"So, what, you have some cooking-related trauma, then?"
I'd been assigned a make-up report for home economics because I'd
skipped cooking class, and for some reason, I got called to the faculty
office after I handed it in. This was giving me some serious déjà vu.
Why must I have your lectures inflicted upon me, Ms. Hiratsuka?
"Aren't you supposed to be teaching Japanese?"
"I'm also responsible for guidance counseling. Mr. Tsurumi foisted
the job off on me." I glanced at a corner of the faculty office to see
the aforementioned Mr. Tsurumi watering a potted plant. Ms.
Hiratsuka regarded the other teacher before turning back to me.
"First, I'll ask why you skipped practice. Make it brief."
"Well, you know… I don't really see the point of practicing cooking
with the whole class."
"I don't see the point of that excuse, Hikigaya. Is group activity that
painful for you? Or did none of the groups let you join?" Ms.
Hiratsuka studied my expression with fairly sincere worry.
"No, no, what are you talking about, Sensei? It's supposed to be
practice cooking, right? In other words, there's no point doing it
unless it closely resembles the real thing. My mother cooks alone,
you know? In other words, cooking alone would be the correct way
to do it! Paradoxically, it's practicing cooking in groups that's
wrong!"
"Those are two completely different things."
"Sensei! Are you telling me that my mommy is wrong?! That's going
too far! There's no point in continuing this conversation! I'm
leaving!" I retorted, turning on my heel and attempting to leave.
"Hey. Don't try to confuse the issue by flying off the handle when
you're clearly in the wrong here."
So she could tell. Ms. Hiratsuka stretched out her arm, tugged the
collar of my uniform from behind, and spun me around by the scruff
of the neck, just like how you'd pick up a kitten. Nghh. Maybe going
Tee-hee! I'm so naughty! and sticking my tongue out would
have been a better strategy to get away with it.
Ms. Hiratsuka sighed, thumping my report with the back of her hand.
"You're fine up to 'How to make good curry.' The problem is the part
after that. 'First slice the onion into wedges. You slice them thinly
and then season them. Just as the shallower a person is, the more
easily they are influenced by their environment—the thinner you
slice the onions, the more the flavor will soak into them.' Who told
you to make it so salty? You're ruining the dish!"
"Sensei, please stop being so smug and acting like you said
something witty. It's embarrassing to watch."
"And I don't want to read this kind of essay. I shouldn't have to say
this, as it should be obvious to you already, but you're doing it over."
The teacher put a cigarette in her lips with an expression of utter
disgust.
"Can you cook?" Ms. Hiratsuka asked me as she flipped through
reports. The look on her face said she expected the answer to be no.
That was unfair. High schoolers these days could all make curry, at
least.
"Yes. Thinking about my future, it's obvious that I should know how."
"So you've reached the age where you're thinking about moving
out?"
"No, that's not what I meant."
"Oh?" Then why? Ms. Hiratsuka asked with her gaze alone.
"Because cooking is a vital skill for a househusband," I replied.
Ms. Hiratsuka's large eyes, bordered moderately with mascara,
blinked twice, three times. "You want to be a stay-at-home
husband?"
"I see it as one of my future options."
"Don't give me that rotten look while you talk about your dreams for
the future. Your eyes should be sparkling, at the very least. Just for
my knowledge, what exactly do your plans for the future entail?"
I had a hunch it would be a bad idea to reply with something like
Actually, you should be worrying about your own future, so I resigned
myself to giving her a reasoned answer. "Well, I'll go on to some
decent university."
Ms. Hiratsuka nodded and made listening noises. "Mm-hmm. What
about your career following that?"
"I'll pick out a beautiful and talented girl and marry her with the
intention of having her support me in the end."
"I said career! Give me a career for an answer!"
"I said househusband."
"That just makes you a leech! And that's an absolutely terrible way
to live. Men like that dangle marriage in front of women like bait,
and then before you know it, they've crawled into your house and
have even made a duplicate key, and soon enough they start
bringing in their things, and once we broke up, that useless good-for-
nothing even went so far as to take my furniture!" Ms. Hiratsuka's
rant contained way too many specifics. She got so into it, she ran out
of breath, tears welling up in her eyes.
Too sad… She looked so pitiful, I just had to say something to make
her feel better.
"Sensei, it's okay! I won't be like that. I'll do housework properly and
be the best leech ever!"
"What kind of super-leech logic is that?!"
My aspirations for the future denied, I was forced to stand at the
crossroads of my life. On the brink of having my dreams crushed
entirely, I scrounged up a good argument with which to arm myself.
"It does sound bad if you call it being a leech, but I don't think being
a stay-at-home husband is such a bad decision."
"Mm-hmm?" Ms. Hiratsuka shifted in her chair, making it creak, and
glared at me. Her posture said, I'm listening. Try me.
"Thanks to the gender equality movement and all that, it's already
taken as a given that women will go on to have careers. You being a
teacher is proof of that, Ms. Hiratsuka."
"Well, that's true." It looked like she had accepted that much. Now I
could take it a step further.
"But now that a large number of women have joined the workforce,
it's only rational that an equal number of men are going to be
crowded out. In any given time and place, there have always been a
limited number of jobs, isn't that right?"
"Hmm…"
"For example, let's say that fifty years ago at a given company, there
were a hundred workers, and they were one hundred percent male.
If they then hire fifty women, obviously fifty of the men that were
originally there have to go elsewhere. This is a simplified analogy, but
you get the idea. Add in the recent recession, and it's becomes quite
apparent that the number of positions available for men has
decreased dramatically."
At that point, Ms. Hiratsuka put her hand to her chin, adopting a
thoughtful posture. "Continue."
"There's also the fact that companies don't need as much personnel
as they did in the past. With the spread of computers and the
development of the Internet, we've become more efficient, and the
productivity of a single individual has grown by leaps and bounds. In
fact, from a societal perspective, you start to get the message that
Yeah, I know you badly want to work, but we can't manage that.
Look at stuff like work sharing."
"True, those concepts do exist."
"Plus, with the remarkable development of consumer electronics,
anyone can do the same work and put out a standard level of quality.
Men can do housework."
"Wait, hold on a second," she said, interrupting my fervent
argument. She cleared her throat quietly and peered at my face. "Th-
those things can be pretty hard to use, though… Men might not
necessarily manage, you know."
"What was that?" Spinning her chair, she kicked my shin. It really
hurt. I carried on with my reasoning, hoping she'd forget that last bit.
"I-in other words! We've desperately endeavored to create a society
where you don't have to work, so it's completely absurd to be saying
things like, 'You have to work!' or 'There's no jobs!'"
A flawless conclusion. Work and you lose; work and you lose.
"Aaagh. You're still rotten to the core." The teacher unburdened
herself of a massive sigh but then smirked as if she'd thought of
something. "If a girl were to cook for you just once, maybe you'd
think differently," she said, standing and shoving me along from
behind, pushing me out of the faculty office.
"H-hey! What are you doing? Ow! That hurts, I said!"
"Go to the Service Club and learn the importance of labor." With a
viselike grip, she tightened her hand on my shoulder before following
up with a strong whap to shove me out of the room.
I turned back to voice a protest of What was that for? or something
of that nature, only to find the door slamming shut cruelly in my
face. That was the aforementioned rejection of any "arguments,
disagreements, objections, questions, or back talk."
I considered for a moment perhaps skipping out of club time, but the
instant the thought crossed my mind, the shoulder she had just been
squeezing throbbed with pain. She'd probably punch me again if I ran
away. I couldn't believe she'd managed to imprint that delayed-
action agony in my body within such a small window of time. What a
terrifying woman.
I decided to show up at the mystery club I'd recently been forced to
join—the Service Club or whatever it was called. That was its name,
but I had no idea what we actually did. I was even more perplexed by
the head of the club. What the hell was her deal?
.
.
.
.
Yukinoshita was reading a book in the clubroom, as usual. We
casually exchanged hellos, and then I carried a chair over to a spot a
little ways away from her and sat down, pulling a few books from my
bag. Now the Service Club had entirely transformed into a Youth
Reading Club.
So what were we actually supposed to do in this club, in the end?
Where'd all that talk about a competition go? The answer to my
questions arrived suddenly in the form of a visitor's faint knock.
Yukinoshita's page-turning hand paused, and she precisely inserted a
bookmark into her paperback. She then turned to the door and
called: "Come in."
"P-pardon me!" squeaked a nervous voice. The door slid aside with a
light scrape, opening barely a few inches. A girl entered, almost
squeezing through sideways. The way she moved, it seemed as
though she didn't want to be seen. Her chestnut-brown hair flowed
down to her shoulders in loose waves, and with every step she took,
they swayed. Her eyes darted about as if she was scouting out the
area, her gaze never stopping to rest, and when her eyes met mine,
she let out a tiny squeal.
Was I some kind of monster?
"Wh-why is Hikki here?"
"Uh, I'm in this club." And wait, does "Hikki" mean me? Who is
this girl, anyway? Quite frankly, I have no recollection of her at all.
I didn't remember her because she was such a stereotypically
modern high school girl. I saw her ilk all the time. Basically, she was
one of those fashionable teenage girls. All of her clothes flagrantly
disregarded the school dress code: the short skirt, the three buttons
open on her blouse, the necklace sparkling on the chest peeking out
of said blouse, the heart charm, and the tawny hair bleached bright.
I didn't associate with girls of that sort. Because I didn't associate
with girls of any sort.
It seemed like she knew me, though, and I didn't feel I could just ask,
Excuse me, who are you? But then I noticed the color of the ribbon
on her chest was red. In our school, each of the three grades were
assigned different ribbons, and that was how you could tell
someone's year. Red meant she was a second-year, like me. The
reason I noticed her ribbon straightaway wasn't because I was
looking at her chest—it just happened to enter my field of vision,
okay? By the way, it was pretty big.
"Well, sit down." I casually pulled out a chair and motioned for her to
sit. I wasn't being all gentlemanly to disguise my impure intentions. I
want to emphasize that it was, naturally, all out of sincere kindness.
Really, I'm a super gentleman. I mean, I dress like one all the time.
"Th-thanks…" She looked a little flustered, but she nevertheless
plopped herself down in the seat I'd offered.
Yukinoshita, who was sitting opposite her, met her gaze. "Yui
Yuigahama, right?"
"Y-you know me?" Hearing her own name, Yui Yuigahama's
expression suddenly turned bright. It seemed she regarded
Yukinoshita's recognition as a mark of status.
"You know her name? Do you know all the students in this school or
what?"
"Not at all. I didn't know you."
"Oh…"
"It's nothing to get upset about. I should have. I only didn't because I
was disinterested in your stunted character. I had a strong,
subconscious desire to avert my eyes from you, but that was my
weakness and my fault."
"Hey, was that supposed to make me feel better? That's a pretty
terrible way to comfort someone. That last part basically makes the
whole thing my fault!"
"I wasn't trying to make you feel better. I was just being sarcastic."
Without even giving me a glance, Yukinoshita flicked back the hair
that had fallen to her shoulders.
"This club seems…kinda fun." Yuigahama observed our interaction
with something of a sparkle in her eyes. Maybe she had a few screws
loose.
"This experience isn't particularly pleasant for me… In fact, that
assumption of yours is incredibly unpleasant." Yukinoshita shot her a
chilly glare.
When the look hit Yuigahama, she became flustered, fidgeting and
shaking her hands wildly in front of her. "Oh! Well, um, like… I just
thought you guys seemed like you were really natural with each
other. You know, um… Hikki's acting totally different from how he
usually does in class, so I was like, Wow, he talks!"
"Of course I talk." Do I come off that lacking in communication
skills?
"Oh, yes, I remember now. You're in Class F as well, Yuigahama?"
"Huh? Is she?"
"You were aware of that, weren't you?" Yukinoshita said, and
Yuigahama twitched in response.
Oh, crap.
I knew better than anyone else what if feels like when someone in
your own class doesn't remember you at all. So, in order to spare her
that pain, I decided to lie.
"O-of course I was!"
"So why'd you look away?" Yuigahama cross-examined me intently.
"Isn't that sort of thing why you don't have any friends in our class?
You act so weird, it's creepy."
Oh, that condescending gaze was so familiar. There was indeed a girl
in my class who sometimes looked at me the way you'd look at
something dirty. She was part of the clique that often hung out with
the soccer club or whoever. Oh, I see. She's my enemy, huh? My
consideration had been wasted on her.
"Slut," I muttered.
Yuigahama snapped back at me. "Huh? What do you mean, slut? I'm
still a vir—Uh… Ah-ha-ha! N-nothing!" Her face flushed bright red as
she flailed her hands in an attempt to erase the word that had
almost escaped her lips. What a dumbass.
Yukinoshita butted in to save Yuigahama from her fit of panic.
"That's not something you need to be embarrassed about. At your
age, being a virg—"
"Hey, hey, hey! What are you talking about?! Not having done it in
your second year is embarrassing! Yukinoshita, what does that say
about my hotness level?!"
"What a superficial system of values." Whoa, I don't know why,
but Yukinoshita's frigidity just turned up a notch.
"Hotness level? Sounds like something a slut would say."
"You said it again! I can't believe I'm being called a slut! You're such
a creep, Hikki!" Yuigahama moaned in frustration as she looked at
me through teary eyes.
"Me calling you a slut has nothing to do with my creepiness. And
don't call me Hikki." She was making me sound like a hikkikomori—
one of those shut-ins who never comes out of his room. Oh, so that was supposed to be an insult. It was probably a derisive nickname
the class had given me. What the hell? That's kind of mean. It almost
made me want to cry. Talking behind people's backs is rude. So say it
straight—right to my face. I can't get hurt if I don't hear it myself.
"You slut."
"You…you really are a pain in the butt! And you're seriously creepy!
Why don't you just die?!"
I'm a pretty mild guy, and I never snap at anyone. I'm like a safety
razor. But that was enough to make even me go quiet. There are a
lot of things out there you just shouldn't say to people. Words
relating life and death, in particular, can be particularly impactful. If
you aren't prepared to take someone's life with your own hands,
then you should never say you will.
So after a brief silence, as a warning to her, I said gravely and with
palpable anger in my tone, "Don't use stuff like Die! or I'll kill you! as
casual insults. I'll kill you if you do that again."
"Oh…s-sorry. That's not what I…huh?! You just said it! You super-said
it!" As I'd noted earlier, Yuigahama is a dumbass. But surprisingly,
she was also capable of making a sincere apology.
I realized my initial impression of her hadn't been entirely accurate.
I'd thought her head was filled with nothing but partying, sex, and
drugs—just like everyone else in her clique, the soccer club crowd,
and the people who hung out with them. What was this, a Ryuu
Murakami novel?
Apparently tired of bouncing around, Yuigahama breathed a short
sigh. "Hey, I heard from Ms. Hiratsuka that this place grants
students' wishes?" she asked, breaking the brief silence.
"Did she?" I'd been under the impression this club was for reading
books and wasting time.
Yukinoshita completely ignored my dubious expression and
responded to Yuigahama's question. "Not quite. The Service Club is
really only for helping people. Whether or not your wishes are
granted depends on you."
"How is that 'not quite'?" Yuigahama asked, perplexed. That was
exactly what I'd wanted to ask, too.
"It's the difference between giving a starving person a fish and
teaching them how to fish. Volunteer efforts are, at their core, about
putting that ideal into practice, and not just about producing results.
Perhaps the best way to describe it is that we encourage self-
reliance."
That sounded like something out of an ethics textbook. So it looked
like we were basically in agreement that the point of the club was
putting self-reliance and cooperation (the same bullcrap held up as virtuous in any school) into practice. I guess the teacher had babbled
on about labor or whatever… So in other words, the club was about
working to help other students.
"Th-that's kind of amazing!" Yuigahama had this look in her eyes like
she'd just had a revelation, like Whoa, you just convinced me! It
made me a little worried that one day she might get suckered in by a
cult.
There's absolutely no scientific basis for this idea, but there is this
common belief that girls with big boobs are a little…you know. I think
this example could be added to the list.
And then there was Yukinoshita with her flat-as-a-board chest, her
clear intellect, and her wisdom. As usual, she was smiling coldly. "I
may not actually grant your wish, but I will help you as best I can."
Apparently reminded of what she'd originally come here for,
Yuigahama piped up. "Oh! Um, um…listen, so…cookies…," she began,
glancing at my face.
I'm not empty carbs. People in class treat me like empty air, and
though those sound similar, they're different.
"Hikigaya." Yukinoshita jerked her chin, gesturing toward the
hallway. It was a sign telling me to get lost. She didn't have to signal
me like that. She could have kindly said, You're an eyesore, so would
you be so kind as to please leave that seat, though it would make me
very happy if you never come back.
If it was something they could only talk about between girls, then
there was nothing I could do about it. Stuff like that was a thing. The
hints were health and physical education, boys not included, and a
class for girls only in a different classroom. In other words, that was
what they were going to talk about.
I do wonder what they talk about during those classes. It still bothers
me.
"…I'm gonna go get a Sportop." I'm too nice, if I do say so myself. I
read the room and casually took action. If I were a girl, I'd fall for me
for sure.
When I got up, Yukinoshita apparently thought of something, so she
called after me as I put my hand on the door. "I'd like a Vegetable
Lifestyle 100 Strawberry Yogurt Mix."
She doesn't even think twice before using me as her errand boy.
Yukinoshita, you're a piece of work.
.
.
.
Making a round trip from the third floor of the special-use building to
the first floor took less than ten minutes. If I took my time strolling
along, maybe the girls would be done with their conversation. No
matter what kind of person she was, she was still our first client. In
other words, the competition the teacher had set for Yukinoshita and
I had begun. Well, I doubted I was going to win, so all I had to worry
about was minimizing the amount of damage the whole affair would
deal me.
In a suspicious-looking vending machine in front of the school store,
there was a mysterious beverage in a juice box that you never really
see at convenience stores. It tasted quite similar to something else,
but it actually wasn't bad, so I kept an eye out for it. Sportop's candy-
like taste in particular flew in the face of current "no-calorie, no-
sugar" trends, and I liked that rebellious spirit. It tasted all right.
The vending machine rumbled like a sky fortress when I inserted a
hundred-yen coin. Once I'd secured some Sportop and a Vegetable
Lifestyle, I deposited another hundred yen. Just buying drinks for two
out of three would have been kind of awkward, so I decided to pick
something up for Yuigahama, too, pressing the button for Men's Café
au Lait. In all, it totaled three hundred yen. I'd just blown about half
my net worth. I was so broke.
.
.
.
The first thing Yukinoshita said when I got back was "You took too
long," snatching the Vegetable Life out of my hands before jamming
in the straw and taking a sip.
That left me with the Sportop and the Men's Café au Lait. Yuigahama
apparently realized whom the latter was for. "Here," she said, pulling
a hundred yen from a change purse that looked like a pocket.
"Oh, it's okay." Yukinoshita hadn't paid, and I'd bought this extra
drink without asking Yuigahama if she wanted one. Even if there was
a reason for Yukinoshita to pay me, Yuigahama was under no such
obligation. So instead of taking her hundred-yen coin, I put the café
au lait in her hands.
"B-but…I can't…" She stubbornly kept trying to hand me the money.
Not wanting to go through that annoying I'll pay! No, it's okay!
routine, I just went over beside Yukinoshita. Yuigahama huffed and
reluctantly put the coin away. "Thanks." She expressed her gratitude
quietly and took the café au lait in both hands with a tee-hee, looking
happy and bashful.
I thought that was probably the greatest show of thanks I'd received
ever. That smile might have been too much in exchange for just a
hundred yen.
Satisfied, I tried to catch Yukinoshita's interest. "Are you two done
talking?"
"Yes, things went quite smoothly thanks to your absence. Thank
you."
And that was the worst show of thanks I'd ever received.
"Well, that's good. So what're we doing?"
"We're going to the home ec room, and you're coming, too."
"Home ec?" That meant…that place. That iron-maiden-like classroom
where you grouped up with friends of your choice and underwent
the agony that was cooking practice. There were knives and gas
stoves and stuff in there! It was dangerous! That stuff should have
been restricted, seriously!
Along with gym class and field trips, home ec stood out as one of my
top three trauma-inducing activities, and who'd subject themselves
to such an environment of their own free will? My intrusion on one
of those settings—with all those cliques and their merry chattering—
produced an unbearable silence.
"Cookies… We're baking cookies."
"What? Cookies?" I didn't remotely get what she was talking about,
so all I could say was What?
"Yuigahama wants to make cookies for someone, but she requested
our help because she lacks confidence in the enterprise," Yukinoshita
explained to dispel my confusion.
"Why do you need us for something like that? Just ask your friends."
"Erk…w-well, um…," Yuigahama stammered, her eyes darting
everywhere. "I don't really want people to know, and if my friends
found out, they'd make fun of me… This sort of…serious stuff isn't
really like them."
I let out a small sigh.
Frankly speaking, there was nothing I cared less about than peoples'
love lives. My time was far better served remembering one word of
English vocabulary than remembering who liked who. To say nothing
of helping her. That was out of the question. So yeah, those were my
feelings on the matter, so you can tell how scant my interest is in the
language of love.
When they said they wanted to talk alone, I figured it was something
really serious. And this was it? Well, I guess it was a relief. Frankly,
when someone asks for romantic advice, all you have to say is Go for
it! You can do it! or whatever. And if things don't go well, you just
have to be like, That guy is such a jerk, huh? "Hmph." A derisive snort
slipped out of my nose.
Yuigahama met my gaze. "U-uh…" At a loss for words, she looked
down, clutching the hem of her skirt. Her shoulders shook a bit.
"Ah…aha-ha! It's weird, huh? Someone like me going on about
handmade cookies… It's like, why am I acting like such a kid, huh?
Sorry, Yukinoshita. Never mind."
"If you say so. I'm not deeply concerned one way or the other, but…
Oh, don't feel like you have to pay this boy any mind. He has no
human rights. He's compelled to be here."
Apparently, the Japanese constitution doesn't apply to me. What
kind of shady outfit is this?
"No… It's fine, it's fine! It's not really like me. It's weird…and I heard
from Yumiko and Hina and stuff that it's not in right now, anyway,"
Yuigahama said, glancing my way again. She looked wilted and
despondent.
Yukinoshita opened her mouth to kick her while she was down.
"…Indeed. It really isn't the kind of thing you'd expect from someone
with a party-girl aesthetic like yours."
"Y-yeah…it'd be weird, huh…?" Yuigahama laughed as if trying to
gauge our opinions of her. Her mostly downcast eyes caught mine.
Based on her behavior, I got the impression that she wanted some
kind of reply.
"…No, I'm not trying to say that it's weird, or unlike you, or that it
doesn't suit you, or not something you would do. I honestly just
don't care."
"That's even meaner!" Yuigahama smacked the table indignantly.
"You're unbelievable, Hikki! Augh, you're pissing me off. I'm the type
of girl who can do whatever I put my mind to, y'know!"
"That's not the kind of thing you should be saying about yourself. It's
more like something my mom would say to me, her eyes all sincere
and tearful: I thought you were the kind of boy who could do things
when he put his mind to it…"
"Your mom has already given up on you!"
"That's a reasonable assessment."
Yuigahama's eyes welled up, and Yukinoshita said something or
other while nodding vigorously.
Leave me alone.
It's true, though; having someone give up on you is a sad thing. And
Yuigahama was really into this plan, so I felt bad about raining on her
parade. And we did have that competition going on… Reluctantly, I
voiced my cooperation. "Well, I can really only make curry, but I'll
help."
"Th-thanks." Yuigahama looked relieved.
"I'm not really expecting you to cook anything. You just have to taste
it and tell us what you think."
If I was only there to give my opinion as a guy, as Yukinoshita
described, I should have been capable of that, at least. Lots of guys
don't like sweet stuff, so I could help her learn to cook for a
masculine palate. Plus, I was no picky eater, so most things tasted
good to me.
Wait, is that even useful?
.
.
.
The home ec room was filled with the sweet scent of vanilla extract.
Yukinoshita, as comfortable as if it were her own home, opened the
refrigerator and took out some eggs, milk, and other items. She
secured a scale and bowls and such, as well, and started preparing
and rattling around with a ladle and some other mysterious cooking
implements I didn't recognize.
Apparently, this flawless superwoman was also an expert cook.
She quickly finished laying out everything she would need and then
put on an apron as if to say, Now it's time for the real deal.
Yuigahama put one on as well, but she didn't seem used to it, as the
way she tied her string was a mess.
"That's crooked. Can't you even put on an apron right?"
"Sorry, thanks… Huh?! I can put on an apron, at least!"
"Oh? Then put it on right. If you don't even try to do it properly,
you'll end up past the point of no return, just like him."
"Don't use me as your cautionary tale. What am I, a hairy namahage
demon looking for naughty children?"
"You should be glad. This is the first time you've ever been useful to
someone. Oh, though I may be treating you like monster, I wasn't
trying to imply anything about your scalp. Don't worry."
"I wasn't worried. And stop looking at my hair with that patronizing
smile on your face." I swiftly hid my hairline behind my hand in an
attempt to shield it from Yukinoshita's rare smile. I heard a voice
giggling at me. Yuigahama, still in her sloppily tied apron, watched us
from the side.
"You still don't have it on? Or is it that you can't put it on after all?
…Ahhh, I'll tie it for you, so come over here." Exasperated,
Yukinoshita beckoned the other girl over with a flick of her hand.
"You don't…mind?" Yuigahama mumbled with the slightest bit of
hesitation. She looked like an anxious child who didn't know where
she was supposed to go.
"Come on." The icy sound of Yukinoshita's voice broke her
indecision. Yukinoshita seemed kind of angry, and it was a little
scary.
"S-s-s-sorry!" Yuigahama zipped right over to Yukinoshita. What are
you, a puppy?
The vexed girl moved behind the source of her annoyance and firmly
retied her apron.
"Yukinoshita…you're kind of like a big sister."
"There's no way my little sister could be this incompetent."
Yukinoshita sighed, looking disappointed, but I felt as if Yuigahama's
comparison was surprisingly not far from the mark. Yukinoshita, with
her air of maturity, and Yuigahama, with her baby face—together,
the two rather resembled a pair of sisters.
They really gave off a warm household vibe.
Also, only old men are into that whole girl-wearing-nothing-but-an-
apron thing. Me, I thought the school-uniform-plus-apron-combo
was the ultimate.
I felt my heart growing warm and let slip a leer.
"H-hey, Hikki…"
"Wh-what is it?" Whoops. That might have been a creepy smile. My
voice went shrill, too, kicking the creepiness factor up a notch. I'd set
off a chain reaction of creep factor
"Wh-what do you think of domestic girls?"
"I think they're okay. I think all guys are attracted to them to a
degree."
"O-oh…" Hearing that seemed to put her at ease, and she smiled.
"Okay, let's do this!" Rolling up the sleeves of her blouse, she
cracked open an egg and beat it. She added other ingredients like
flour and then sugar, butter, and vanilla extract.
Yuigahama's skills were so far from the norm that even someone like
me who didn't really know a lot about cooking could tell. Maybe this
is much ado about cookies, but I believed that precisely because
they're so simple to make, they clearly display the baker's skill level.
You could see a person's real ability, the kind you couldn't fake.
First of all, the beaten egg: There was shell in it.
Next, the flour: It was all clumped up.
And the butter: It was still hard.
She exchanged sugar for salt like it was the obvious thing to do and
poured in a ton of vanilla extract. The milk sloshed around
dangerously inside the bowl.
When I happened to glance over at Yukinoshita, she was holding her
forehead and looking green. Even I, with my poor cooking skills, felt a
chill run down my spine. Yukinoshita, with her talents, must have
been shuddering in horror.
"Well, then…," Yuigahama said, taking out some instant coffee.
"Coffee, huh? Well, food goes down easier when you have
something on hand to drink. That's thoughtful of you."
"What? That's not what this is for. This is for subtle seasoning. Don't
lots of guys hate sweet stuff?" Yuigahama cocked her head over her
shoulder at me as she worked. I took my eyes off her hands for a moment to consider her face, and by the time I looked back there
was a black mountain inside her bowl.
"That doesn't look subtle at all!"
"Huh? Oh. Then I'll adjust it by adding more sugar," she said,
constructing a white mountain next to the black. A giant tsunami of
beaten egg engulfed them both, creating a true hell.
Let me get right to the point: Yuigahama lacked cooking skills. It
wasn't a question of those skills being poor or underdeveloped. She
had absolutely none to begin with.
Not only was she clumsy, but she was imprecise, dangerously
creative, and altogether unsuited for cooking. I'd never want to do
chemistry experiments with this girl. She was the type who'd kill you
with a mistake.
By the time those things came out of the oven, for some reason, they
looked like coal-black pancakes. Judging by the smell, they were
bitter.
"Wh-why?" An expression of shock on her face, Yuigahama gazed at
the mystery substance.
"I can't comprehend it… How can you make so many errors all at
once?" Yukinoshita mumbled. Her voice was quiet, so Yuigahama
probably couldn't hear. But even so, it sounded like something that
she couldn't hold in—words that had just popped out.
Yuigahama put the mystery substance on a plate. "It looks a bit odd,
but…you don't know until you taste it, right?!"
"That's true. And we have a taste tester right here."
"Aha-ha-ha! Oh, Yukinoshita. It's so rare that you err in your choice
of vocabulary. The term you're searching for is food taster—
someone who tests for poison."
"What poison?! Oh…poison… Hmm, I guess it is poison after all?" For
someone who'd initially taken such vigorous offense, Yuigahama
suddenly seemed quite unsure, tilting her head to the side and giving
me a look that said, So what do you think?
That didn't even warrant a reply, did it? I shook off Yuigahama's
puppy-dog eyes and tried to get Yukinoshita's attention.
"Hey, am I seriously supposed to eat this? This is like the charcoal
they sell at a hardware store."
"She didn't use any inedible ingredients, so you'll be fine. Probably.
Plus…" Yukinoshita paused and moved to whisper in my ear. "I'll eat
some, too, so it's okay."
"For real? Are you maybe actually a good person? Or do you like
me?"
"Actually, you can eat them all and die after all."
"Sorry. I was so shocked, I got a bit kooky."
Because they were cookies, get it? I wasn't sure you could honestly
say the things before us counted as cookies, though.
"Your job was supposed to be taste testing, not refuse disposal. Plus,
I'm the one who took on her request. I'll take responsibility for that,"
Yukinoshita said, pulling the plate over to her side.
"I can't properly dispose of them without grasping exactly what the
problem is. And there's no way to avoid exposing myself to danger in
order to find out."
Yukinoshita picked up one of the blackened objects. Had I been told
those things were actually iron ore, I might have believed it. She
looked at me, her eyes tearing up a bit.
"Will this kill me?"
"That's what I'd like to know," I said, glancing at Yuigahama who was
regarding us like she wanted to be one of the gang. Go ahead. You
have one, too. Know our pain.
I somehow managed to grind away at Yuigahama's cookies.
I didn't throw up and keel over the minute I ate one, like they do in
manga. I just tasted a bitter awfulness so intense that I felt like losing
consciousness would have been a mercy. If only I could have passed
out, I wouldn't have had to eat any more. The level of workmanship
in those cookies made me wonder what the heck she'd put in
them—mackerel guts? That was about where they ranked on the
scale, but at least eating them didn't mean instant death. But still, I
wouldn't have been surprised to learn that ingesting this substance
had increased my risk of cancer over the long term and that I'd start
seeing symptoms in a few years.
"Ugh! These are so bitter! And gross!" Yuigahama wailed tearfully as
she crunched away.
Yukinoshita immediately passed her a teacup. "It's better if you avoid
chewing as much as possible by swallowing quickly. Take care not to
let it touch your tongue. It's much like drinking a nasty medicine."
She really didn't hesitate to say the meanest stuff.
The kettle came to a rolling boil, and Yukinoshita poured out some
black tea for us. Having all consumed our assigned quota, we washed
it down with tea. Finally able to relax, I sighed.
Yukinoshita opened her mouth to snap us out of our momentary
reprieve. "Okay, now let us reflect on how we might improve them."
"Yuigahama never cooking again."
"You're telling me they're that bad?!"
"Hikigaya, that's our final solution."
"That's a solution?!" Yuigahama went from shock to dejection. Her
shoulders drooped, and she sighed deeply. "I guess I'm just not cut
out for cooking after all… I've got no…talent, or whatever you call it."
Yukinoshita heaved a deep sigh in return. "I see. I've come up with
an answer."
"What do I do?" Yuigahama asked, and Yukinoshita replied calmly:
"You just need to put in the effort."
"That's your answer?"
In my humble opinion, effort is the worst solution.
Saying that you just have to try hard and that no other factors matter
was just another way of saying There's nothing else you can do now.
Quite frankly, it was no different than proceeding without a plan at
all. It would have been much better just to say, You've got no chance,
so give up. There's nothing more pointless than wasted effort. It's
better to give someone the boot so they can devote their time and
toil to something else.
"Effort is a great solution if it's done right," Yukinoshita declared as if
she'd just read my mind. Ar
Yuigahama was overpowered into silence. Her face was downcast, so
I couldn't quite tell, but her hands clenching the hem of her skirt
were enough to show her feelings.
I was sure she possessed strong communication skills. Strong enough
to be a member of the A-list after all, which took more than just
looks—she'd have needed to know how to play nice with others. But
seen from another angle, it really only meant that she was good at
integrating herself. In other words, she lacked the courage to risk
loneliness in order to be herself.
On the other hand, there was Yukinoshita, a veritable my-way-or-
the-highway personality. Her brash character was the real deal. She
acted as if she was actually proud of being alone. They were two
completely different types of girls. On the power scale, Yukinoshita
was clearly the stronger. She was right after all.
Yuigahama's eyes watered up. "You're so…" So mean, I assumed she
was going to say. Her voice was feeble, as if she was about to burst
into tears. Her shoulders trembled uncontrollably, and her voice
trembled unreliably with them: "…so cool…"
""What?!"" Yukinoshita and I said in unison. What the hell was she
talking about? The two of us exchanged glances.
"You're always so real… It's, like…really cool." Yuigahama gazed at
Yukinoshita, admiration etched on her face.
Yukinoshita, on the other hand, stiffened up and retreated a couple
steps. "Wh-what on earth is this girl talking about? Were you
listening to me? I believe I was being very harsh."
"No, not at all! Oh, well, it's true what you said was mean, and
honestly, hearing it did kind of make me flinch, but…" Yeah, that
sounded about right. I honestly didn't think Yukinoshita would go
that far berating a girl. I hadn't just flinched; I'd been cringing halfway out the door. But apparently for Yuigahama, that diatribe
had only been flinch-worthy.
"But it felt like you were being honest. And when you talk to Hikki,
you only ever say terrible things to each other, but…you're actually
talking. I only ever go along with what everyone else is doing, so this
is the first time I've ever seen something like that…" Yuigahama
didn't run away. "Sorry. I'll do it right next time," she apologized,
looking right back at Yukinoshita.
This time Yukinoshita was the one left speechless, silenced by
Yuigahama's unexpected gaze. This was probably a first for her.
Surprisingly few people will apologize after being rationally and
logically informed that they are wrong. Most people would just turn
bright red and snap.
Yukinoshita looked off to the side and combed her hair back with a
hand. She had an air that said she was looking for the right words but
couldn't find them. Man, she sucked at ad-libbing.
"Teach her how to do it right. And you listen to what she says,
Yuigahama," I said, breaking the silence between them, and
Yukinoshita exhaled a short sigh and nodded.
"I'll show you how to do it first, so try doing it exactly as I do." Rolling
up the sleeves of her blouse, she cracked an egg and beat it. She
sifted out a precisely measured amount of flour and mixed it
thoroughly so as not to let it clump up. Then she added in the other
ingredients: sugar, butter, and vanilla extract.
Her skills were simply incomparable to those demonstrated by
Yuigahama a moment earlier. The batter was done in a flash, and
Yukinoshita started cutting out the shapes of hearts, stars, and
circles with cookie cutters. There was already a sheet of wax paper
on the cookie tray. She carefully laid the dough onto it and slid the
tray into the preheated oven.
After a short wait, an indescribably sweet aroma began wafting out.
If the prep work is perfect, the results should be, too. And sure
enough, the freshly baked cookies were a beauty to behold.
Transferring them to a plate, Yukinoshita swiftly presented them to
us. The cookies, baked to a pretty golden brown, were each no doubt
worthy of being called cookies. They were very well made, just like
Aunt Stella brand cookies. I took one gratefully.
Depositing it in my mouth, I couldn't help but break into a broad
smile. "These are so good! What color is your patisserie?!" My
honest opinion slipped out.
My hands wouldn't stop. I put another in my mouth. Delicious, of
course. I'd probably never get another chance to eat a girl's
handmade cookies, so I took advantage of the opportunity to toss
yet another one down the hatch. Those things Yuigahama had made
hadn't been cookies, so they didn't count. "These are so good…
You're amazing, Yukinoshita."
"Thank you." Yukinoshita smiled without a trace of irony. "But you
know, all I did was stay true to the recipe, so I'm sure you can make
them just like mine, Yuigahama. If you can't, I think there's got to be
something wrong with you."
"Why can't she just give that guy these?"
"There wouldn't be any meaning in that. Come on, Yuigahama. Let's
give this a shot."
"O-okay. Do you really think I can pull it off? Can I really make
cookies like you do, Yukinoshita?"
"You can, if you stick to the recipe." Yukinoshita did not neglect to
add that warning.
And so began Yuigahama's revenge.
Yuigahama went through the very same process and the very same
steps that Yukinoshita had with her dough-over… Get it, dough-over,
because they're cookies? That was some sweet wordplay. The
cookies would likely be sugary when they were done, too… Get it?
Because I made a sweet pun?
But…
"Yuigahama, not like that. When you sift the flour, draw a circle with
your hands. A circle. Do you understand? Didn't you learn that
properly in elementary school?
"When you mix it, hold the bowl firmly. The entire bowl is spinning,
so it's not mixing at all. Don't spin it around. Move it like you're
cutting through the batter.
"No, not that! Forget the 'subtle flavoring.' Put in the canned
peaches and such another time. And if you add that much water, it
will kill the batter. It'll be liquidated!"
Yukinoshita, the Yukino Yukinoshita, was stumped. She was
exhausted. When they somehow got the dough in the oven, her
shoulders sagged in a heavy grief. There was no sign of her usual
attitude, and sweat beaded on her forehead.
When they opened the oven, a fine smell that much resembled the
one that had come before wafted out. But…
"It's not quite the same…" Yuigahama's shoulders drooped in
dejection.
Upon tasting, they were indeed clearly different from the ones
Yukinoshita had just baked. But they were good enough to be called
cookies. They were a lot better than the briquette-like objects she'd
produced before. I would've been quite willing to eat them like
normal cookies.
But it seemed as though neither Yuigahama nor Yukinoshita was
satisfied.
"How can I teach you in a way you'll absorb?" Groaning to herself,
Yukinoshita tilted her head.
Watching them, I suddenly realized what this meant. Yukinoshita was
a bad teacher.
Put simply, Yukinoshita had talent, but because of her talent, she
didn't have the slightest understanding of how the talentless felt.
She couldn't comprehend their failures.
Saying Just follow the recipe was like telling a math student You just
have to use the formula. Someone bad at math doesn't even get
what the formula is for in the first place. They can't grasp how the
formula will help them reach the answer. Yukinoshita couldn't
understand why Yuigahama didn't understand. Putting it that way
makes it sound as if Yukinoshita was at fault, but that wasn't the
case. Yukinoshita had done everything possible. The problem was the
other girl.
"Why won't it go right? I did it just like you told me!" An expression
of sincere bafflement on her face, Yuigahama reached out to take a
cookie.
To say that really smart people always make good teachers or that
they can reliably explain things in a way that any idiot could
understand is a lie. No matter how you instruct a disappointment of
a human being, they're still a disappointment, so they won't get it.
No matter how many times you do it over, you can't shore up that
deficit.
"Hmm… They really are different from the ones Yukinoshita made."
Yuigahama slumped, and Yukinoshita held her head in her hands.
I took a bite of another cookie as I watched them. "Look, I've been
wondering this the whole time, but…why are you trying to make
such good cookies?"
"What?" Yuigahama gave me a look that said, What're you talking
about, you virgin? It was so disdainful, it kind of ticked me off.
"You don't even get it, even though you're a slut. How dumb are
you?"
"I said don't call me a slut!"
"You don't get guys at all."
"Th-there's nothing I can do about that! I've never dated one! I-I
mean I have a lot of friends who are dating…b-but copying them is
what got me into this, so…" Yuigahama's voice got quieter and
quieter to the point where I couldn't hear her at all. Speak clearly.
Clearly! She was acting just like me when I get called on in class!
"I don't really care about Yuigahama's intimate liaisons, but what
ultimately is your point, Hikigaya?"
Come on, 'intimate liaisons'? I don't even see that phrase on the
hanging ads on trains lately. How old are you?
After an appropriate pause for effect, I smiled triumphantly. "Phew,
it looks like you two have never eaten actual handmade cookies.
Come back in ten minutes, please. I'll feed you the real thing."
"What did you say? Fine! I'm looking forward to it," Yuigahama said,
and apparently angry at having her cookies disparaged, she dragged
Yukinoshita out into the hallway and disappeared.
Now, then. It was my turn in this game. In other words, this was the
ultimate battle to decide the supreme, most extreme solution to her
problem.
.
.
.
A few minutes later, the home ec room was enveloped in an aura of
suspense.
"These are real homemade cookies? They're lopsided and uneven
sizes. Plus, some of them are burned. These are…" Yukinoshita gazed
at the objects on the table dubiously.
Yuigahama peeked at us from off to the side.
"Bwa-ha! You talked big, but these are nothing! What a laugh!
They're not even worth eating!" Yuigahama burst into derisive
laughter. She was actually cackling her head off. I'll remember this,
you jerk.
"C-come on, don't say that. Just give them a try, please." I held back
the twitches tugging at the corners of my mouth and didn't let my
unperturbed smile falter. I would let my smile show them that I'd set
everything up perfectly, was ready to turn the tables, and positive I
would win.
"If you say so…" Yuigahama tentatively put a cookie in her mouth.
Yukinoshita plucked one from the plate without a word.
Pleasant crunching sounds rang out, followed by a moment of
silence.
"Oh! W-wow." Yuigahama's eyes opened wide. The flavor had
arrived at her brain, and she struggled to find the appropriate words
to describe it. "It's not like they're anything special, though, and it's
also kinda gritty. Frankly, they're not that good!" She veered wildly
from shock over to anger. The violent swing from one pole to the
next made her grimace in my direction.
Yukinoshita said nothing, but she looked at me suspiciously.
Apparently, she'd noticed.
I tolerated both glares for a moment before gently dropping my
gaze. "Oh… They're no good, huh? I tried my best, though…"
"Oh… Sorry." When I cast my eyes down, Yuigahama awkwardly
lowered her eyes to the floor as well.
"Sorry. I'll throw them out," I said, snatching the plate away and
turning from them.
"W-wait a second!"
"What?"
Yuigahama took my hand, stopping me. Instead of replying, she
picked up one of the lopsided cookies and tossed it into her mouth.
She made a crunching sound, chewing up the gritty thing. "Th-
they're not so awful you'd have to throw them out… I couldn't call
them bad."
"Oh… So you're satisfied with them?" I smiled at her, and Yuigahama
nodded wordlessly before immediately spinning around to look
away. The setting sun was flowing in through the windows, making
her face look red.
"Well, they're the cookies you just made."
"What?"
I smoothly and casually let her in on the truth. I'd never said I was
the one who'd made them, so I'd never lied.
"…Ehh?" Yuigahama repeated stupidly. Her eyes had turned to dots,
and her mouth hung entirely, exaggerating the effect of her
foolishness.
"Huh? Huh?" Blinking and wide-eyed, she turned from me to
Yukinoshita and back again. She didn't even remotely grasp what had
just happened.
"Hikigaya, I don't quite understand. What was the point of this
farce?" Yukinoshita sized me up, clearly displeased.
"There's a certain saying… 'If you have love…love is okay!'" I gave her
a thumbs-up with a big grin on my face.
"That's so old!" Yuigahama reacted quietly. Well, that show did air
back when I was in elementary school. Yukinoshita didn't appear to
have gotten it, and she tilted her head to the side with a look like
Question mark?
"You set the bar too high." A smile slipped onto my face. Ooh, what
was this? This feeling of superiority? This feeling like I was the only
one with the correct answer? It was too much. I couldn't help but
blab on about it. I chuckled. "The goal of hurdling is not to jump over
the hurdles. It's to reach the finish line with the best time. There's no
rule saying you have to jump to get there. It do—"
"I get what you're trying to say. That's enough."
—esn't matter if you knock over the hurdles or send them flying or
try to crawl under them. Was what I was going to say when
Yukinoshita interrupted me.
"You're saying we've mistaken the means for the goal." She didn't
seem quite convinced. But that was just what I'd been about to say,
so I had no choice but to nod and then continue.
"She went to all that trouble to make some handmade cookies. If you
don't play up the handmade part, then there's no point. A guy isn't
going to be happy if you hand him something exactly the same as
store-bought. It's actually better if they taste a little bad," I said, but
Yukinoshita still didn't look convinced.
"It's better if they're bad?" she asked.
"Yeah, that's right. If you emphasize that, while you couldn't do it
perfectly, you tried your best! then he'll get the tragically false
impression that oh, she tried so hard for me!"
"It can't be that simple…" Yuigahama looked at me, doubtful, as if to
say, What are you talking about, you virgin?
I sighed. I had no choice. I'd have to tell her a story to persuade her.
"This story is about a friend of a friend of mine, from back when he'd
just started eighth grade. It was the beginning of a new year, so they
had to pick a class representative in homeroom. But, this being
eighth grade, none of the boys wanted to be class rep. So of course,
they had to draw straws. And this guy was born with no luck at all, so
of course, he was picked to be class rep. So the teacher gave him his
assignments, and then they had to decide on the female class rep. He
was a shy, bashful, and timid guy, so it was really hard on him."
"All those words mean the same thing. And you're taking way too
long to get to the point."
"Shut up and listen. And that's when a girl volunteered as a
candidate. She was cute. And thus, auspiciously, the boy and girl
class reps were decided. The girl said shyly, 'I'm looking forward to
working with you this year.'
"After that, she would come and talk to him from time to time. He
started to go, 'Huh? Does she like me? Now that I think about it, she
volunteered after I was chosen as the boys' rep. She comes to talk to
me a lot, so she must like me!' It didn't take him long to come to that
conclusion. About a week."
"That's fast!" Yuigahama, who had been nodding and hmming,
voiced her surprise.
"You moron. Time and age gaps or whatever, none of that has
anything to do with love. So anyway, after school one day, when they
were handing out papers like the teacher told them to, he resolved
to confess his feelings for her:
"'U-um, hey… Do you have a crush on anyone?'
"'Huh? No!'
"'Come on, if you're saying it like that, I know you do! Who is it?'
"'Who do you think?'
"'I don't know! Come on! Give me a hint!'
"'I don't know if I can…'
"'Oh, then his initials! Tell me his initials! Or just the first letter of his
last name or first name is fine, c'mon!'
"'Hmm, well then, I guess I can do that.'
"'For real?! Yes! So what's the letter?'
"'H.'
"'Huh? Is that…me?'
"'Huh? What're you talking about? Of course not. What? Huh? That's
so gross. Just stop.'
"'Ah-ha-ha. Of course… I was just kidding.'
"'Who in their right mind would… We're done here, so I'm going.'
"'O-okay…' And as I was left alone in the classroom, I watched the
setting sun, tears rolling down my face. What's more, when I went to
school the next day, everyone knew about what had happened."
"So it was about you, Hikki…," Yuigahama mumbled awkwardly,
averting her eyes.
"Hey! Don't be dumb. No one said it was about me! The first person
was just, y'know, a mode of storytelling."
Ignoring my explanation, Yukinoshita let out an annoyed sigh. "It was
suspicious from the moment you said 'a friend of a friend.' You don't
have any friends."
"What?! You bastard!"
"Your trauma is irrelevant. What was your point?"
It wasn't irrelevant. That incident had made the girls hate me even
more and had prompted the boys to start teasing me left and right,
giving me the nickname 'Egogaya,' and, well, I guess it was irrelevant.
I pulled myself together and went on.
"In other words, you know…guys are depressingly simple. We'll get
the wrong idea if you do so much as talk to us, and just getting
handmade cookies is enough to make us happy. So…"
I paused and looked intently at Yuigahama. "Cookies that are nothing
special, sometimes gritty and not that good, are still good enough."
"Ngh…! Shut up!"
Her face tinged red in anger, she threw everything she had at hand at
me—plastic bags, wax paper, and so on. How kind, to choose things
that wouldn't hurt if they struck home. Huh? Does that mean she
likes me? Ha-ha, just kidding. I'm not going through that again.
"You really piss me off, Hikki! I'm leaving!" Yuigahama glowered at
me, grabbing her bag and standing. She turned her head away with a
hmph and began walking toward the door. Her shoulders were
shaking.
Oh, crap, maybe I'd gone to far. I really wasn't keen on the prospect
of nasty talk about me flying around the class again. I'd have to
amend that statement. "Look, it's like…if you can get across the fact
that you tried, you'll sway him."
Yuigahama turned around at the door. The light was coming from
behind her, and I couldn't see her face. "Would it sway you, Hikki?"
"Huh? Oh, I'm already swaying like crazy. I'm so bad, you just have to
be nice to me to make me fall for you. And hey, don't call me Hikki!"
"H-hmph," Yuigahama replied indifferently to my flippant remark
before immediately looking away again. She put her hand on the
door and moved to leave.
Yukinoshita spoke to her back. "Yuigahama, what are you going to do
about your request?"
"I don't care about that anymore. I'm gonna try doing it my own way
next time. Thanks, Yukinoshita." Yuigahama turned around, smiling.
"See you tomorrow. Bye." She waved and left for real this time, her
apron still on.
"Is that really a good idea?" Yukinoshita mumbled, still looking at the
door. "I think that if you have room to improve, you should push
yourself to the limit. That would be better for her, in the end."
"Well, that's true. You'll never betray yourself if you put in effort, but
you may end up betraying your dreams."
"How are those two things different?"
The wind stroked Yukinoshita's cheeks as she turned around, her two
braids swaying.
"Even if you do make an effort, your dreams won't necessarily come
true. It's actually more likely that they won't. But the fact that you
tried alone is comforting."
"That's just something you tell yourself to feel better."
"Even so, you aren't betraying yourself."
"You're so naïve… It's disgusting."
"Both you and the rest of society are hard on me. I at least have to
be kind to myself. Everyone should pamper themselves more. If
everyone's a failure, then no one's a failure."
"This is the first time I've ever seen someone argue pessimism as an
ideal. If your ideas were to become popular, the world would fall to ruin." Yukinoshita looked disgusted, but I was quite fond of my
ideology. One day I'd like to found Neetoria, a government of the
NEETs, by the NEETs, for the NEETs… I guess it would probably crash
and burn within three days after all.
.
.
.
I finally understood what this Service Club or whatever did.
In short, it was apparently for advising students and helping them
solve their problems. But its existence wasn't particularly advertised.
I mean, I hadn't known about it. And it wasn't just because I was
disconnected from the campus hive-mind. Yuigahama hadn't been
aware of it, either, so that meant that we needed someone to
connect us to the students, and that someone was Ms. Hiratsuka.
Students went to her with their problems from time to time, and
she'd send them on to us.
So in other words, the club was an isolation ward.
In that sanatorium, I was, as usual, reading a book.
Receiving counseling on your worries was basically just exposing your
insecurities. High school students are sensitive, so telling them to
talk to other students from the same school about their problems
was probably just too much to ask. Yuigahama had come because
Ms. Hiratsuka had introduced her to us. Without the teacher's
involvement, nobody would ever visit.
There were no guests today, either. The shop was open for business,
but none was forthcoming. Both Yukinoshita and I were comfortable
with silence, so it was very quiet while we focused on our reading,
which was why the hard rap on the door rang out so loudly.
"Yahallo!" She pulled open the sliding door with her insipid,
concentration-killing greeting. It was Yui Yuigahama. I averted my
eyes from the legs protruding from her short skirt and switched
instead to gape at the widely open blouse on her chest. Slutty as
usual.
Seeing her, Yukinoshita let out a grand sigh. "…What is it?"
"Huh? What? That's not much of a welcome… Yukinoshita, do
you…hate me?"
Yuigahama's voice was subdued, but Yukinoshita heard her
nonetheless. When the girl's shoulders began trembling, Yukinoshita
gestured as if deep in thought before annoucing in her usual
monotone, "I don't hate you. I just…find you difficult, maybe."
"That means exactly the same thing in girl speak!" Yuigahama flailed.
It seemed she really didn't want to be hated. She looked like a
prostitute, but her reactions were very much akin to those of a
normal girl.
"So? Why are you here?"
"Well, I'm super into cooking right now, aren't I?"
"You are? This is news to me."
"So this is, like…thanks for the other day? I made some cookies, so I
was wondering if you wanted some."
Yukinoshita went pale as a sheet. If someone brought up
Yuigahama's cooking, the first thing that came to mind was those
charred, iron-like cookies. Just remembering them, both my throat
and heart dried up.
"I don't really have much of an appetite, so it's okay. I appreciate the
sentiment." Most likely she'd only just lost her appetite following the
mention of Yuigahama's cookies. Not calling attention to that part
was probably her way of being kind.
Indifferent to Yukinoshita's firm refusal, Yuigahama hummed as she
plucked a cellophane-clad package out of her bag. The cutely
wrapped thing was, indeed, pitch-black. "Man, trying it was so fun,
you know! I'm thinking I'll try making a bento lunch or something
later! Oh, so, Yukinon, let's have lunch together!"
"No, I like eating alone, so that would be a little much. And 'Yukinon'
is creepy, so stop it."
"No way! Aren't you lonely? Where do you eat, Yukinon?"
"In the clubroom…and were you listening to what I just said?"
"Oh, so, like, I'm free after school, so I'll help you with your club
stuff. Oh, geez, this is, like…a thanks? This is my thanks, so don't
worry about it at all!"
"Are you listening?" Yukinoshita, clearly stunned by Yuigahama's
surging, all-out attack, glanced in my direction. It seemed as though
she wanted me to do something about Yuigahama.
There's no way I'm helping you.
You're always spitting venom at me, you didn't pay me back for
the Veggie Lifestyle…and she's your friend.
Seriously, though, I thought Yuigahama was coming to thank her like
this because Yukinoshita had sincerely tried to help her with her
problem. Yukinoshita was both entitled and obligated to accept that
thanks. It would have been wrong for me to get in the way of that.
I shut my paperback and quietly stood. Offering a parting, inaudible
"Bye" in my wake, I attempted to leave the clubroom.
"Oh, Hikki!" I heard my name, and when I turned, a black object was
flying at my face. Reflexively, I grabbed it.
"Consider that my thanks, I guess? 'Cuz you helped me, too, Hikki."
I examined the package of black, heart-shaped somethings. They
smelled ominous and looked vaguely sinister, but if this was her
thanks, I'd accept them with gratitude.
But don't call me hikki