Chapter 8 - The Reason Behind Those Tears

“I’m gonna stop by the bookstore on my way home,” spoke Nanaka, as soon as they exited the ticket gates at Niigata Station.

Kai knew that there was a sizable bookstore below ground floor in the building directly next to the station and figured Nanaka was planning on going there. But that meant he’d need to make it all the way over to the other end of the train station to join her. There was a stairway that acted as a shortcut to her destination, so Kai decided to walk with her until that point.

“Alright then,” he said. “I’ll see you.”

“U-Um!” she called out to him as he was splitting away and stopped him in his tracks. She was standing still in front of the staircase with a troubled expression on her face.

Both of her hands were gripping tightly at her skirt like she was wringing out every ounce of courage she’d ever be able to muster. “The reason you said I was amazing earlier is because I’m a planner,” she said. “...Right?”

Kai had braced himself in anticipation, but all that came his way was a confirmation of what he had said earlier. Why would she bother to confirm that? he wondered. He found it a bit strange but, on second thought, noted that there might have been something that Nanaka personally found important.

“Like you said yourself, your illustrations aren’t quite as good as someone like Kuroba-san,” he told her. “Still, I think it’s more than enough for a planner to wield as a weapon. At the very least, it’s a weapon I don’t have.”

Kai had no intention of lying or embellishing his praise any more than necessary. He thought that Nanaka simply lacked confidence in herself due to her inexperience as a planner. This was exactly why he’d wanted to let her know that she had an edge which other planners didn’t.

...And yet, why? Why were there tears flowing out of her eyes as she stood before him?

“I-I’m sorry,” she said hastily. Nanaka seemed startled herself, like she didn’t expect her own reaction. She turned around and dashed up the stairs. Her unwiped tears were shaken off by the momentum of her movement and danced through the air, illuminated by red rays of the nearly set sun.

Kai didn’t understand the reason. He didn’t understand, but knew he needed to chase after her. Yet the moment that thought crossed his mind, his vision blacked out.

The dull sensation of impact slowly caught up to him, and an intense pain spread throughout his face, particularly near his eye. As he held his hand to the source of his pain, Kai finally realized that something had hit him in the face. He pushed through the pain to look down and noticed a pack of sasa dango laying at his feet.

‘Sasa dango’ was about as literal as a name could get; it was dango wrapped in bamboo leaves, where ‘sasa’ simply meant bamboo. It was one of the most famous Japanese sweets in Niigata, although Kai only knew this because Misako brought some for him to eat when he first moved.

Of course, there had been no sasa dango at his feet just a moment ago. He didn’t quite know where they came from, but he figured that was what hit him in the face.

Kai was bending down to pick it up when a shadow appeared over his outstretched hand, and a pair of loafers stopped directly in front of the dango.

He picked up the sweets and looked up to see an enraged Eru standing tall before him. “Go find a way to drop yourself into hell, will you, dear?” she said challengingly. Which meant that she was the one who threw the sasa dango at him.

“How... sudden,” he managed to say.

The scene of their standoff was in the middle of a busy passageway during rush hour, so a large crowd of people seemed annoyed as they made their way around them. Eru didn’t seem to care one bit. Her right eye, uncovered by her long bangs, was bathed in a fiery rage of vengeance.

“Might I ask why you’re helping her?” she asked venomously.

“...You mean, Aoi-san?” Kai replied.

“I’m certain you have some ulterior motive.”

“Huh?”

“How unsightly,” Eru said. “I’ve seen so many boys get the wrong idea with her. It’s been this way since we were little. My dear Nanaka is cute, is a good person, and treats everybody kindly. It’s my role to chase off the moronic monkeys that fall in love and find themselves infatuated with the fantasy that she’s especially fond of them.”

“That’s not what I—” Kai tried to say, before Eru cut him off.

“Oh, then I’m sure you don’t like her, then?” she taunted.

“Well—”

“I’m sure you don’t like her, then?”

“I—”

“You don’t like her, then?” Eru insisted a third time.

“I... don’t know.” Kai wanted to tell her she was wrong, but the words wouldn’t take shape in his mouth. Nanaka was cute; that was a fact. When he’d first met her, he thought that they lived in completely different worlds. If they didn’t have social games as a middle man, they probably never would have had a conversation. No, definitely.

Yet now, Kai found himself talking to her in a fairly close manner, and it would be a lie to say that he wasn’t happy about that. Maybe “infatuated” was a fitting word after all. But to ask him not to feel his heart throb when talking to such a cute person—and seeing her cute smile—was simply an impossible task.

It was just that... he wasn’t sure if that was what constituted “liking” someone else. Kai himself thought that it was only natural that he didn’t get it. While all his classmates gossiped about love, he was off on his own playing social games. There was no way he’d understand the finer subtleties of an emotion like that. So, with all honesty, he didn’t know whether the beating in his chest when he was with Nanaka was him “liking” her or not.

That being said, Eru seemed to have come to a conclusion of her own, and the look in her eye had switched from wrath to one of sneerful disdain. “I don’t care if you’re from Tsukigase,” she said, “or wherever else. If you’re helping her out of some unbecoming ulterior motive, then I’ll have you disappear, quickly.”

“That’s—not it,” Kai said. This time, the words came out reflexively. “I’m not helping Aoi-san for an ulterior motive.”

Eru likely hadn’t expected that response from him, because she flinched lightly in response. “T-Then, why are you helping my dear girl?”

“...I just couldn’t leave her be,” he admitted. Initially it all began with anger; Kai couldn’t forgive the Student Council President when he casually remarked that social games had no value. That man didn’t understand how much went into creating a single social game and had the nerve to spit on it anyway. Kai couldn’t stay silent in the face of that.

And because of that arrogant idiot, Kai found himself unable to leave a social game club on the brink of ruin—to leave Nanaka—alone. Like and hate had nothing to do with it.

“I don’t think I’m a particularly talented planner...” he told her slowly. “But if I’m able to help in any way, even the slightest amount... I want to. That’s why I’m doing this.”

“...You truly should find your way to hell,” said Eru, whose emotional state seemed to go past anger and wrap back around to disinterest as her expression cooled to a cold stare. “If you continue to help her, my dear Nanaka is going to cry again.”

“What do you mea—” Kai tried to ask, but she had no intention of staying any longer.

“I only bought these because Nanaka likes them...” Eru grumbled. “How detestable.” She snatched the sasa dango out of Kai’s right hand and quickly turned her back to him, signaling that their conversation was over. She didn’t so much as glance back as she walked out of sight.

◇

Kai was a bundle of nerves when he got home.

Nanaka had already given him her contact information, and it would have been easy for him to text or LIME her. He wanted to ask her one simple question: why did she cry? Of course, he wouldn’t have been out of sorts to begin with if he had the courage to ask.

In the end, his worries amounted to nothing as he failed to bring himself to do anything by the time the next morning arrived.

Nanaka was nowhere to be found along the route to school, even inside the train station. When Kai made it to his classroom, she was already there, happily chatting away with her classmates. There wasn’t the faintest hint of yesterday’s tears in her voice and expressions.

“Ah! Morning, Shiraseki-kun!” She called out cheerfully.

“G-Good morning,” he cautiously replied.

On the contrary, she gave Kai a cheerful greeting as soon as she noticed him. Kai didn’t get it. What was he supposed to do? With his troubled mind, his classes in Modern Japanese, Mathematics, and English all sounded as though he was listening to an unknown alien language.

From Kai’s seat in the far back next to the window, he could see Nanaka’s back and a tiny glimpse of her face from the side. Based on what he could observe, she wasn’t any different from her usual, bright self. In fact, it was almost as if what occurred yesterday had been some sort of illusion—like he had dreamed the whole thing up.

But when class let out for the day and Nanaka walked over to him, he noticed something. “Let’s go to our club, Shiraseki-kun.”

“...Um, aren’t you tired?” he asked. Until she walked up to him, Kai had only viewed her from a distance. However, once they were right next to each other, he could see the differences in her face. Because of her fair skin, they stood out even more: two deep bags underneath her eyes that hadn’t been there the day before.

“Uhh, well... A bit,” Nanaka admitted. “That doesn’t matter, though. C’mon, let’s go.” She pulled him up to his feet by grabbing onto his sleeve.

Usually Kai wouldn’t have been able to keep himself calm if something like that happened. But now, the thought didn’t even cross his mind.

Something’s off about her, he reaffirmed. Then out loud, he said, “Hey, Aoi-san.”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“Well... It’s about yesterday.”

“...Yesterday?” Nanaka said. “Did something happen yesterday?”

Kai couldn’t bring himself to speak as Nanaka stopped to twirl around and smile at him in the middle of the hallway as they walked to the clubroom.

No. Kai couldn’t? It was more that Nanaka wouldn’t let him. The smile on her face was different from anything that Kai had seen on Nanaka before. It had the message, “I won’t tell you anything,” plastered all over it.

“Let’s go,” she said, and began walking before Kai could respond.

At that exact moment, Aya appeared at the other end of the hallway walking toward them. “Ohhh!” she said. “Nana-sen, nice timing!”

“Oh? What’s up, Ah-chan?”

“I won’t be showing up at the club no matter what for a bit!” Aya told them breezily. “Alright, see ya!”

“Huh?”

“Wha?”

Kai and Nanaka had the exact same reaction.

“Weeeellll, I got home yesterday and bam, HUGE SHOCKER! A buncha gacha that I have to roll on came out at the same time...!! So, if I have time for club, then I have time to work! A job! I already work a lot at my part time job but now I gotta do even more!”

“B-But we—our club, we need to win at the next competition or—” Nanaka stammered.

“Mmm, that’s true! That’s a yikes! But if I don’t roll now, this gacha might never come back!” Aya said dismissively. “This is why! This is why time-limited gacha are so...!!!”

“That... might be the case, but...!” Nanaka tried to retort.

“Anyway, that’s how it is, so I’ll catch you later!” Aya finished her last statement with a smile and went on her way like a tornado tearing through the hallway.

“...L-Let’s just go to the clubroom for now.” Nanaka said after Aya left.

“Y-Yes, let’s.”

They went to the clubroom just as they said they would, but it wasn’t as if that changed anything about their situation. Thinking back on Eru’s actions from yesterday, if they played their cards wrong, it wouldn’t be a surprise if she didn’t come to the clubroom for a while, either.

Kai and Nanaka took their seats across the table from each other and sighed.

“...What do we do?” The words quietly slipped out of Nanaka’s mouth, so that must have been how she truly felt.

“Let’s do what we can,” he offered.

Nanaka was a little surprised, as she hadn’t expected an immediate answer.

If sitting around sighing together progressed their plans for the competition, then Kai would have loved to do so. That wasn’t a possibility, though. You had to walk to arrive somewhere, and only then would the view around you change.

Besides, Kai knew that this kind of thing happened in social game clubs. Sometimes a bug would appear and the programmer responsible for that code would be sick with the flu, causing everyone to lose their minds while trying to contact him. Other times, an illustrator would get art-blocked right before the release of an event and wouldn’t have anything to turn in. Sometimes, a planner would go in circles trying to figure out the specifications and nothing would get started. No matter the situation, you had to do whatever you could.

“Yesterday, we decided what we’re going to change, correct?” he said.

“Y-Yeah,” Nanaka agreed. “We said usability improvements, right? Specifically, the UI and leading lines.”

“However, we didn’t decide how we’re going to change it. So, starting today—”

“Oh, wait!” Nanaka thrust out her hands to stop him and continued where Kai left off. “We’re going to make a specification document. Right?”

“Y-Yes,” Kai agreed in surprise. “That’s correct.”

A huge grin emerged on Nanaka’s face as she heard her answer was right. “That means even if Ah-chan and Eru aren’t here, we can keep working!”

“Exactly.”

When it came to the management of social games, the most crucial part of a planner’s job was the specification document. There were many people who thought a planner’s job was to come up with a proposal for “what kind of game to make,” but the reality was slightly different. The idea that a planner would come up with a new game from scratch was well-spread but uncommon in practice.

Especially in the field of social games, where the basic goal was to continue managing a single game for an extended period of time, a planner’s job often revolved around management skills as opposed to development skills. This meant that writing up proposals and specification documents detailing in-game events and feature updates were the main duties of a planner.

Usually, a required step in the process would be to take your event or feature update and explain to upper management: “This is what our next event will look like,” or “These are the features we’ll change.” If they gave the go-ahead, then you’d round up the programming and graphic teams to explain the gist of your plans. Finally, after all that was said and done, you’d begin writing a formal specification document.

So the truth was, Kai wanted Aya and Eru to show up at the club by now. There was the chance that a programmer might look at a planner’s proposal and say “No way, this is impossible.” The illustrator could offer similar resistance. The planner’s proposal could cause strange screen composition, or their ideas could be difficult to fit into the game’s graphics.

In order to avoid such risks, he wanted to have everyone together as soon as the initial proposal was set in stone so they could figure out what was in the realm of possibility and share points of difficulty or concern before moving forward.

But there was nothing he could do about it now. Seeing as Aya and Eru weren’t there, what would likely happen was that Kai and Nanaka would make a best-case-scenario specification document and then they’d complete whatever they could afterward.

“Could it be that you’ve made specification documents in the past?” he ventured.

“No... That’s not quite it,” Nanaka answered bashfully and reached over to the bag sitting on the chair next to her. She took out five books and laid them out in a line across the table. They all had to do with game development, and specifically the planner’s role in game development. A handful of tags stuck out the top of each one, letting Kai know that she had carefully read through every book.

“Shiraseki-kun, you taught me a lot yesterday. And I thought to myself, ‘I’m no good as I am now.’ I didn’t know anything... Being taught is good, too, but I figured I needed to study on my own first.”

“...Huh?” said Kai. “Are you telling me the reason you went to the bookstore yesterday...”

“Yup, it was so I could buy these. I was reading them last night, and it was morning before I knew it, so the bags under my eyes are crazy. It’s a bit embarrassing... ahaha.”

Kai couldn’t take his eyes off of Nanaka and her sheepish, laughing face. I’m sure you don’t like her, then? In his mind, the words Eru cast over him yesterday came back to life. He hadn’t known how to answer that question then. But if he were to be asked the same question again now, he’d know his answer. It was harder not to like someone who’d give it their all like Nanaka.

“Oh, also! I read a lot, so there’s also a lot of parts that I didn’t understand,” she said in a rush. “All the parts I marked with tags are things I didn’t get. If you’d be willing to help me with them, that’d make me really happy.”

“So long as I know the answer, ask away.” Kai’s response was so fast that it was basically a verbal pounce.

Nanaka was taken aback with how enthusiastic he was. “Y-Yeah, thanks... Shiraseki-kun, are you okay? You seem kind of into it right now.”

“I just... I realized that I want to give it my all, too,” said Kai. After seeing what Nanaka had done, there was no way he wouldn’t be inspired.

Her eyes opened wide for a moment, and her face morphed into a beaming smile. “I see! Then let’s do our best together!”

After that, Kai prioritized answering Nanaka’s questions over writing up the specification document. His reasoning was that some of her questions were directly linked to writing a specification document, and he wanted to clear up any confusion before they began, as that would let them create a better final product.

One by one, they went through each book and Kai answered as many questions as there were tabs sticking out of the book. But when they got to the final book, his hands stopped. The title was A Planner’s Job. The author was the president of the Tsukigase Private School Social Game Club—Kurenai Akane.

“This is the person that’s like God to you, right?” Nanaka checked. “It’s amazing to think that she even has her own book.”

“...Yes. The reason I know enough to work as a proper planner is because the pres—because of her,” Kai admitted. “I showed you the data I logged on my laptop before, but Kurenai-san was the one who told me to do so in the first place...”

A terrible aftertaste sank into his chest after he almost called her “president,” because he didn’t have the right to call her that anymore. He took more of her precious time than anyone else, and yet he didn’t manage to pay her back any of it. All he managed to do was drag her name through the mud and run away.

—Oh, this is bad. By the time he’d had that thought, it was too late; that terrible feeling came rising up through his gut all at once. Kai tried to regain his composure, but the awful chills were too much. At the very least, he tried to hide his face.

“Sh-Shiraseki-kun?!” Nanaka exclaimed in concern.

“I... I’m... Fine...” he said weakly.

“You’re as white as a sheet! There’s no way you’re fine! W-What’s wrong?! Is it because of the book?!”

“...No, it’s not. I’m merely feeling a bit under the weather... Don’t worry about me.”

“Don’t worry...?”

Kai could tell what she was trying to say. He’d seen himself in the mirror when he was like this in the past. At the time he’d thought to himself, This guy might die. His face had been white as death, drained of all its color. He knew his face now was probably something like that. Being told, ‘Don’t worry about me’ by someone who looked like that was unreasonable.

Even so, that was what had to be done. “Let’s continue,” he said doggedly.

“N-No! We can save it for tomorrow, okay?”

“There’s no school tomorrow... We have to do it today.”

“That’s true, but—”

“Among all the books you have, that one is the one you need to read the most.” As he spoke, Kai noticed that he was slowly calming down. He took deep breaths and reset his breathing.

Alright, he told himself, I’m okay. Out loud, he said, “So, let’s give it a go.” Ignoring the worried look on Nanaka’s face, he reached out to open the cover. And as he went on to explain the details of a book he’d read countless times before, their time after school went by in the blink of an eye.