tracksuit I wore indoors, and when I returned to the living room, Komachi had already changed into her at-home wear and was going around the kitchen.

“Have you eaten, Bro?” she asked.

“Ah, not yet.”

“Mom made hot pot. Are you okay with that?”

“Mm… I mean, like, that’s all there is.”

I went around the kitchen as well, peeking in to see if there was anything else, just in case. But there was nothing that seemed good aside from the earthenware pot bubbling on the stove. I can’t even remember eating any dinners aside from hot pot lately… With the somen pitcher in the summertime and the hot-pot pitcher in the wintertime day after day, she was gonna be MVP of the year at this rate.

When Komachi noticed my disappointment, she put a hand to her waist, swinging a ladle as she chided me. “If you don’t like it, then do it yourself.”

“Yeah, okay…” She was right, so I had no choice but to agree. My parents still made sure to cook, even though they were busy, so I’m thankful to them. Respect there, for real.

Well, compared with somen, which is just a fastball the whole game, the charm of hot pot is a plethora of curveballs, like chanko mixed hot pot, mizutaki, kimchi curry, and even zosui udon to finish off the broth, so I guess it’s somewhat better… But if you tweet something like that, you’re going to get a mountain of obnoxious unsolicited advice in your replies: You can have more variety with somen too! Just be creative! Shuddup, we have somen at my house because it’s easy; if you make more work for yourself with creativity, you’re defeating the purpose. And then if you tweet that, you get a stupid reply like Really great somen is good without frills. Please come over again tomorrow. I’ll serve you some really good soba. Shuddup, tomorrow’s too sudden. I’ve got plans, you know. People like this will generally start going on about the taste of the ingredients and tell you to just eat it plain first, then try it with salt. Ingredient nerds, salt nerds, and dashi nerds just never shut up.

Look, when you’re eating, you can’t have anyone in your way. You’ve got to feel free; it has to bring your relief. So doesn’t that mean eating with Komachi is the greatest? Big Bro is always saying so, right? A sister’s all you need.

Anyway, I got two bowls, filled them with rice for myself and Komachi, and brought them to the kotatsu.

Next, Komachi, finished with her brisk preparation, carried over the pot. She cleared off the kotatsu, put down the pot stand, and set the pot on top of it with a ta-daa. Once she’d arranged the chopsticks and serving bowls and everything, we were ready.

She generously ladled out some of the hot pot into the two bowls, then pushed them both toward me. “Here, which do you want?”

“They’re both the same…” They taste the same anyway, in the end… I’m not feeling that positive about the hot pot in the first place…, I was thinking, but I found myself examining both bowls, comparing their contents.

One of them had a bit more vegetables, while the other had a bit more pork. It wasn’t like there was a huge difference. But if she was telling me to choose, then I had to choose. I’d forced Isshiki to pick between a Max can and shiruko, too, after all.

“I see…” I was staring at the bowls as I pondered this when Komachi tilted her head.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing,” I answered, and I took the bowl with more pork in it.

Komachi brought the remaining bowl toward her and clapped her hands together. “Well then, let’s eat.”

“Yeah, let’s.” After chanting our thanks in unison, we both got munching. The Chinese cabbage and pork had been simmered to perfection. Ohhh, this is all right. I’m kinda okay with this, actually. Hot take: Give a boy meat, and he won’t even complain. We ate silently for a bit, while away in the kitchen, Kamakura could be heard crunching away on his cat food.

“Oh yeah, you’re back early today, huh?” I muttered.

The two of us hadn’t had dinner together for the past few days, maybe since our modest family celebration after Komachi passed her exams. Recently, she’d been coming home late from hanging out with friends or going out to eat as a reward, or in celebration of passing.

Komachi nodded as she chewed her Chinese cabbage. “Yeah, well, I’ve been busy after exams.”

“What are you so busy with…?” I asked.

Komachi reflected with an umm as she started folding down her fingers, counting off.

“A wrap party, a congratulations party, a thank-you party, a reunion party, a hello party…”

“How many parties are there…?”

And, like, what’s a hello party? Who are you saying hello to? Pathos? Or courage? In that case, first you have to say farewell, no tears…

As I tried to puzzle through the unfamiliar terms, Komachi, now done counting on her fingers, energetically thrust up a fist with a bright smile. “Soooo I didn’t really have any plans today, so I guess this is the day of my big-bro party? Tee-hee, that’s worth a lot of Komachi points!”

“I see…”

So she settled on the big-bro party by process of elimination, huh? Yes, well, it’s fine, though. But, like, that’s actually pretty amazing, having plans to go out several days in a row. She’s got the makings of a real social butterfly, the type to go out drinking over every little thing. Isn’t it a struggle, spending all your time going out like that…? It seems painful mentally, physically, and economically.

“It’s tough having a lot of friends, huh…?” I said earnestly while slurping my broth. I certainly couldn’t relate.

But Komachi replied like it was nothing. “Well, it’s not just kids from school. There’s also everyone from cram school and the student council and all sorts of stuff. Also, you get connected on social media even before you enter school.”

Oh, so that’s who’s at the hello party. The hell, man, having obligations before school even starts, that’s hard mode.

“…Won’t that make things awkward when you start school? Once you’re actually there and you end up estranged from all those people you were expecting to be your friends, won’t it be hard to face them?” I said.

Komachi froze, still holding her chopsticks. Then she smiled awkwardly, apparently really weirded out. “What an awful thing to say, Bro…”

“But it’s the truth…”

“Hmm, well, yeah…” Komachi folded her arms, considering, then immediately grinned. “But that’s just how it works, right? C’est la vie and all.”

So down-to-earth! Like the meteorite that killed the dinosaurs!

My little sister is so sharp-witted…, I thought, trembling with vague fears for my sister’s future, when a thought hit me. “Was Taishi there, too?”

Taishi—that is to say, Kawa-something’s little brother Taishi Kawasaki—made it into Soubu High School recently as well. And it seemed to me that he was growing attached to Komachi. If Taishi were also there at this hello party of hers, I would have to deal with such an undesirable who came close to Komachi beforehand!

I’d been thinking cruel thoughts, but Komachi’s response was even more cruel. “Yeah. Probably?” She didn’t even look up as she answered, serving up the items from the pot into the bowl.

“Ice-cold…”

So in her mind, I guess Taishi is order: primate, species: human, class: friend, huh…? She’s so indifferent to him, I kind of feel bad for him… Except I don’t!

After we’d eaten the hot pot down to the broth, we added rice to finish off the liquid, and once we’d scraped the bottom of the pot, my stomach was stuffed, so we spent the evening taking it easy with some after-dinner tea. Komachi put Kamakura on her lap, humming as she brushed him, while I flopped over onto my stomach for some more quality time with my phone.

I’d sort of decided on a general plan, but it was still lacking in specifics. I searched various terms like prom and graduation party, but I still didn’t find any information or inspiration, blowing a deep sigh as I rolled over again.

Then my eyes met Komachi’s, sitting diagonally from me. She cocked her head cutely, as if to say, What?

That was when something struck me.

“…You’re just about to graduate, huh?” I asked. It was a brief question.

Komachi answered even more briefly, with a quiet “Yeah.”

There had been so much excitement in the wake of her exams, so my attention had been entirely on her high school entrance, but her middle school graduation ceremony came first. There are differences between middle and high school, but both are still the celebration of a departure.

Thinking it might give me some hint about the prom, I tried casually asking, “So for graduation, it’s like…what? What do you do?”

“Huh? What a weird question.” Komachi made a face, but her gaze flicked upward, and she considered for me. “Graduation, huh…? Oh, Komachi’s going on a graduation trip,” she muttered, as if she’d only just remembered.

I instantly jolted up. “Wait, I haven’t heard about that. What about your big bro?”

“Uh, you’re not going. It’s not with the family; I’m going with friends.” She waved a hand in front of her face like, No, no.

No, no, you can’t stay overnight on a trip! Big Bro won’t allow that! The words started coming out from my throat, and I think I might have even said as much as “Won’t all—,” but seeing Komachi’s unimpressed glare, I swallowed the rest.

Komachi isn’t a little kid anymore… I can’t really play the big brother and carp at her for stuff. Besides, Komachi has good sense; she wouldn’t let things get weird or involve herself in anything dangerous. I sent her as much trust as I could in my eyes: Komachi, Big Bro believes in you, okay?!

Komachi seemed momentarily annoyed, but then she gave an exasperated sort of sigh, dropped her shoulders, and continued. “Also a graduation party and stuff. It’s just a dinner with the whole class.”

“Huhhh…” With that vague answer, I made a note of it on my phone app, just in case.

The graduation trip aside, something like a party I could vaguely imagine. They’d all go to a family restaurant or a yakiniku place or something and chat over a good meal. Or they could get the best of both worlds and go to the yakiniku family restaurant Akamon, said to be the first of its kind in the nation. I’d even say if you’re born and raised in Chiba, Akamon is the only option for yakiniku… Outside of Chiba, if you bring up yakiniku places, they’ll answer Sengoku. Not like I know.

…But anyway, is “the whole class” really everyone? Times like these, there’s always people who aren’t invited, you know (personally researched). I’m quite knowledgeable about this topic.

So let’s ask something else instead. “Isn’t there anything else? Like, event-wise.”

“Huh? Events?” Komachi asked, tilting her head dubiously. But something must have struck her, as she made an ahhh sort of noise. “…Ohhh, the sendaway is basically another event? I think? Not like I know.”

“The sendaway… Oh, to send off the third years, huh?” Not being very familiar with the term, it took me a bit of time before I figured it out. But that was what they called the party to say farewell to the third-year students, huh?

Pulling up my memories of my middle school days, there had indeed been such an event, separate from the graduation ceremony. I remembered it had been mandatory for everyone to come and that we’d been forced to sing. They got mad at us tenors and yelled at us to sing properly. Now I even remembered how the girl accompanying on piano had cried and run off, and Orimoto and the girls’ A-group had gone after her, and then they made me apologize…

Actually, that one thing maxed out my memory capacity for the sendaway, so I couldn’t tell you anything else that happened.

“What do you do for that again?” I asked Komachi. “You sing something, right? Something like the kabosu song.”

“It’s the leaving-the-nest song.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. And then there’s the other one that goes ‘Our Mother Eeeearth.’”

“Yeah, yeah, that sort of thing. Well, ‘Praise the Earth’ is for the graduation ceremony, though. And we’re having, like, a kind of play, too,” she said.

A question mark briefly hung in the air between us, and then suddenly the door of my memory opened. “A play… Ahhh, I feel like there was something, like, you know. ‘Under the bright liiiight of early spriiiing, first, we will…!”

Then Komachi caught up to me as if singing a round. “‘First thing, we will!’”

“‘Graduate!’”

“‘Graduate!’” Divided into the boys’ and girls’ parts, we fully reenacted it up to the two-beat rest…

The silly exchange made me smile at Komachi. “…Something like that?”

Komachi smiled brightly back at me, and we sat there grinning at each other. And then, without changing her expression at all, Komachi shook her head. “Nope. Not all.”

“Whaaat…? But we got all into it…” If that’s not the one, then why didn’t you stop me earlier…? I shot her a mildly reproachful look.

Komachi cracked an exasperated smile. “Like, that’s the acclamation, and that was elementary school.”

“Huh? Is that right? I seriously don’t remember. I mean, I’ve only had an actual graduation twice in my life, from elementary and middle school. I haven’t done that much graduating, you know,” I said, while adding in a note about the sendaway on my phone, just in case. I didn’t think it would be much use as a reference, but this notepad app would help me find ideas. You never knew what would lead to a light bulb moment. I added in notes about the songs, the play, and the acclamation while I was at it.

Perhaps the act of writing these notes was something like a solo thought shower, so to speak. Tamanawa taught me, after all, that you shouldn’t come to a conclusion right away—all while immediately shooting down my ideas…

As I was indulging in some nostalgia for the dearly departed, Komachi seemed to be pitying me for whatever reason. “Oh yeah… You still haven’t managed to graduate from PreCure and Aikatsu!, either, huh…?”

“Don’t be dumb. You don’t graduate from that; that’s lifelong learning. The ones who stop watching haven’t graduated—they’ve dropped out, okay?” I protested.

“In your case, that’s called getting held back a year…” Komachi sighed in resignation.

I can always count on Komachi to get me. Seriously, looking back on my utter lack of growth this past year, saying I’ve gotten “held back” might actually fit quite perfectly. I found myself letting out a weak, masochistic laugh.

Komachi tilted her head curiously, but she wasn’t going to press me, and she asked something else. “You don’t have something like a sendaway in high school?”

“Ohhh, I don’t think we do.” At the very least, I didn’t think there was any event like that around this time the year before. Maybe individual clubs would have some sort of send-off party, but not having been in any clubs at the time, I didn’t quite know. I should probably ask someone later. And so I added in my notepad app, Talk with Totsuka ♡, and now we’re good!

I was satisfied with this rather excellent conclusion to my solo thought shower, when I looked up from my phone and saw Komachi’s profile as she leaned her chin on her hand on the kotatsu.

“Ohhh… Well, it’s high school, after all. Guess you don’t do that sort of thing,” Komachi grumbled as if she was just a tad disappointed, then started stroking Kamakura and humming. I’d heard that melody on her lips before. It was probably a standard graduation song.

Listening to that somewhat lonely sound, I closed the notepad app on my phone. “There’s nothing like a sendaway…but this year, we are having a prom.” I opened up the browser to show her the page I’d been looking at just a minute ago, holding my phone out to her.

Komachi peeked at it like, Show me, show me, then made an admiring noise. “Huhhh… Oh wow, what is this? Wow… You’re doing this?” Her eyes were sparkling.

With a small smile that was slightly strained around the lips, I nodded back. Though I didn’t actually say anything, I was announcing that I would make it happen.

It wasn’t like there was any basis for it that I could explain logically. We didn’t have enough time; we were nowhere near ready. I didn’t even know what I should do.

But I was going to make this prom happen.

That was the one thing that had been settled.

Even after a night’s sleep, I still hadn’t gotten over my exhaustion.

I’d spent until late the evening before hanging around with Komachi in the kotatsu and nodding off. Caught between wakefulness and dreaming, I’d gone to my room to fall into bed, where I’d slept like the dead.

And then before I knew it, it was morning, and I just barely made it on time to school. Though I’d skipped breakfast and my grooming routine, making it before the bell would be dicey.

Komachi had to have fallen asleep around the same time as me, but she shot sharply out of bed, got herself smartly dressed, and shrewdly slithered off to school before me.

I should also have had enough sleep time, mathematically speaking, but my head was still wrapped in a drowsiness that made my feet on the pedals feel somewhat heavier. I couldn’t get my mind or the pedals to work right, and the needle of my watch was the only thing moving as it should.

Starting that day, I had to deal with the prom.

There wasn’t much time left, and I didn’t have a lot to work with. And I still hadn’t come up with any concrete plan. And there were some people who would be hard to face, after we’d been so sharp with each other before.

Thinking about that made my legs feel even heavier, but I somehow managed to heave my way along on my bike, slipping through the back entrance right before the warning bell.

As I rushed to the entrance right before class started, it was buzzing with the kids who’d finished morning practice, as well as those like me who were skating in under the wire, and I found a pinkish-brown head of hair among them. With each little step, the backpack on her back, her long scarf, and her bun bounced side to side.

Seeing Yuigahama reminded me of how we’d parted ways the day before, and I was hesitant to call out to her. While I was busy waffling, she reached the shoe boxes and changed into her indoor shoes. Then she noticed me and paused for a moment. With a faint smile, she raised a hand just slightly in front of her chest to give me a casual wave.

It was really embarrassing, so I gave her a few quick nods in return, tugging up my scarf as I trotted closer.

Yuigahama combed at her bun with her fingers as she murmured, “Morning.”

“…’Sup.”

Our eyes met for only an instant, and my gaze immediately dropped to my indoor shoes. As I was shoving my feet into them, crushing the heels, she patiently waited beside me. When I hopped a little on my toes to signal we could go, she nodded and began to lead me off.

“Ahhh, that was close. I just barely made it in time,” Yuigahama said as she quickly undid her scarf and wrapped it up in her arms to hold it. She was acting cheery as always, which was exactly why it felt so wrong. I didn’t know how to respond.

I knew intellectually that if she was trying to signal nothing was wrong, it would be best not to ask anything about what had happened the day before—but it seemed insincere to me to not touch on it. Once we’d passed enough of the oncoming people in the halls to have a one-meter radius of privacy, I lowered my voice to ask, “Were you okay, yesterday?”

“Huh?” Yuigahama seemed confused by the sudden question, looking at me with a little tilt of her head. But she figured it out quickly and covered her cheeks. “Ahhh, yeah. I’m totally okay! Sorry, like… Eh-heh, wow, this is kind of embarrassing… Or like I said before, it happens all the time.”

She panicked and got shy, then embarrassed, then sulky, shifting through a kaleidoscope of expressions before settling on a smile. That meant the conversation was done, and my lips relaxed as well. I nodded. Even if I thought there was something, I wasn’t about to probe it, pick it apart, or push her away. I wasn’t a total child. After sharing this much time together, even if it hadn’t been that long, I’d gradually gotten better at finding the distance and places that were most comfortable for the both of us.

Yuigahama started going up the stairs, her steps sounding lightly half a pace ahead of me. A beat later, I followed after. It was right before class would start, and most everyone else must already have gone into their classrooms, as the hall was mostly empty.

When we approached the landing, Yuigahama turned halfway back to me. “What about you? How did things go after that?”

“Hmm, well, you know. I’ve decided to try doing the prom.”

“Oh.” I caught a glimpse of a relieved smile, then she faced forward again.

I nodded at her back. “So…” My lips were stiff and reluctant. “You can leave without me today.” It wasn’t like we’d promised to walk together all the time. I suspected that expressly saying this was a sign I was being overly self-conscious, and I was truly disgusted with myself. I wanted to yell at myself, Hey, dumbass, stop misinterpreting already.

But Yuigahama quietly nodded for me. “Okay. Got it.”

That was a relief, and I was able to add more. “Or, like, not just today—it’ll be like that, well, for a while.”

“…Yeah, I know. You’re helping Yukinon, right?” Yuigahama went up the stairs slowly, carefully taking each individual step. Eventually, she reached the third floor, where our classroom was. Keeping her in my field of vision from half a step behind, I reached out to my own scarf. I slid it off, then rotated my neck to relieve the stiffness.

It would be best to actually tell Yuigahama how things had gotten to this point. Even if she didn’t fully understand, I wanted her to know. “Well, about that… I’m not helping. We’re actually up against each other.”

“Uh-huh… Huh? Pardon?” Yuigahama had been walking steadily up until this point, but she came to a sudden stop and whirled around with her mouth hanging open. Ah, she was communicating with her whole body, I don’t get it…

That big of a reaction was actually refreshing. It made it more worthwhile to act defiant about this. “No, not like that… Like, she’s kinda being really stubborn about this, okay? It’s impossible to work together. So I’ve decided to compete against her. That’s the only way I can be involved.”

“…Uh…huh.” Yuigahama didn’t seem convinced, but her slightly confused expression turned to one of utter bafflement as she gradually pieced together what had happened. “Like…you’re really dumb sometimes, Hikki…”

“No, I’m really smart sometimes.”

Yuigahama stood there, stunned, and I strode past her as jauntily as I could, ridiculously arrogant in every way.

Seeing that, Yuigahama gave a tiny murrg but then, after a bit of a struggle, said, “Did you have a real conversation?”

“…Would that resolve it?” I said, implicitly adding, This is me and Yukinoshita.

Yuigahama picked up on the unsaid part and slumped. “Guess not…”

Amazing as usual, Yuigahama, Amazingahama for short. She understands very well indeed.

“Nope. So the only option is to make it a competition. Anyway, first we get the prom over with. We won’t get anywhere otherwise. As for the club and stuff…well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” I said, even as I felt doubts.

Once the prom was over, what then? What did I mean to do with the nonfunctional framework called the Service Club? What did I think about our future?

But we had to put an end to this, or we wouldn’t make any progress at all. For now, we’d managed to reach the starting point. Next, I just had to think about how to actualize this unreasonably difficult task.

Walking as I thought about it, we arrived at the classroom.

Yuigahama was trudging along, but she stopped right before entering, at the door. When I turned to her, wondering what was up, she seemed to be thinking about something, her eyes drawing downward.

Eventually, she lifted her face, fixing me with a serious expression. “…I can’t help with that, too?” She squeezed her backpack strap tight, looking straight at me with an unwavering gaze. I could see worry in her large eyes, and her lips pulled tight.

Once I’d seen that expression, there was no way I could refuse her.