4

Once again, Hachiman Hikigaya makes a speech.

The classroom was filled with the after-school bustle.

During class, I’d done a little sleeping and a little not-sleeping while thinking about things, but I put that on pause for the moment as I got my stuff together to go home. I put on my coat, wrapped my scarf around my neck, slung my empty bag over my shoulder, and rose to my feet.

My destination was the back of the classroom, the corner by the windows. Even after the bell had rung and my classmates had gone their own ways, there were still people hanging around there.

The queen with golden sausage curls enthroned in their center folded her long legs, sproinging her hair as her nails tap-tapped on her phone. Standing with her was Ebina, who was already ready to go home, and Yuigahama, whose back was turned to me. Then there was Hayama and the three stooges standing with the window behind them, all ready to go to their club.

The feeling of freedom at the end of the school day still hung around them as they chatted with each other. Now, I just had to cut in.

To be honest, going over to them was seriously exhausting. Even just approaching them took a lot of guts, and initiating conversation was almost too much for me.

But I was the one getting help from Yuigahama here. It was only manners for me to go talk to her. Waiting at my desk to have her come to me would be pretty pathetic. Specifically, about as pathetic as a light-novel author who deliberately goes out into the studio lobby during a break in the dubbing to wait for the voice actresses to come talk to him.

I was already quite pathetic, but I do have some pride. So now, I would screw up my courage to press forward. Slowly, slowly, like a kyogen performer…slowly, slowly, slowly…I slipped my way toward their group. It seemed this tactic worked, as there was no indication Miura or the others took notice of me while discussing their plans to go hang out later or whatnot. With this level of slowliness, maybe I’ll be able to fire off a midair Motoya chop, soon enough.

Approaching a millimeter at a time, once I’d sneaked right up behind Yuigahama, I quietly cleared my throat and said, “…I’m about to get going—what about you?”

Yuigahama spun around. “Oh, yeah. I’m coming, I’m coming,” she said easily. Then she swung her backpack onto her shoulder and waved at Miura and Ebina. “See you guys.”

“Mmm,” Miura answered lazily, while Ebina smiled brightly and waved back.

“Byeee.”

Two of the three stooges exchanged looks of surprise, while the remaining one went, “Huh? Uhhh, huh?!” doing a double and triple take at us. Tobe really is obnoxious.

Then Hayama glanced over at us with a weirdly warm smile.

The heck? This is wildly embarrassing and wildly painful, and I’m definitely gonna want to die later…

Even once I’d turned away, I could feel their lukewarm gazes as I rushed out of the classroom. I didn’t forget to yank my scarf up to hide my cheeks.

Exiting into the hallway, once I’d finally slowed from my speed walking, Yuigahama came up just as quickly and let me have it fast and hard. “Like, what the heck was that?! Just talk to me normally! You were so slow and sneaky! Like seriously, it actually freaked me out.”

“Uh, I can’t do that… It’s just really nerve-racking, okay…?” I’d used up all my energy on going to talk to her before, so it came out really exhausted.

Yuigahama huffed at me, but it immediately turned into a lighthearted smile like, Oh, you’re hopeless.

Walking down the hallway side by side, we came to a corner. Go left, and you’d have the special-use building; go right, and you’d head down the stairs.

“So now what?” Yuigahama asked.

“Yeah… Well, first we have to decide what we’re going to do… For now, how about we go someplace we can talk?”

“Okay. Like Saize?”

“Well, yeah.”

Though the Service Club room would have been an option, neither of us suggested that. I doubt we had forgotten it, but we were deliberately excluding it. I don’t think our reasons were exactly the same, but I’m sure they were similar.

She was there, and that was where it had first been established.

So we probably wouldn’t go to that clubroom again.

We walked away from the school for a while, me pushing my bike.

We went to the Saize at the station, and as soon as we were shown to our seats, we ordered drink bar tickets for the both of us. Getting our drinks right away, we slurped at them through straws as we made ourselves comfortable. Normally, we would have ordered a Milan-style pilaf or the spicy chicken or the pepperoncino spaghetti, but we hadn’t come to eat that day. Drinks would be fine, for now.

Or so I was thinking, when Yuigahama immediately opened up the menu. “I’m kinda hungry! What about you? What’ll you get?” Sitting opposite me at the four-seat booth, she placed the menu in the middle as she leaned forward, flipping through it.

Every time you do that, I see little flashes of things, you know, so can you be careful? And also, I did have lunch…, I was thinking when something suddenly occurred to me. “Oh yeah, what did you do for lunch?”

The moment I asked that, Yuigahama’s hands thumbing through the menu froze. Then she scooted back and flattened herself against the backrest. “…I am eating right, okay? …What about it?” she said super quietly, turning her reddened face aside as she sneakily twisted around. I could tell she was trying to turn her body to make herself look subtly thinner or something… But doing that actually emphasizes another nice part of her figure!

Clearing my throat with a gfum, gfum, I looked slightly away. “Oh, that’s not what I mean? You’ve been eating in the clubroom at lunch, right? I was just wondering about how it is now.”

“Oh, gotcha…” Yuigahama sighed in relief, facing the front again. After a thoughtful pause, she slowly began to say, “Yukinon said she’ll be in the student council room for a while, eating and working. So I guess I’ve been with Yumiko and Hina lately… And that’s more or less the story after school, too.”

“Oh,” I replied briefly, and Yuigahama nodded with a lonely smile, stirring the straw around her glass.

Yuigahama and Yukinoshita had spent most of their time during lunch and after school together. And before Yukinoshita had gone back to her parents’ house, I think Yuigahama had gone over to her apartment a lot, too, so they would have been together often on evenings and weekends. But since this whole prom thing had hit the fan, Yukinoshita was focusing all her effort on that, which didn’t leave many opportunities for Yuigahama.

What would happen in the future? Once the prom was over and we’d moved on to the next year, would they be able to spend time together in the same way?

“…Well, first we have to get the prom over with,” I said, cutting off those thoughts as I drank down my iced coffee. I’d made sure to put milk and liquid syrup in, but it was still unpleasantly bitter.

Yuigahama’s eyes dropped to the glass cupped in her hands, and she brought the straw to her lips. Taking a gulp, she gave me a firm nod. “What’re you going to do now?”

When I raised my head again, the usual cheer had returned to Yuigahama’s expression. It helped me recall the way I normally acted. I tugged aggressively at the hair at the back of my head and lazily started talking about my thoughts from the night before. “Well, I considered a bunch of stuff, but I think if we try to just make the prom happen, our odds are pretty bad. Once a plan’s been shot down once, it’s just not going to work again.”

We’d had many opportunities to present plans over the course of the year, including the cultural festival, the athletic festival, the Christmas event, and such, but even with what we’d learned from those experiences, this prom thing was a headache and a half.

With the previous events we’d been involved with, we’d discussed them on the assumption that they’d actually be held, in one way or another. But this time, what the parents wanted was not a revision of the prom, but its cancellation. We could revamp the plan all we wanted, but so long as the fundamental elements didn’t change, their reaction wouldn’t, either.

And the biggest roadblock was the fact that the proposal had already been rejected once and branded a failure. That stigma would follow it around in the future, and even if we submitted plans for modifications, they wouldn’t necessarily get a fair shake. And the negative impression of the prom as an event, combined with the fact that the proposal had already been turned down once, would bias the parents. So any revisions would just be treating the symptoms of the problem instead of overturning the decision itself.

Gathering my thoughts as I chewed on my straw, I told her my conclusion. “…So we have to push a new bias,” I said, using the English term.

Yuigahama, who’d been listening blankly with her mouth hanging open, muttered vacantly, “Bai-asu… Oh! Vibes?”

“No.” Why are you so confident you got it right? It’s weird. You’re way off. You don’t say you’re hanging out and biasing.

Perhaps it would be best to explain this, just in case.

“Bias means, like…a leaning, or a prejudice…or a stereotype that makes it hard to see something a different way, I suppose. I dunno.”

“Hmm?” Yuigahama tilted her head.

She really doesn’t get it, does she…? Well, it wasn’t like I was super informed either, so it was fine if she just got a rough idea. The part I wanted to make sure she understood was what came after. “In other words, we need to push them toward a new bias. So we’ll make a new, separate prom proposal, different from the one Yukinoshita and the others are planning,” I said.

Yuigahama gave me a blank look. But it gradually turned skeptical. “…Why?”

“Right now, they see the prom existing at all as a bad thing. But if something worse shows up, what then? Then they’ll start being like, Well, the prom before was better.”

“I…see…?” Yuigahama replied, but she didn’t get it at all.

Hmm, she’s totally saying that as a question… How should I explain this…? I was thinking, when the Saize menu caught my eye. Flipping through it, I opened up the last page. It had the dessert menu. Pointing at it, I looked Yuigahama right in the eye. “…If carbs make you fat, you don’t want to eat ice cream or sweets, right?”

“Y-yeah? Where’s this coming from…?” Yuigahama twisted around again, kind of pulling away.

“But if a new candidate pops up, a half-calorie ice cream, then you’d feel like you could eat it, right?”

“Yeah, I could eat two…”

“That’s not what I mean…but, well, sure.”

Yuigahama’s eyes were on the menu pictures, so I cleared my throat to return to the conversation at hand. “We’ll come up with another prom plan, a sort of foil. Once it’s a choice between two options, we make the parents feel like they have to choose one. The strategy is to put forth a trash plan, a trash proposal, to get the real plan through.”

The way things stood now, the only options were to accept the prom A plan Yukinoshita and company had come up with or to decline it. But if we proposed a separate prom B plan, then psychologically, the ones making the choice would believe they had to choose between plan A or plan B. Doing this would eliminate the original option of rejecting the plan.

“Ohhh…I get it,” said Yuigahama. “You mean the prom Yukinon and Iroha-chan are working on is the half calorie, huh?” She nodded, then paused, and her head jerked up. “Wait, but weren’t they saying the prom was out to begin with? What if they say no to both?” she said, and I smacked myself in the forehead.

“Well…”

Yuigahama had indeed pointed out the weak point of this plan. Her head may be full of rocks, but she had some smarts deep down in there, too.

This method is most efficient primarily when guiding someone who can’t make up their mind. In this situation, since they’d already given us an answer once already, just forcing a selection between these two options alone wouldn’t be that effective.

So while this was added after the fact, we had to put forth a new precondition.

“…But that’s probably okay,” I said, and Yuigahama cocked her head.

“The school doesn’t really want to cancel the prom entirely, either,” I continued. “If they did, they would have canceled it directly. They have a track record of respecting the students’ autonomy, and they even celebrate it as a school tradition.”

“Yeah, true… We’ve done a lot of stuff before, too…” Yuigahama was digesting that, though she sounded kind of skeptical.

It was true that the stuff about school tradition was a bit weak to base this gamble on. But like Yuigahama said, if you considered examples like the Christmas event, we’d done quite a lot. The school hadn’t said no to that, so it was clear they did mean to allow the students a certain degree of freedom. Additionally, Miss Hiratsuka herself had told us the school administration hadn’t really taken issue with the prom at first.

“The school will be thinking about appearances, too. Completely crushing the plan now would be bad for their reputation. So the odds are high that they’ll say, Well, the more appropriate plan, then, and take its side. We’ll count on Miss Hiratsuka for that,” I said.

“Right!” Yuigahama nodded with some relief.

Miss Hiratsuka actually had won us the pledge of an implicit cancellation rather than an explicit one. So then if we turned this into a situation where there was a choice between two options, she should snag us a certain right to speak, some discretionary power in the school’s decision and negotiation with the parents. Meaning we could be somewhat optimistic about how the school administration would handle it.

The issue was the parents, the party being negotiated with. That part did put a certain weight on me, and I found myself chewing at the straw between my lips. “And then about the parents…well, the loud ones anyway… If we can show them we’ve made compromises, while also helping them to feel like they made the decision themselves, then they’ll be satisfied and back off…”

A lot of the time, when people come in with loud complaints, grievances, and gripes, it’s not really about the complaint; their goal is just to beat someone else down. So if we made them think, I made the decision, I changed it, I had them apologize, it was quite plausible that would be enough for them.

But frankly, I had no definite proof of this.

This time, I was the one cocking my head. “…That’s what I think, but I dunno.” I sighed, thinking about Yukinoshita’s mother.

The one to come to the school had been Yukinoshita’s mother, rather than the parents with actual concerns about the prom, and that seemed like a single ray of hope. It was fair to assume she was just the messenger and that her statement was tied to her position as one of the trustees of the parents’ association, or her title as the wife of a local man of influence. At the very least, that was the impression I’d gotten from the way she’d talked initially.

But perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised by how that pseudoargument turned out, given she was the mother of the Yukinoshita sisters. As it went on, she’d seemed to get excited about it, too, and tangled us up in her logic. I think she may like arguing quite a lot. She’d jumped on Isshiki when she’d tried to counter her, after all. Or maybe that’s not quite right. Maybe what she really likes is to argue someone down and make them submit.

If that was what it was, I couldn’t be quite sure if Yukinoshita’s mother would simply withdraw.

So then we’ll need one more move, something else to deal with Mamanoshita, huh…? Aw man, I don’t wanna get involved in this—Mamanon’s way too scary for me…

Plus, at this stage, I didn’t have anything else.

“Well, I guess this means the only option is to suggest the possibility we’ll hold the event anyway while we have them select in a more controllable direction,” I concluded, spitting out my chewed-up, soggy straw.

“Huhhh,” said Yuigahama, impressed. “That’s kinda amazing… You should have a job like that! Something like handling complaints! You’re really suited to it!” Her eyes sparkled.

There was literally nothing pleasant about that statement. My expression immediately turned to one of legitimate disgust. “Please God no… I’m not cut out for it. And I’m not gonna get a job.”

But Yuigahama’s bright smile didn’t change. She giggled, apparently pleased.

No, really, I’m not cut out for it, okay? I mean, if you dealt with complaints like this as an employee of a regular company, it would obviously cause absolute disaster with the accounts. This was just within the unique environment of the school, and I was a freelancer of sorts, so it might just barely work. Properly speaking, complaints should always be managed in the same way.

Yes, tossing it all off on the higher-ups! Or turning it over to a call center to leave it to the pros.

“Anyway, our job hasn’t even started yet. The real bad part starts here.” I sighed deeply.

“So you mean…” Yuigahama folded her arms with a hmm, angling herself toward me.

Leaning on my folded hands in the Gendo pose, I continued with the utmost gravity. “We have to do this fake proposal right. And it has to be realistic and pretty legit. If not, we won’t even get to the choice stage.”

“I—I see…” Yuigahama drew back a bit.

I leaned further forward, chasing her down. “So we don’t have enough time or personnel, at all. And incidentally, we never had any money.”

“So, uh, you might as well ask, What do we have…?” Yuigahama drew back even more, smiling awkwardly.

I gave her a flippant smirk. “And so what I present to you is this. People with more than enough time and who will work for you even without pay…the students at our school. And if you act now, unlimited use is functionally free.”

“That’s totally exploitation!” Yuigahama held her head in her hands with a tearful waaa!

But with things as they were now, we had to completely burn out the professional personnel from our school, or this would never happen. This is the Soubu High School workplace reform, the Professional High System…

Yuigahama’s shoulders slumped, but then she peeked up at me from under her bangs. “But, like, would anyone even bother helping with a plan like that, if it’ll never get passed?”

“Yeah, that’s the issue…,” I said, looking up at the ceiling.

She was indubitably correct. Working for the ideal prom was one thing, but it was doubtful anyone would want to be the bait-doomed-to-lose-Yamcha of their own accord. They would have to be idiots, extremely naive simpletons, or high-end twisted people.

There was nothing for it but to give up on finding people in the standard way. So then our options were limited. “I guess we’ll try some good old-fashioned cajoling to gather as many as possible… If there’s no financial burden and we just brace for a lot of apologizing at the end, then maybe…” I folded my arms; if all I had to do was some bowing on the floor afterward, that’d be great.

That was when I heard a smothered sigh and looked over to see Yuigahama biting her lip, head hanging. Even without words, what she wanted to say got across well enough to make my chest hurt.

I shouldn’t have said something like that so flippantly. I’ve made so many mistakes like that.

Letting out a deep breath, I admonished myself. “…Uh, I guess I’ll try talking to people. I don’t think they’ll understand, but I’ll go after the ones who seem like they’re most likely to agree.”

“Yeah.” With a little nod, Yuigahama cracked a smile back at me.

I’d already gone wrong, but I at least didn’t want to make any more mistakes.

I had to find a different way of doing things. I had to stop being so careless.

After contacting all the people we could think of, we relaxed for a while. Out the window of Saize, you could see dusk approaching. Evening rush hour was still a ways away, but there were more people coming and going in front of the station.

The people we’d contacted replied, saying they’d meet us, so we were waiting for their arrival. In the meantime, we’d broken into an early-ish dinnertime.

Yuigahama was having a battle with the pizza in front of her, and with each aggressive fngh! came dangerous sounds. She didn’t seem accustomed to handling a pizza cutter with teeth, as the cutter and plate were colliding to create some concerning screeching and grinding.

Eventually, she finally got it cut up, letting out a “Phew” as she set a now sad-looking slice of pizza on a plate to offer it to me. “Here, Hikki.”

“Mm, thanks.” At this stage, it wasn’t anything you could call pizza shaped. But she was sharing, so how could I complain? Saize pizza is delicious, no matter how you eat it.

“Tabasco?” she asked.

“Ah, yeah, yeah. Thanks.” I took the hot sauce she placed in the middle of the table and shook it over my plate a few times, then munched on the pizza, now even more delicious.

Meanwhile, the pilaf and salad I’d also ordered came over. After this, we had some meat dishes coming, too. This was going to be a more luxurious meal than I’d expected. I have to message Komachi to tell her I don’t need dinner…

While I was tapping away on my phone, Yuigahama clicked a fork and spoon together like tongs. “Want salad?”

“Just a bit. Take out the tomatoes. Oh, and you can have all the shrimp. I’ll be full on the meat.”

“Really?! Yay! Wait, but eat your tomatoes. It’s not good to be a picky eater.”

“No, no, no. Tomatoes are so bleah. They’re all mushy. I really can’t stand them.”

“Huhhh? But that’s what’s nice about them.” She must have been used to portioning out salads, as she served it cleanly, with brisk grabs. I accepted it with a grateful nod.

Hnnngh… The gloopy part of the tomatoes is stuck to the lettuce… Squeezing my eyes tight, I swallowed it down mostly without chewing. Phew, no more tomato bits… I breathed a sigh of relief and opened my eyes to see Yuigahama, leaning on her palm and watching me with amusement.

“You’re kinda like a little kid,” she said teasingly with a tee-hee, then broke into a more mature smile. I knew she was the same age as me, but when she got into big sister mode, my eyes restlessly wandered all over the place. And with each shift of my gaze, her large, dewy, brilliant eyes that shone like angels’ halos, the indent of her collarbone, the fingers that swept her hair back over her ears, her broadly smiling glossy lips, the graceful curves of her long eyelashes, and her pink, soft-looking cheeks caught in my field of vision, and all of it pulled at my attention.

“Even most adults hate tomatoes…” Like Miss Hiratsuka… I grumbled under my breath, dropping my gaze. It was just kind of embarrassing, and I couldn’t look Yuigahama in the eye. I raised my head again and blew a long sigh. Agh, isn’t the heat up kind of high in this restaurant?

And then, in the distance, I saw the shameless approach of a familiar large frame.

Trench coat, fingerless gloves, and glasses. That in itself shouldn’t have felt off at this time of year, but the way he glanced around restlessly at the entrance made him exceptionally suspicious. That suspiciousness spoke most eloquently about who this was. This gentleman was none other than the man who had once dubbed himself the Master Swordsman General: Yoshiteru Zaimokuza.

When I raised a hand to catch his attention, Zaimokuza’s expression broke into a beaming smile as he waved his arm back at me and lumbered over to us. Why does this feel like I’ve tamed a wild bear…?

Then Yuigahama, who’d turned around to look, stood from her seat with her bag and circled over to my side of the table. “Mm.”

“Huh?”

Yuigahama stood next to me, holding her bag. Then she pouted. “Move over.”

“Oh, okay…” I shifted backward, and she plopped herself down in the newly created space. Why…? Is the possibility that Zaimokuza would sit beside her that unpleasant? Well, I wouldn’t want Zaimokuza coming up beside me, either, so I can understand that feeling… Still, isn’t this kind of close?! It’s making me nervous! I can’t focus on anything else!

As I was surreptitiously gasping and panting, Zaimokuza cleared his throat dramatically with a bafum, bafum and thumped himself down right in front of me. “Hachiman, what is the meaning of this summons?” His utter predictability was actually reassuring.

Ah, how calming. I can breathe easy.

“I’ll talk about it once everyone’s here. For now, just spot the differences.” I picked out the kids’ section from the menu left on the seat and offered it to Zaimokuza. The illustrations on the front and back of this kids’ menu may seem the same at first glance, but there are in fact ten differences. These things have a reputation for keeping children quiet as they wait until the food comes.

“Mm! …This is hard, huh?” Zaimokuza accepted the menu and immediately set on the task.

He responds so well to such poor treatment. I like how easy this is…, I thought, smiling carelessly. “If we’re both single at seventy, let’s live at the same senior care facility.”

“What a novel way to propose! Mayhap we could even buy an apartment for singles. Let us watch anime and play board games every day,” Zaimokuza replied to me lazily, not even turning my way as he kept on intently searching for the differences.

Beside us, Yuigahama was seriously freaked out. “Yikes…”

My phone vibrated—probably the other person I’d contacted, Saika Totsuka. Then by the time I picked up the phone, he was already there.

“Hachiman,” he called in a slightly more subdued tone than usual. Maybe it was because we were in public.

When I turned around, Totsuka was coming our way, tennis bag slung over his shoulder. He was wearing his usual tracksuit, a peacoat to stay warm, and a fine-weave handwoven-style scarf with pom-poms on the ends around his neck. His clothing was kind of mismatched, like he’d rushed over after practice, and he was breathing hard, his cheeks flushed from the outside cold. The contrast was a nice change of pace, and before I knew it, a smile was rising on my face as I lifted a hand in response.

Then my smile wrenched into a strange, tense shape.

Right behind Totsuka was a familiar bluish-black ponytail, accompanied by a black coat and tartan checkered scarf and liberally exposed long legs—and incongruously large shopping bags. Kawa-something’s sharp, cool face was currently also displeased. She tilted her head in greeting, and I bobbed mine back in return.

Then I immediately whispered to Yuigahama beside me, “Didn’t you say people who seemed like they’d get it?”

“You’re the one who invited the snowflake!” Yuigahama griped back, quietly but entirely huffily. She hit where it hurts. I had no comeback.

“Yeah, well… That’s, uh, hmm… Well, it’s true he’s not someone who gets it, generally…” …But, um, listen, I hardly have anyone I can talk to at all, you know?

Totsuka and Zaimokuza were the ones I’d called over, so obviously they fell into that category. I was acquainted with Kawasaki, so it was a fact that she was easier to talk to than others. If Miura or someone like that showed up one day, then I really wouldn’t be able to say anything.

Totsuka stepped over to sit down daintily next to Zaimokuza. Kawasaki grabbed a nearby chair and sat, crossing her legs and leaning her chin on her hand in a sideways seat.

“Thanks, Saki, Sai-chan. Want something to eat?” Yuigahama offered the menu with a bright smile.

Bashfully, Totsuka said, “Ah, then…I just finished with my club, so I am hungry.”

“I’m good… Just a drink,” Kawasaki answered curtly. She probably had to go home to cook. Most likely, she’d stopped by here on the way to pick up Keika. I shouldn’t take much of her time.

I’ll get this discussion going once Totsuka gets comfy… Oh yes, it seems only Mr. Zaimokuza here hasn’t quite been offered food, has he? I thought, glancing over to see his eyes were still locked on the kids’ menu.

“Hmmg! I still have yet to find seven…”

He hasn’t even found half. Three out of ten, huh?

I spent some time vacantly staring at Totsuka twirling forkfuls of pasta and putting them into his mouth, and then once we were all settled in, I decided to get started.

“First, sorry for calling you here so suddenly. Thanks for coming; it’s appreciated.” I gave a quick bob of a bow. Somehow expressly saying this was really embarrassing, and I couldn’t bear to actually see how they’d react. So I kept my head down for a while.

When I did, a satisfied-sounding sigh, a gently agreeing mm-hmm, a mildly confused noise, and a happy tee-hee reached my ears. I basically got who was the source of which reaction, which completely defeated the point of having my head down.

I cleared my throat loudly, then began with a bit of melodramatic flair. “So I have some unfortunate news.”

“Yes?” Zaimokuza straightened his posture to show he was listening, which was also unnecessary. Totsuka sat up nervously, while Kawasaki continued to lazily lean her cheek on her hand.

“Do you know what a prom is?” I asked.

“Nay, I do not. Therefore, I will now gain the knowledge.” Zaimokuza took out his phone. Looking it up before asking someone else—this guy is a pretty competent otaku. If he’d asked me what it is, I would have lectured him to show dominance: Just Google it. What do you think that box in front of you is for? You’ll find out if you just do a little research, you know.

I could tell when Zaimokuza had found the information by the loathing that appeared on his face. “Oh-ho… What is this fiendish event, existing merely to fulfill blue pill desires for recognition and transitory hedonism…? Once in university, those who glorify such events always become historical revisionists. My high school had a prom, they say, spreading the story around in special-event clubs, falsifying their pasts to play the part of cool partying socialites ever since high school…”

Zaimokuza slammed down his phone aggressively, and Totsuka peered over at it, impressed. Kawasaki didn’t say anything like Show meeee, just glancing over out of the corner of her eye.

“That’s the prom they’re trying to have at our school… But we’ve decided to oppose it,” I said.

Zaimokuza immediately clapped his knee. “So an anti-prom!”

“…Well, not quite, but not far off.”

“I see! So you are anti-prom after all!”

Did he learn the term anti-prom while looking up about proms just now…? Oh, that boy, whenever he learns a new word, he wants to use it everywhere…

As Zaimokuza was launching into a diatribe, I wound up heavily toning down my voice. “H-hmm… W-well, it would…mean that, I guess?”

“Huh?! Wait, what?!” Beside me, Yuigahama was shocked.

Shhh! Keep it down. You’re louder than both me and Zaimokuza. Also, don’t turn toward me; it makes stuff touch. Also stop grabbing my arm and shaking it.

As Yuigahama was swinging me around like, What is the meaning of this?! my eyes scanned the restaurant. Fortunately, it wasn’t crowded. There were empty seats here and there, and the four-seat booth right beside us was empty. So first I have to explain to Yuigahama one-on-one, huh…?

“G-give us a sec, okay? Could you wait for us a bit?” I took my leave from the others.

“Aye, doest as thou see fit.”

I understood that he’d given me permission (if nothing else), so I turned back to Yuigahama and made a pushing gesture with my hands in front of my chest. Yuigahama reluctantly stood from her seat. I climbed out after her, giving Totsuka and Kawasaki a nod in apology as I beckoned Yuigahama to sit down at a nearby table.

She gave me a dubious look as she sat down with me, then grabbed my shoulder and yanked me over to whisper, “What’s this about? Aren’t we doing a prom?”

“We are. That’s the plan… But it’s kinda hard to say that. And with Zaimokuza being Zaimokuza…it’s kind of a hassle to explain it in a way that won’t kill his motivation.”

I glanced over to see Zaimokuza orating sonorously to Totsuka about the atrocities of prom. Totsuka was skillfully making listening noises to indicate his attention, while Kawasaki was totally ignoring them and looking off in the other direction. The picture the three of them made together made me think of a snack bar at the edge of town.

Yuigahama’s eyebrows came together as she quietly chided me, “Huhhh? But you’ve gotta tell them.”

“I’m going to… Just, if something happens, please back me up. Please, thanks.” I put my hands together just a bit and bowed my head, and Yuigahama gave a reluctant sigh.

“…Agh. Guess I have to.” With a semi-exasperated smile, Yuigahama stood from her seat, and I followed her back to the previous table.

Complaining for a while must have cooled Zaimokuza down somewhat, as he gave us a deeply interested hermm? upon our return.

I cleared my throat again. “Ummm, so now I have an unfortunate announcement.”

“Yes?” Zaimokuza straightened up once again.

“Well…we are in opposition, but we’re not necessarily anti-prom. We’re going to have a prom.”

“Pardon?” Zaimokuza was kind of tilting his head, but his expression was basically entirely serious. Totsuka’s and Kawasaki’s reactions were similar. Well, it was no surprise they would react that way. They didn’t know what was actually going on, after all.

I wasn’t sure what to say, so Yuigahama quickly jumped in to add, “Yukinon and Iroha-chan are planning a prom, but the parents and school have told them they have to exercise self-restraint. So we’re coming up with a different plan, kinda.”

“…Hmm.” Kawasaki didn’t sound interested, but the information about “self-restraint” must have been new to her, as her eyes widened a bit.

“The parents’ association rejected Yukinoshita and Isshiki’s proposal once already,” I explained. “Even if they revise it and submit a new one, chances are it’ll be shot down again. So we plan to put together a new prom proposal. If there are two, we can probably turn the discussion to being about doing one or the other.”

“Does Yukinoshita know about this?” Kawasaki put it curtly, but I could see she was concerned.

I shook my head. “No, she doesn’t… I mean, I haven’t told her. Sorry, but please keep this to yourselves. If people find out what we’re after, it’ll kill the whole thing,” I answered.

Kawasaki gave me a dubious look, like, What? Totsuka’s reaction was milder, but he seemed bewildered, too.

Meanwhile, Zaimokuza was tapping his fingers on the table, nodding mm-hmm. “Herm. A double bind…presenting them with a false premise, eh? The psychological technique of presenting multiple options and having them choose one to prevent them from rejecting both…”

“Yeah, I guess you could put it like that.” It wasn’t strictly speaking what Zaimokuza had described, since we didn’t have all the conditions lined up to induce the parents’ response, but that was the basic intent.

Totsuka had been nodding along, as if sorting out the information. “I see,” he said softly. “So that’s why you’re opposing the prom.”

“…Yeah. So I want you guys to help me think up a plan for the new prom…” The part after this would be really hard to say, and my lips were fighting me.

When I got stuck there, Totsuka straightened his posture, looking me right in the eyes. His usual softness had been replaced by a sort of dignity. “I’ll hear you out, Hachiman. If I don’t, I won’t really understand what’s going on again, and I kind of don’t want that.” Though his shyness crept up on him as he spoke, there was a determination in his tone.

I hadn’t even considered Totsuka would feel that way, so I didn’t know what to say. But I quickly realized—it was true that I never said anything to anyone. No…I’d give up on talking before I even started. I’d always just self-centeredly ended things my way. From his perspective, that must have seemed terribly dishonest.

Totsuka took a few deep breaths in and out, as if easing his tension, and then seemed to steel himself as he continued. “What do you want to do, Hachiman?” I couldn’t quite grasp what he meant by that, so I gave him a questioning look in return.

Totsuka scratched his cheek as if he were a bit at a loss. “You didn’t seem like you really wanted to do the prom, so I was a little worried… And it’s kind of weird, not saying anything to Yukinoshita. So I wondered if maybe what you really wanted to do was something else.”

“I mean, well…” I was about to reply with whatever came to mind, but Totsuka’s serious gaze stopped me.

“Sorry, maybe it’s hard to say with everyone here. But we want to understand you, too, Hachiman.”

My words caught in my throat.

All the people sitting opposite me looked at me—straight on, sideways, in a glance, or awkwardly, as if they couldn’t stand the tension.

As I searched the walls for some kind of response, Yuigahama gave me a look of concern. “Hikki…” Her hand plucked the cuff of my sleeve under the table. Feeling that warmth, I closed my eyes.

Yeah, I know. I have to say it this time.

I’d always wished for this kind of support. There was a bit of a different lineup here, but it was the same situation. Before, I’d hidden everything, borrowed reasons from others, and depended on their kindness.

But now, things were different. Even if it was pathetic and spineless, at the very least, I would not lie.

It didn’t make any logical sense, and there wasn’t necessarily any truth there, either, but they would be my own words. Nothing borrowed or temporary.

“Honestly, I don’t care much about the prom itself… Yukinoshita is trying to do this on her own. So she doesn’t want help from me.” I slowly closed my eyes again. “But I still want to…make their prom happen.”

Once I’d gotten it all out, my eyes met with Totsuka’s. He was smiling wide. He gave me a big nod. Then finally, the thing that had been constricting my chest was released, and I let out a long sigh. “The proposal I’m trying to put together is basically a throwaway. A fake so we can get through what we really want. So if you’re okay knowing it’ll be for nothing, then help me out.”

Bowing my head, I waited for their replies. The hand on my sleeve squeezed harder.

The silence was really only a moment. But after a barely audible exhalation, nobody quite spoke.

Eventually, there was a deeper sigh. Lifting my head, I saw Kawasaki looking apologetic.

“Sorry. I’m already helping Yukinoshita. I can’t go half in on that. I have to do it.” She’d moved her elbow from the table, and now her hands were in her lap, back straight in her seat. This upright version of her was enchanting.

“…Okay, I get that. Actually, it’s great if you could help them. Since that one is the real plan. Thanks,” I said.

Kawasaki jerked her face away. “I don’t need to hear that from you…,” she rushed to say, then added more quietly, “But good luck.”

Totsuka, who’d been watching her with a pleasant smile, followed up with, “I have club activities, so I can’t help with everything, either… But if you need some extra hands, tell me. I’ll bring the whole tennis club to pitch in. I’m the captain, after all.” He tapped his chest.

My expression relaxed. “Thanks. I’m counting on you.” It wasn’t like we functionally had any more people to work, but it was honestly encouraging to have that insurance if needed. What helped most of all was having people I could rely on.

When I breathed a private sigh of relief, there was a tap-tap on my cuff. Even without words, that gesture whispered, That’s great. I was too embarrassed to look at her, so I just gave her a little nod in reply.

It’s not like we’ve made big progress. But now we can move forward, just a little…, I thought. Zaimokuza, who had yet to reply, was making a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl.

“Ferm…” He seemed lost in thought, and then suddenly he was on his feet. Inferring what he wanted, Kawasaki and Totsuka got up to let him out of the booth. Zaimokuza nodded his thanks at both of them, then cut through with a flattened hand to get past. When he was finally out in the aisle, he turned away from me and straightened his back sharply again.

“…Around this time, probably the Nishi-Chiba Lucky. Or no, maybe Numa Ace,” Zaimokuza muttered, pulling out his phone.

Yuigahama and I exchanged dubious looks. When she asked What’s that mean? with her eyes, I could only answer silently I dunno with a shake of my head. All that I got was that what he’d said were the names of arcades.

But I needed closure on this, so I said, “Um, Zaimokuza? Hello?”

Zaimokuza turned back around halfway, hand still in his pocket, with a cool smile on his face. “…Well, now we just do it.”

It was a weirdly theatrical pose, but for some reason, it looked good on him, just this once, and my eyes widened. Whoa, there. He’s actually cool.

“You have need of men, right? Make some time on the morrow. I’ll send word,” Zaimokuza said, then immediately strode off. I was so oddly affected I couldn’t do anything but stare at first.

Hurriedly getting up, I called out after him. “Sorry, thanks.”

Then Zaimokuza stopped. “Wait! And hope!”

The sight of him filled my vision, trench coat fluttering, arm thrust out, his voice loud and ringing.

Come on, man, seriously. Don’t do that inside the restaurant… Okay, I’ll admit it. That was kinda cool.