Loss 4: A Girl Called Yakishio Lemon

Loss 4: A Girl Called Yakishio Lemon

Loss 4:

A Girl Called Yakishio Lemon

F IVE DAYS HAD FLOWN BY SINCE YANAMI’S BIG announcement , and it was time for the third semester’s closing ceremony. As was always the case on occasions like this, a surreal, dreamlike quality permeated the day. Even after the ceremony, as final grades were handed out, that feeling never quite left.

I closed my report card. Down from last semester. Gradually, the classroom quieted, the buzz naturally falling to a murmur, and then silence.

When everyone had returned to their seats, Amanatsu-sensei began, “So. Spring break is upon us. Next time I see your mugs, you’ll be second-years.” A serious face for serious talk. I sat up straight. “You’re all gonna split. Some of you to sciences, some of you to humanities. But wherever you go, it ain’t gonna be here. Take one last look at all your classmates.” Sensei took a moment to do so herself, burning the view from her podium into her retinas. “But you’re in good company. We all go through it every April. Everyone’s nervous. Everyone’s unsure. Remember that when you’re meeting new people, and you’ll be just fine.”

It had been a memorable year, that was for sure. I’d gone from talking to basically nobody to actually having a social circle. A community. Sometimes they felt like trouble, but never more than they were worth.

“So you folks go on and live your lives,” Sensei went on. “I’ll remember it all for ya. I’ll remember that you were class 1-C so you can run off and be somethin’ else. Your job’s to make sure it’s something you’re proud of.”

She might have had a rocky start, what with forgetting who I was, but I’d come around to Amanatsu-sensei. She’d even introduced the lit club to our current supervisor. The fact that it was Konuki-sensei was questionable, but I considered it a net positive, all things considered.

Her shoulders dropped, her spiel coming to an end. “You’re the fifth class I’ve said all this to, and I gotta say, it never really gets any easier.” She sniffled and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

She was crying. For all her quirks, she really did care. A respectful silence filled the classroom.

“Or wait, are you the sixth? Fourth? When did I get chewed out for forgetting report cards at home? My third year?”

And there went the respect. That was our Amanatsu-chan.

“Anyway, I’ll be seeing you folks around. Maybe we’ll be stuck together again. Maybe I’ll be teaching one of your classes. Either way, y’all better be nice to me!” She smacked the podium with the class roster. Just like always. “Dismissed! Class 1-C, you’re outta here!”

***

Homeroom had ended not even after noon. There was a class party later, so there wasn’t much melancholy as people got up and around. I had been invited to it, for the record. I’d just declined. Cross my heart.

The class was empty now. I stared at the blank blackboard, my mind wandering to sentimental places.

“Whole lot’s changed,” I muttered.

Almost a year ago, I’d had no friends. Now I was racing the school’s track star. A girl who was impossible to hate. A girl who had a million friends and could have had any boy she wanted.

So why me?

Over the dozens upon hundreds of times I’d asked myself that question, not once had I found an answer. I doubted I’d ever find one. Not now. Not even at the end of the finish line. So the energy I’d spend wondering would be better spent elsewhere. Doing things that mattered more.

“You seriously never change, dude.” I felt the tension leave me. In sauntered Yanami Anna, twirling around, taking in our old classroom, before taking a seat at the desk next to mine. “I thought you were busy. Busy enough to skip the party, anyway.”

“I’m meeting the president later.”

“Yeah? ’Course you are.” She always made that same disgruntled face every time the president came up. Jealousy, I assumed. Houkobaru Hibari was in a whole other league, after all. Some girls had it all.

“Aren’t you going to the party?”

“Duh. I’m just killing time.”

Here to say goodbye to the classroom then? How uncharacteristically corny.

She leaned back against the chair, stretching her arms out. “This year sure flew, huh?”

“It really did.”

It’d flown. But it had also crawled. Looking back, somehow it was both at once.

Yanami balanced the chair on its back legs. “I had big ideas in my head when I first got here, y’know. It’s high school, right? I was gonna live it up like in all the movies and TV shows.” The chair creaked. “Yeah. That went about as well as you’d think.” She gave a tired smile. I saw hints of embarrassment. Hints of resignation.

What were those ideas exactly, I wondered. What had her ideal high school life been? Something to do with Hakamada, no doubt. Late nights studying. Going on dates. Bickering.

“It was hard at first,” she continued, “being in the same class as Sousuke and Karen-chan. But I had good friends. And you, well…”

“Me?” I parroted.

She didn’t answer me directly. But she did smirk. “It turned out all right, I guess.”

It’d turned out all right. After all the tears and the pain, that was the culmination. The ending to her first year of her not-so-idyllic high school career. I was happy for her. I didn’t have any reason to be. But I was. Her tears and her pain hadn’t been for nothing.

Yanami clunked and scooted her chair over to me. “Hey, did you hear what they’re saying about the new classes?” I shook my head, much to her satisfaction. “They’re splitting up the couples.”

“Wow. Really?” Not my finest work, as far as feigning interest went.

It was enough to egg her on, though. “That means Sousuke and Karen-chan are gonna be in different classes next year. And on top of that, I’ve got a real chance at getting put in the same one as Sousuke. Know what that means?”

“I swear if you say you’re going homewrecker mode…”

Bad idea. Horrible idea.

She waved her hand, half-heartedly dismissing my very real concerns. “As if I’d do that to my two best friends.”

“Is that what you call them?” I doubted that she even knew the meaning.

“Listen and open your mind, Nukumizu-kun. Seventy percent of high school couples break up within half a year.”

“That many?”

Yanami nodded with grave sincerity. “Like, okay, I obviously want the best for them and hope it doesn’t happen, but the numbers don’t lie. Seventy percent , Nukumizu-kun.”

“Okay?”

“Picture this. Sousuke’s just lost the love of his life. His soulmate. What am I, his trusted childhood friend, to do? Obviously, I gotta be there for him. Look me in the eye and tell me that’s not prime material for a new romance.”

Get him while he was weak and his standards were low. An excellent strategy. The queen of limbo looked wistfully up at the ceiling.

“They’ve been dating for longer than half a year already,” I pointed out. “Aren’t they out of the danger zone?”

“That’s true. If anything, things are going better than ever for them.”

In which case, I struggled to imagine a change of class doing much to strain their relationship. Also, all this was hinged entirely on the scenario in which Yanami got put in the same class as Hakamada.

“Guess I’m getting a new class too,” I said.

“Did you forget?”

“No, I mean, I knew. I’m just kinda absorbed in the race next week.”

It was hard not to be, considering I couldn’t stop thinking this would be it. That this was the final hurdle standing in the way of normalcy. If only we could overcome it. But the world wouldn’t wait for that. Time marched on, and with it would go the status quo. All the things plaguing Yakishio’s mind—even those weren’t immune to that ceaseless flow.

“How’s practice going?” I asked.

“Oh, Lemon-chan’s totally in the zone!” Yanami beamed like it was she who’d earned the praise.

Two and a half seconds. That was all the handicap I was going to get. Even if I got my time down to average, if Yakishio broke her record, it wouldn’t be enough to win. And Yanami was beaming.

That record was getting broken for sure.

“We’re going for the gold, just so you know,” she said, thrusting her fist out at me. “Team Yakishio’s got no losers.”

I bumped it and smiled back. “Don’t try too hard.”

***

There was a small, rickety prefab not far from the athletic fields. Small and rickety was enough to house workout equipment. It served its purpose. Mostly for the sports teams, but they weren’t around, what with the closing ceremony and all that.

“Five more,” the president barked. “Legs straight.”

“I can’t even lift them.”

“Find a way. You’re arching your back. That’s three extra.”

“Oh my god…”

I was lying flat on a bench, legs extended straight out. With great effort, I lifted them. Up and down. That was the only movement. And it would have been so much easier without the president pushing down on my thighs the entire time.

Set complete. I became a puddle of exhaustion.

The president patted me on the stomach. “Take five. Next, we’ll make use of the equipment.”

This wasn’t that lazy crap I got away with at home. Working out for real, especially your core, friggin’ sucked. What was worse, this was apparently easy mode, a regimen specifically tailored to people like me who didn’t do jack all day.

I sat up on the bench and fanned my face with my hand. “This feels just as hard as day one. You sure this is working?”

“It’s supposed to be hard. I’m adjusting your routine to ensure it continues to be. Rest assured, this is all for the sake of improving your dexterity.” She fiddled with her phone as she spoke, likely doing the aforementioned adjusting. We used the same app, and our data was synced. Which of course meant she’d know the moment I skipped a day.

I did not mind the attention.

“I really can’t thank you enough for all this,” I said.

“Please. It’s for a good cause.” She put her phone away and sat next to me.

A good cause. Something told me she didn’t mean improving my health.

“The student council has a vested interest in Yakishio, I’m guessing.”

The president smiled, amused at my honesty. “I won’t deny it. I hope that doesn’t offend you.”

“Not at all. She’s a commodity. I understand why people don’t want her to just up and quit what she does best.”

She stayed quiet for a while before facing me. “I assume you’ve heard that I used to run in junior high school.”

“I did, yes. From Basori-san.”

“It was my second year. At a city-wide meet. I ran with her once.”

“And you…?”

“Lost? Oh, yes. It wasn’t even a contest.” She crossed her legs, grinning quaintly. “She competed in five events. And she stood on the first place pedestal five times.”

My talk with Ayano came to mind.

“The fifteen-hundred,” the president went on. She spoke quietly, as if carefully unearthing her own memories. “It was the fifteen-hundred that sparked the most commotion, as I recall.”

“How so?”

“She broke a prefectural record. It was nothing to sneeze at, let me tell you. Her time was competitive on a national level. And this from a first-year just making her debut. Ultimately, it was deemed an error and made unofficial.”

Yakishio was incredible. Even so long ago.

“She said she never went to nationals, though. Why?”

“She…competed in a prefectural meet once. But only in the hundred-meter.” She stood and approached a piece of workout equipment by the wall. “She placed, but not well enough to take a spot on the podium. That’s the furthest her career went. To my knowledge, she never took it further.” She beckoned to me as she adjusted the weights. “But Yakishio-kun’s left an impression on me. I worried that an injury had slowed her, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

“Yeah, no. She still runs at pretty much every opportunity.”

“Yet she’s chosen you as her opponent. Not a fellow runner. You. To say I’m not intrigued would be a lie.” She and I fixed the equipment up, and before I knew it, I was straddling it. “Leg curls next.”

Leg curls were where you lay on your stomach and brought your calves up to your thighs. Really worked your hamstrings. It friggin’ sucked.

“So, uh, this practically killed me last time.”

“Exactly. Just think of the rush you’ll feel.”

Oh, I’d feel a rush. Mostly to do with the pretty woman forcing me to do physical labor more than any workout, though. I decided I could roll with these punches.

I distracted myself from the intense burning in my thighs by considering what Madam President had told me. On top of hers, I’d heard stories from both the captain of the track team, Kurata-senpai, and Ayano Mitsuki, and they all seemed to connect under one common theme. There, I would find whatever it was that had been eating at Yakishio for so long.

But find it was all I could do. I couldn’t face it for her.

“Ten,” President Houkobaru counted. “Up for more?”

The fatigue hit me all at once. I collapsed into a puddle again. “I’m good. My legs are jelly.”

“Let them rest, then. We’ll go back to abs in the meantime, then do one more set.” Quite the restful idea. As I squirmed to my feet, she suddenly felt my ankle. “I haven’t heard your report today. How’s the pain?”

I realized then that there was none at all. The day we started, we’d called it a ten. “Today feels like a zero.”

She grinned wide. “Then we assemble on the field at seven tomorrow.”

***

Seven tomorrow came. Together with President Houkobaru, draped in a padded bench coat, were the usual Tiara-san and their treasurer, Sakurai-kun. Plus one unusual addition.

“Oniisama! Look this way!”

Wielding a pair of rounded fans, one scrawled with “Notice me!” and another with “Big Love (heart),” and hopping around like a total dweeb was, unfortunately, my own sister, Kaju.

“Nukumizu-san, step a little to the side,” Tiara-san commanded, camera in hand. “You look much more natural to the left of the president.” And it was one of those murder weapon types with the massive lens. Where she got a reflex camera from, I had no idea.

“You trying to take pictures of our pores?” I quipped.

“Don’t be ridiculous. The president has no pores.”

I wasn’t touching that can of worms.

Finishing up talking with Sakurai-kun, who was on stopwatch duty, the president beckoned to me. “Warmed up, Nukumizu-kun? Then let’s begin. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Right.”

No ankle pain. I felt light on my feet. Way lighter than two weeks ago. But just how much would all that working out really help my time? I approached the start line, looking back at the student council and my plus-one. Tiara-san with her massive camera. Kaju with her tacky fans. God, what a picture we painted.

I took a deep breath. She’d told me to begin when I was ready. I was as ready as I’d ever be. So I got into position, and I went for it. I felt their eyes on me with every step I took, and in what felt like an instant, I was already across the finish line.

I put my hands on my knees and panted. “T-time?”

Sakurai-kun showed me the stopwatch. With a smile. “Fifteen-point-two.”

My heart leapt. That was over a whole second better than my original sixteen-point-five. I almost couldn’t believe it. I had to do a double take.

“Oniisama, that was amazing!” Suddenly, Kaju threw herself at me. “Let me wipe your sweat! Are you thirsty? I can give you a full-body massage when we get home, and then a bath, and then we can go to sleep together, and I can sing you a lullaby and—”

“Kaju? Breathe. In. Out.”

“In… Out.”

We did this several times until she was calm. Then I faced the president. Her arms were crossed, confidently and proudly. “Um, so, why am I faster when we haven’t even done any running?”

“Simple,” she answered. “At the start of this month, you had very little stamina. By the end of the hundred meters, you were practically walking.” That came as a shock. I hadn’t pulled any punches, and it definitely felt like I was killing it out there. “Today, you had a taste of what it’s like to actually sprint the full distance. This newborn fawn has found his legs. From here on, nature wills that you become faster.”

Well, that sounded cool. And reassuring. This slowpoke was officially on the food chain. I was on top of the world.

“Should I do another?”

“No. No more times from now on.” That knocked the wind right out of my sails. She put a hand on my shoulder reassuringly. “The only thing we ought to focus on is making sure you’re in the best possible condition for the big race. Your time is a work in progress. Don’t dwell on it, or you may become complacent.”

“Isn’t it important to get a read on where I’m at, though?”

“To that end, I have an idea.”

President Houkobaru lowered the zipper on her coat. Tiara-san let out a damn near unrecognizable shriek, camera shutter clicking like crazy, as the president tossed the jacket to the wind.

“Are we really doing this?”

Beneath the coat, all along, had been a two-piece track uniform.

“That we are,” she answered. “I’ll be running with you, at a pace equivalent to your target time of fourteen-point-five seconds.” Faint shadows contoured her softly rippling abs. I had to remind myself not to stare. “We can count on Yakishio breaking her own record. If you want to win, you will have to overtake me.”

“Um. Uh.” Skin. So much skin. I retreated a step.

The president closed the distance by two, putting her finger to my chest. “Now. Let’s see if this fawn has legs enough to outrun a cheetah. Your true test begins now.”