They were broken up into five-person teams according to their
number in the attendance register. They were in the middle of basketball
class, during which the girls and boys took turns playing on the small gym's
court.
PE was in the afternoon when everyone was full from lunch. The
tracksuit-wearing high school students were all lazy and their movements
sluggish.
"The girls are lagging like crazy."
"I feel like I'm lagging, even though I'm a guy… Oh, her panty
lines…"
"Who? Where?"
The sound of the bouncing balls and the squeak of the slipping shoes
somehow seemed dull and sloppy as they echoed through the gym.
Clumped in a corner, the boys were sprawled out exactly like docile
cows. They were leaning against the wall or on their sides like old men on
vacation who knew they had no fear of being scolded. With content, halfopen eyes, they companionably watched the butts of the tracksuit-wearing
girls together.
In one corner of that group, the one with the odd pair of eyes that
gave off a dull glint said, "The hem on Taiga's tracksuit is frayed, isn't it…"
He was a hit man targeting the life of an enemy yakuza member by
hiding among cows at pasture in full-body cow-patterned spandex—or not.
He was just Takasu Ryuuji, and he was just as listless as everyone else.
His eyes, which were sharp completely independent of his own
volition, had originally been targeting a different kind of prey at the start of
the match. His target was the one in the group of ten girls whose
movements were exceptionally animated and whose ponytail bounced while
following the ball. He was staring at the sporty girl, Kushieda Minori.
Why, you may ask? He liked her.
As though pulled by a magnet, Ryuuji's eyes zipped along, following
that dazzling smile. Then he glanced to the side for just a moment and was
swept away, his gaze now glued to a different place. Why, you may ask? It
was because he couldn't help but let that bother him. It was just in his
nature.
"Oh ho, of course, you've got your eye somewhere else, Takasu.
Yeah, her hem, huh, huh."
Someone's elbow prodded his back in a friendly way.
"The Palmtop Tiger's ankles…they're great. What great taste, you big
pervert."
Someone else's finger poked at his side.
"No, it's not her ankles, it's her hem. Whoa, it definitely is fraying…"
His dangerously sharp, sanpaku pupils converged as though they were
plastered to a certain girl's feet. He continued to stare straight at the undone
and flopping cuffed hems as if, through sheer anger, he could set them
alight with beams from his eyes.
In actuality, there would be no beams. He was just vowing to himself
that he would mend them that weekend.
The owner of the aforementioned tracksuit, the Palmtop Tiger, Aisaka
Taiga, didn't notice that gaze. She remained completely unmotivated and
just ran with everyone else. She raised both her hands to guard the goal, but
because of her short height, she wasn't an obstruction; the ball arced over
her head to easily swish through the net.
Kihara Maya threw her arms up in the air in victory, her long chestnut
hair tied to the side to expose her slender neck. When she stooped to pull up
her socks, the boys caught a glimpse of her chest through her collar, and a
surreptitious whisper of joy slipped from the group.
"Ahhhghh! Taiga, why?!"
"It's not my fault!"
Minori, who was the only one serious about playing basketball, went
after the rolling ball as she made an appeal to her teammate, Taiga. The
athletic blood that flowed through that body inspired her even in the lazy
afternoon PE class.
"I'm the only one who's been getting points in! Taiga, if you put in
even a smidge of effort, you'd really be good at this! Now take back the
point they just took!"
"I got it, I got it…"
Taiga received the ball from Minori's fast throw and started dribbling,
at least for the time being. It didn't seem like she was putting much effort
into it, but she passed around the girls on the opposing team, quickly
stepping under their arms as they reached out to reclaim the ball. It was as
though that ball were stuck to those small hands.
A low vocalization of admiration passed through the recumbent group
of watching boys—Whoa.
"Of course the Palmtop Tiger would have unrivaled reflexes. She's
super, super good."
"Actually, isn't her tush small?"
"It is, it's tiny."
In the middle of the stirring group, Ryuuji alone was feeling uneasy
from his hunch that the hem Taiga was now stepping on would bring her
close to falling. Then he noticed that Minori was doing something cute
again. She clapped her hands together as she followed Taiga around, crying
"Good, good, Taiga-chan, do it like that!" Ryuuji's eyes glinted more
dangerously, tinged with the heat of his secret sentiments. His gaze
restlessly swerved left and right.
Eventually, Taiga was surrounded by a group of three.
"Hey, Dimhuahua!"
"Huh~?"
With a precise pass that bounced past the group's feet, Taiga sent the
ball to the one whose very strange nickname only she used—Kawashima
Ami.
"Whoa! It's Ami-chan, it's Ami-chan!"
"You're so cute, you angel! You're lovely, you model!"
"Ami-chan, you're cute even in your tracksuit! You're pretty!
Kyaah!"
The sprawled idiots suddenly got up and put their hands together for
the dazzling beauty, who seemed to sparkle. They were feverishly and
impatiently wriggling in anticipation of her play. This was to be expected.
Ami was a high school girl and also a pro-model. Her face was fairer and
more piquant than anyone's, and her magnificently large eyes glittered like
sparkling jewels. Even in her tracksuit, her slim, tall figure was like that of
a beautiful fairy that had appeared out of a dense forest.
Basically, anyone would recognize she was super stunning. Even
Ryuuji, who knew the many shortcomings of her personality,
unintentionally allowed his gaze to be stolen by her figure.
"No, no, stop, my nails are long right now, so I can't touch the ball.
They might break." Ami pouted her cherry-colored lips as she griped.
Then she put her left hand on her cheek, and as though she were
tossing something in the trash, threw the ball that had been passed to her
back with her right hand. Taiga failed to catch it, and it bounced off the top
of her head, flying up and into the hands of the opposing team.
Ow. As Taiga choked and held her head, Ami said something that
would terrify even the heavens.
"Soorry! No way, Aisaka-san! Did that impact just make you even
shorter?! Oh no, now you're so small… Oh, I guess you were always about
this short! Just kidding!"
Ha ha ha! Ami laughed, pretending to be cute.
"Nuahh! What are you doing, Ahmin, you fool!"
"Minori-chan, if we give up, the game will be over already, won't it?
♥"
"What are you saying?! Like I'd let it end like this!"
Pursuing Ami from behind, Minori gave Ami's slender neck a few
tickles. Ami writhed.
"What are you doing, you dullard?! You dumb Dimhuahua! You
ignoramus! You numbskull! You faux-oblivious Chihuahua! You're black
hearted! You've got a washed-up personality! You horrible lecher! I'll have
your head!"
"Ugh—ack!"
Without a pause, Taiga, who wasn't about to let this slide, punched
Ami in the throat. You can train all your other muscles but not your throat,
the action seemed to say. Ami sank to her knees.
"Hey, Minorin, pass it here, pass it!" With no time to spare, Taiga
took the pass from Minori where she was next to Ami.
"Hey, Dimhuahua, I'm passing it to you one more time!"
Taiga threw the ball, aiming for the top of Ami's head. Ami was still
collapsed, folded over, and coughing. Bop! The ball made an odd noise as it
hit Ami and curved through the air, frightening in its accuracy, once again
into the hands of the opposing team.
"Taigaaa?! What do you think you're doing?! Are you trying to make
me mad?!"
"No, Minorin, that was Dimhuahua's fault just now."
"Cough… No way. Seriously, Aisaka-san, I can't believe you…"
Ami eventually stood back up and stuck an angelic smile on her face,
so pure that it was obviously phony. Even Taiga took a step back out of
unease at that bloodcurdling act. Ami, still grinning, started to steadily close
the distance between them.
To the boys watching the terrifying display from afar, it was nothing
more than a scene from a lustful fantasy forming quicker than a storm cloud
in midsummer.
"She's got such a cute smile. Ami-chan's definitely an angel…"
"Oh, oh, the Palmtop tripped on her hem and fell over…"
"Ami-chan's going along with it and riding the Tiger. That's nice, I
want her to do that to me, too…"
"Riding on someone's back seems like it'd be nice for some
reason…"
"It'd look like this from below…"
Ryuuji was the only one who realized one of the usual bloodbaths
starting. Ami's long arms were trying to strangle Taiga, and Taiga's small
fingertips were trying to jab Ami's eyes. Their bellowing echoed throughout
the gym. The other girls, realizing now wasn't the time to be playing
basketball, were making a huge fuss, trying to pull the two apart, running
away, providing aid, or leaving them be.
During that scene from hell, Haruta suddenly spoke up.
"Hey, everyone," he said, "you all like Ami-chan, right? You think
she's cute, right? I think she is."
He pushed up his depressingly long hair. It was fading only at the
ends, possibly the vestiges of the bleached (and infamous) hairdo that he
had over the summer. Then with a serious look they normally never saw on
his face, he flung his arm passionately around Ryuuji's shoulder.
Gross, thought Ryuuji. While he threw off Haruta's hand, Ami
shrieked as though in the throes of death. He didn't know what was being
done to her, but she was on her back on the court.
However, that was there, and they were here. The group of boys
poked Haruta in the forehead as punishment.
"What are you going on about all of a sudden? That's conceited even
for you, Haruta."
"Don't disturb my sweet time with Ami-chan with your trivial
chitchat."
Even holding onto his now-reddening forehead, Haruta didn't back
down from his mysterious assertion. "Owww…but you think so, right?
Everyone's super in love with Ami-chan, right?"
"Of course, because Ami-chan's cute."
"But it's kind of infuriating when you say it, Haruta. Like, I don't
want you to say my precious Ami-chan's name like you're all close with
her. Of course Ami-chan's the cutest in the class—no, actually, in the
school."
"Oh, is that what we're talking about? Then I'm Team Palmtop Tiger.
I can't get enough of her ferocity."
"What? Then I like Kashii. Like, she seems like if you push her, she'd
fall right over. She seems like she'd be gentle and forgiving, and even
accept someone like me."
"If we're talking about that, then isn't Kihara super great? This stays
between us, but even though she acts like that, she's never been in a
relationship."
No way, really? I can't imagine that, thought Ryuuji. As the boys
worked themselves up, whispering to each other, he thought to himself, I
think Kushieda's cute. He thought her courage was cute as she planted
herself between Taiga and Ami to pull them apart. Even that strange face
she was making was cute as she soothed Taiga, who was trying to bite her,
by saying "See? Nothing to fear…"
As though he were collecting the rose-colored images running
through each of their minds, Haruta cast a sharp but suggestive glance at all
of them.
"That! Is! It! Uhh, ladies and zentlemen."
There ain't any ladies here and what are zentlemen? was the general
outcry. Haruta paid no attention to what they were saying.
"Well, everyone, don't you want to see how cute your crushes look
when they're not at school? For example, how about as a maid?! Hoo hoo!
Right, Takasu, you'll get on board, too, won't you?!"
Ryuuji felt the sweltering breath of his friend on his cheek. It reeked
of Frisk mints. Reflexively, he looked intently into Haruta's face.
"Haruta, are you okay? You didn't get into something weird during
the summer break? Like a weird drug, or a weird pyramid scheme, or a
cult… Oh, are you acting weird because you're holding a grudge over when
Kawashima and I left you behind to go to her villa…"
"I am holding a grudge! But this is a separate issue. I'm serious about
what I'm saying! Oh, I was too loud. All of you, listen to me and take this
seriously. Yuri-chan said she'd talk about the cultural festival and the class's
exhibition during the next long homeroom, right? That's me—me. I'm the
acting committee member."
"Were you?"
"I had no idea…"
"So? What about it?"
Haruta brushed aside the undesired reactions and secured a position at
the center of their huddle. "Come, come," he motioned and lowered his
voice further.
"So, if, for example, our class did a maid café for the cultural festival,
we could see all the girls dressed up as maids. If all the boys work together
and we have a majority vote, they can't complain. The girls aren't all on the
same page. How's that?"
Right… A low murmur broke out from the corner of the sweatysmelling gym.
"That's good planning, for Haruta."
"Seventeen years since he was born, and the light finally switched on
in his head."
"His parents must certainly be happy."
"Hee hee hee, you can say whatever you want. So then, you're all
okay with it? We're all completely unified in our maid café, so it's decided
—"
"Wait a second!"
The face that thrust itself before Haruta's eyes belonged to his sworn
friend Noto, who wore black glasses.
"I may be rocking the boat here, but I absolutely want to suggest a
Chinese café instead of a maid café. Imagine it, Kihara in a cheongsam…in
shiny fabric, and it'd be skin-tight around her body, like this—" He made a
sort of hourglass gesture. "—and you'd get a peek at her thigh. And she'd
be like, how do you like the tea?"
They pretty much all turned their eyes upward as they considered it.
That's something we could totally go for. Yeah yeah. Ryuuji wasn't that sold
on it, but he imagined his classmate exaggeratedly saying, "Nihao." His
eyes gleamed. Then he scowled immediately, as though he were
reconsidering everything.
"No, wait everyone…"
His bitter voice rose up as though to cut off the imaginations and
excitement of those around him.
"What, Takasu? Why're you looking at us with those eyes while
we're all getting pumped?"
"We can see right through you. What a dirty guy."
This a misunderstanding, he thought. He wasn't staring at the boys
with unrestrained thirst. He had just thought of something.
Kihara would look great in a cheongsam. Kashii, too. Of course, it'd
look good on Ami also, and it would even be super cute on Minori. Her hair
could be in wholesome, sexy buns.
But that one—Taiga—wouldn't she look pitiful in a cheongsam?
If she ended up being exposed to other's eyes in a form-fitting dress
with her flat body, her psychological complexes would definitely become
worse, and she'd end up with a neurosis so bad she wouldn't be able to keep
a meal down. He would be the one taking care of her. Then, after that was
over she'd definitely be ordering him around. It would be make pads this
and make soy milk that.
He needed to think of something that would fit Taiga better than a
cheongsam or that would be easier on him to deal with.
"What about that Lolita thing or whatever you call it? That frilly
stuff… Wouldn't that be great?"
The boys all fell into silence for a moment. Oh no, he thought, did I
go too far? He gulped.
"Takasu…are you a genius?!"
"This…is worthy of applause. Loli! Or Goth Loli! That's what I
want!"
Moderate applause surrounded him from inside the circle. The only
one looking bitter was Haruta.
"Wait, wait," he said. "We have to be unanimously on the same page,
so don't blurt out random stuff. We won't know what we're doing
anymore… Uhh, uhh, what was I saying again?"
He just doesn't have the mental capacity, everyone understood. They
turned sympathetic looks on the biggest idiot in their class.
That was when the true genius appeared.
"If we do a cosplay cafe, then couldn't we have everything?"
When all the boys turned around, the person they saw was none other
than the honor student Kitamura Yuusaku, who was pushing up his glinting,
silver-rimmed glasses with a finger. His even bangs were cut to a sharp
edge for the second semester, and his nerdy Maruo engine was firing on all
cylinders. The slightly concerning sunburn on his face and arms was the
result of enjoying his summer club activities and trips.
"Th-that's it! Let's do that! If we do a cosplay café, anything goes!
Good job, Kitamura. You don't have a bowl cut just for show~!"
Haruta merrily grasped Kitamura's back. Kitamura, not entirely
dissatisfied, endured the stickiness of Haruta's armpit. Of course, of course.
Everyone praised his genius, ruffled his black hair, and rubbed his
unexpectedly muscular arms.
Ryuuji, his close friend, had also joined everyone else to look upon
Kitamura with loving reverence. He was happily dreaming up an image in
his head. It was, of course, of Minori—Minori in a maid uniform, Minori in
a cheongsam, Minori in Lolita—any Minori turning a faint smile at him and
bashfully asking, "How does this look?"
It looks really good, he thought. It's great. It's absolutely great.
Kitamura stood in the center of the ring of excited boys, who jostled
and pawed at him in praise.
"All according to plan!" he said.
Tilting his head down so no one else could see, Kitamura's mouth
contorted into a suspicious smile. No one had noticed it yet. Hee hee hee, he
laughed soundlessly.
"Now we just have to wait for their move—ow!"
"Ow!"
"Ouch!"
That head, and the head next to it, and the head behind, and Ryuuji's
head were smacked in turn. At some point, the girls' basketball game had
finished. Kuro-muscle, the gym instructor, had an unpleasant look on his
face as he hit the boys with the attendance sheet. They hadn't come when
ordered, no matter how much time passed, and had continued to stick close
together.
"All of you, drink some protein. Drink some protein and get
yourselves up and moving."
"Ryuuji!" said Taiga. "Look at this, right here! Dimhuahua tore it!"
"Right…" said Ryuuji.
As they returned to the changing rooms through the breezeway,
Ryuuji saw the River Sanzu for a moment—or so he thought. Taiga had
jumped at his tracksuit from behind and used her whole weight to strangle
him by grabbing his collar. As he was on the verge of blacking out, a
roundhouse kick appeared before his shaking vision—or so he thought.
"Right here, it's torn! Dimhuahua did it!"
She was showing him her tracksuit hem. It had ripped and now
drooped tragically over her heel. In order to show it to Ryuuji, she had
brought her foot up as though to kick him from behind. As she did that, he
automatically grabbed her ankle.
"Aaah, this is terrible… I think I can mend it by putting fabric behind
it…a fabric backing…but the issue is with the elasticity… Guess I've got to
cut up one of Yasuko's granny shirts."
As he thought of his mother's beige undergarments, he nodded to
himself. He could put fabric backing on just one leg, but then there was the
fear it might become unbalanced with the extra weight. He could roll both
hems up and sew them, but he had qualms about making irreversible
changes. Even gym clothes were still part of the school uniform. The
furrows in his brow deepened.
Across from him, Taiga was losing her balance as Ryuuji held her
ankle.
"Uhh! Uhh!" she cried, flapping her arms like she was drowning, but
he didn't even notice. The inside of his head was dancing with shears,
needles, tracksuits, and granny shirts. This was Ryuuji's world. Take
caution all who enter, lest you be turned into a housewife.
"Hey, seriously," said Ami. "Don't say anything that would give
others the wrong idea. You stepped on it and fell down on your own and
tore it yourself, didn't you? Hey, Takasu-kun, you were watching, weren't
you? I didn't do anything, right?"
She had gone out of her way to rush up to them, probably so she
could get a word in. She was right in front of him and looking at him with
upturned eyes. She made her voice sound innocent, as though to appeal to
him.
Huh, Ryuuji thought as he finally returned to his senses. His sanpaku
eyes turned to Ami, and in that moment, disaster struck.
"Whoa, that was close," said Taiga. "I almost fell again!"
Whether it was intentional or coincidental, Taiga's hand grasped at
thin air as she righted herself, and…
"Whoa?!"
…Pulled the waist of Ami's tracksuit firmly down by seven
centimeters.
In front of Ryuuji's speechless eyes and those of several boys walking
by, the pure white skin of Ami's hip flashed at them like a lighthouse signal.
Taiga pretended to wipe sweat from her forehead, and Ami stared at her in a
stupor.
Finally, several seconds later, a scream erupted from Ami's mouth
like lava overflowing from a crater.
"GYAAAAaaaaaaa!"
"Uwah," said Taiga. "What a racket."
Several of the boys unexpectedly put their hands together, as if
offering a prayer to Taiga as she stuck her fingers in her ears. Ami's cheeks,
whether from rage or shame, turned crimson.
"Y-y-y-you, what are you doing?! That was scary!"
"Gah ha, that face. Dimhuahua, look in a mirror. Your true colors are
showing." Taiga's smile was heaped with scorn.
Ami swallowed her words with a "Guh!" A vein showing on her
temple, she seemed to gather her strength for a moment.
"Hmph!"
And then…
"Ha…ha ha ha ha ha ha!"
BAM! An angelic smile appeared on Ami's face. It looked like it had
been hammered into shape out of iron. She was going this far to play
innocent. She was like a museum-worthy piece of art—no, this performance
was already peak pageantry.
Without thinking, Ryuuji turned a reverent gaze on her. Before him,
Taiga huffed and became unnecessarily arrogant.
"Anyway," she said, "that's what happened. I'll bring it home, so
have it fixed by the weekend."
Having issued this order, she walked briskly away. But Ami, who was
filled with anger, walked even more briskly behind her with her iron-clad
smile still in place.
"Ha ha ha ha, wait, Aisaka-san. We haven't finished our talk, ha ha ha
ha ha!"
Feeling as though he had just watched a stand-up routine, Ryuuji
followed the two with his eyes as they disappeared into the girls' changing
room.
Then he noticed her.
Minori, who normally mediated between Ami and Taiga in times like
this, was watching them from some distance away—or really, she was
looking at the empty space where the two had been. She was stealthily
peering from a gap among the other girls in a corner of the hallway. Their
eyes accidentally met.
"Hey!"
He wasn't sure what she was thinking, but Minori put up one of her
hands and gave him a stilted, incredibly strenuous greeting, something to
the effect of Y-yo. He put up his hand in the same way, but Minori didn't
say anything more to him.
With her hand still up, she crab-walked along the wall of the small
hallway and kept her distance as she passed Ryuuji with a strangely curt
laugh. She scratched her head as though she didn't know what to do with
her raised hand.
"Ha ha ha. Well, then, um, what was it… See ya!"
Then she jogged away and jumped into the girls' changing room.
"Wh-what?"
Ryuuji tilted his head and let his raised sanpaku eyes glint.
Immediately behind him, Kitamura, who had watched the whole thing,
folded his arms together in wonder.
"She's been acting weird. Well, she wasn't that normal to begin with,
though."
Right, she was acting weird. Actually, Minori had been acting weird
ever since they started the new semester. Ryuuji pursed his lips. Whenever
Minori was with Taiga, or Ami, or anyone else, she was normal, but for
some reason she kept a strange distance whenever she approached him—or,
at least, that was what it felt like.
He'd felt like he had gotten closer to her during the summer trip, but
he might have been conveniently misunderstanding what had happened. It
always went well with the Minori in his imagination, but of course that
would be the case, wouldn't it? His imagination was just that, his
imagination.
Ryuuji stared at the girls' changing room door, reluctant to leave.
Then, realizing he was creeping out an unfamiliar underclassman who was
looking at him, he rushed into the boys' changing room.
***
"Uh, well then, I'll give it over to the cultural festival chair, I guess.
Haruta, I leave it to you."
"Yes."
Finishing up the necessary announcements during the long homeroom
period, Kitamura, the class representative, got off the teacher's podium and
gave the floor over to Haruta. They gave each other secret, meaningful
looks.
"Thanks," said Haruta
"Anks-thay," said Kitamura.
The moment they passed each other, they grinned.
Come to think of it, Haruta wasn't the only acting committee
member.
"Ami-chaaan, you can do it!"
"Aha ha, I'll try. ♥"
Haruta, who had arrived at the platform one step ahead, looked
unpleasantly delighted. Yes, the person who currently was being showered
in enchanted looks and cheers by the class as she made her graceful way to
the platform was Ami.
Ami, who transferred in May, was the only one who hadn't been part
of any department or committee. At the lone, random judgment of a certain
bachelorette who said, "It seems like it'd suit you," she was nominated as a
chair for the cultural festival acting committee. For Haruta, who had been
given the role after losing at roshambo, this was a turn of fortune that
threatened the already precarious jury-rigging holding his adolescent brain
together.
"It's my first time being a chairperson," said Ami. "I'm so nervous.
Let's do our best, Haruta-kun."
"Uhhh, yeah, let's do it."
Standing side by side at the podium, he looked giddy as he grinned.
Looking up at his friend's unseemly face, Ryuuji wryly smiled with
everyone else as they clapped. For the time being, they'd got everyone riled
up. There were glances exchanged in the classroom, but only among the
boys.
You got it?
Got it.
Ryuuji also nodded and mouthed an answer to the others' looks. This
homeroom only had one final stop, and that station's name was cosplay
café.
"What're you grinning for? Gross."
"Whoa!" said Ryuuji, practically jumping in his seat.
While he was distracted, Taiga had appeared at the edge of his desk.
She stooped; with her tiny body, she looked like she was nibbling at the
desk like a baby rat.
"Wh-what are you doing?" said Ryuuji. "We're in class right now."
Still curled up into a compact crouch, Taiga stared up at Ryuuji with
her large eyes narrowed.
"It's fine," she said. "Hurry up and bring that out."
She chewed on the thin joints of her fingers in frustration and
haughtily raised her chin.
"That?" said Ryuuji. "What?"
"My lunch. The one I didn't have enough time to eat."
Come to think of it, there was a Tupperware of fruit he had put
together with Taiga's bento box. "I'm definitely going to eat this later, so
you're responsible for keeping it good until then!" she had asserted.
"You're gonna eat it now?"
"Yeah. Right now. I've got time."
"You've got time…but we're in class right now…"
"Shut up. Hurry, you mongrel. Whiners get shiners. Big ones, too."
Ryuuji shuddered but received glances of worry from the other boys
around him—We're begging you, please don't make trouble in this
important moment. He felt a wordless pressure. There was no mistaking that
if Taiga found out about their plan, she would smash it to smithereens. She
would destroy anything related to it because that was the way of the
Palmtop Tiger.
No, even if she didn't find out about anything, just having this
troublemaker stick by him was enough to make him scared the plan would
come apart. That was what a troublemaker was. Her presence alone would
disrupt fate and throw everything out of kilter. In that case, he had to hurry
up and give her what she wanted. He needed to have her stand up and leave.
He searched the inside of his bag, pulled out a small Tupperware that
was wrapped in an old-fashioned furoshiki cloth he had taken a liking to
and mail ordered (though the pattern was modern, with freehanded
geometric black and white lines on a nearly black indigo), and offered it to
her. Taiga pursed her lips and uttered a long drawn-out "Wow." Her eyes
glittered.
"Hurry!"
She anxiously shook his shoulders even though he was already
holding it out in front of her eyes.
"I said hurry up and open it!"
"M-me?"
"That Tupperware is so hard to open that it always spills! Hurry up
and open it!"
You stubborn—but now wasn't the time to rebuke her. He took the
Tupperware and opened it. Inside was Taiga's favorite sliced mango. Taiga
gripped the teeny fork like a little kid and looked into the Tupperware,
eyeing the mango with a gleefully murderous fervor.
"Why are you eating here?!"
"So I don't have to go to the trouble of bringing the empty
Tupperware back to you."
At the teacher's platform, Haruta's face looked slick, like it had been
freshly oiled, probably because he was so excited. He looked down at the
class with both hands on the teacher's podium.
"Well then!" he said. "Let's get on with the agenda! The topic is what
our class, 2-C, is going to do for this year's cultural festival exhibition!"
At his side, Ami was smiling as though she were having fun, but she
was holding something that looked like a tube of hand cream. She was
massaging it into her nail beds. In short, it seemed she didn't have any
interest at all. Taiga, still at Ryuuji's desk, was preoccupied with trying to
stab at the pieces of mango that slipped and escaped from her fork. It
seemed she didn't intend to hear one word of what Haruta was saying.
Go eat at your own desk, thought Ryuuji. He tried pushing her away
by the shoulders, but she was as unmoving as a mountain.
It seemed that Ami and Taiga weren't the only ambivalent ones. The
other girls all generally were, too. There were some completely face down
on their desks as though they were sleeping, some opening magazines under
their desks, and some listening to music through the white ear buds they
had stuck into their ears even though they were facing the front. The ones
that were quiet were the better of them.
"Can't we just not do anything?"
"Haruta, you should avoid bringing attention to yourself."
There were a few jeering boorishly at Haruta as they listlessly sat.
Goth Loli would never look good on you, Ryuuji thought quietly to
himself. Even if they picked the cosplay café without incident, he couldn't
let them wear frills. Of course, a cheongsam or maid outfit wouldn't suit
them, either. They could be behind the scenes. No, wait, behind the scenes
of a café would be kitchen work. Could he leave the kitchen to them? That
wouldn't do. He shook his head furiously side to side.
The kitchen, the dishwashing, and everything needs to be properly
managed, he thought. By me.
He was back in Ryuuji world. The scene playing out in his head was
of the boisterous cultural festival, the chaos in the kitchen reaching its
limits, the raw sewage building up in the sink, the clouding stainless steel,
the dirty drain—You don't have to touch it! Don't do anything to it! Leave it
to me! I'll do all of it!
But this wasn't the time for him to be immersed in his wild fantasies.
When Ryuuji returned to his senses, Haruta was already finishing up.
"Uhh, does anyone have opinions?! N-no one?! If there isn't then—"
A cosplay café.
And then it happened.
It happened when the leader decided for himself he was about to go
write on the blackboard with chalk.
It happened when all of the boys passionately formed their hands into
fists.
It happened when, at the corner of Ryuuji's desk, Taiga said, Ahhh.
She wrinkled her nose as she opened her mouth wide (even closing her
eyes), trying to stuff her cheeks with the mango.
It happened when Ryuuji tried to thrust a tissue at her. Oh no, the fruit
juice is going to drip all over.
"Innnnn seeeeveeeennnteeeeennn yeeeeaaaarrrrssss…"
It was Nobunaga at Honnouji wrapped in fluttering flames—not. It
was Minori, who had elected to say something during the listless, long
homeroom. With a look of complete resolve, she turned intensely, as though
she had come from the seventh circle of hell, and slowly, slowly stood up.
"If you're taking opinions…"
She wriggled.
Her face turned scarlet, and she suddenly looked bashful. A
foreboding feeling went through the coalition of boys like the crackle of
lightning. Minori was a girl even more dangerous than the strong and
sinister Palmtop Tiger. That was because her job was the tamer of that
strongest and most sinister beast, Taiga, whom she puppeteered at will.
The beast tamer continued to wriggle and act bashful as she traced
loops on her desk.
"Well, um, it's not like I want to do this, but, uh, I actually don't like
stuff like this. Uhhh, see, I thought it would be great if everyone had fun. I
thought it would be really fun for everyone. So, even though I don't like it, I
thought I'd mention it. But I had a really great idea. It's something I've
been warming up to for a while. No, no, it's definitely not right for me, but I
thought that maybe everyone would like that. Right, that…a-a haunt…
ugh!"
The whole class wordlessly pulled away together as Minori's face
turned red and her nose dripped blood. No one made a sound. They were
scared. Instead of making a sound, Ami squirted her hand cream ten
centimeters out onto the teacher's desk.
Taiga, who had frozen with her mouth still open, let her mango fall
right from her fork and into Ryuuji's palm.
"Ah-agh…hee hee. I got a nosebleed… Oh no, don't misunderstand!
I'm not trying to say anything weird. I-I just…uh-uhm, it's a h-haunted…
haunted house."
Even more red liquid came from Minori's nose as she held a tissue up
to it. It was visible from every direction in the classroom. It seemed that no
matter how tightly she pressed the tissue, the blood came flowing from her
nose just like her laughter. Hee hee! Hee hee! Hee hoo! Just how excited
was she?
She was beyond help.
"Kushieda. Let's leave it at that. Your body won't hold up."
"What did ya say?"
In the classroom that had gone silent, as though frozen over, just one
person stood up. It was Kitamura.
His glasses glinting, he lowered his voice in order to keep her from
getting any more excited. He dropped his shoulders as he slowly closed on
Minori.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa…"
He approached her with his wide eyes as he mimicked the behavior of
a chicken. He opened his arms up, and as though to soothe her, flapped
them. It seemed Minori couldn't tear her eyes away from the odd sight. She
rubbed away her nosebleed, opened her eyes wide in wonder, and watched
intently as he approached.
"Whoa, whoa…there, there… Now, Kushieda, why don't you come
with the chicken man to the infirmary? Right? We've got to get that
nosebleed stopped, don't we? It's okay, the chicken man will make sure to
get your proposal into the agenda."
As though she had been hypnotized, Minori's eyes went unfocused.
"R-really?"
"Ahh…whoa, whoa… Now, come this way!"
Too fast for the eye to see, Kitamura's arms latched onto Minori's
shoulders as she stood dumbfounded. Anyone would have thought he had
successfully grabbed her—but, in the next moment, they were taught a
lesson.
"You thought you could win with speed?" she said. "You fool."
"Guh…guh guh?!"
"Kitamura-kun," she went on. "I saw through your whole hand. Don't
you dare underestimate Minorin. Now, shall we start the show?"
"K-Kushieda?!"
"None of you come any closer! Get up to any funny business, and this
one gets—"
The lesson they were taught, of course, was that the strongest, most
sinister, and craziest member of this class was Kushieda Minori herself.
"—a SMASH! Okay…?"
Minori pinned Kitamura firmly from behind, wearing a thin smile.
She held her pointer finger in the shape of a pistol and pushed it against the
seam of Kitamura's slacks, right between his butt cheeks. If she went
SMASH, it seemed like it would be really bad.
"Kushieda! Don't do anything stupid!" Haruta shouted from the top
of the podium,.
"Stop it, Haruta! Kushieda's for real! She means it for real, and her
grip strength is over 50kg!"
Kitamura, held hostage with his glasses half askew, tried to entreaty
Haruta not to come to his aid. Everyone in 2-C was altogether speechless
and had dumbfounded looks on their faces. Ryuuji and Taiga watched
openmouthed at the sudden development of the hostage situation in front of
their very eyes.
"De de de den!" Someone started humming the rhythm to the Bayside
Shakedown opening. The tension increased all the more, but unfortunately,
there was no hero in sight. Minori looked at the idiotic faces sitting in a
row, and her lip contorted wickedly.
"Well, of course, I don't want to destroy Kitamura-kun's lower half. I
just have one demand! That we do a haunted house for the cultural
festival!"
"Kuuh!" said Kitamura.
It might have been because of Minori shouting by his ear, or fear of
the destruction of his lower half, but Kitamura jolted. Haruta bit his lip,
unable to do anything. It was terrible. The classroom was in an eddy of
commotion.
"A-a haunted house…"
"Whoa, lame!"
"On top of being dull, it seems like suuuuuch a pain…"
"Actually, I'm not interested in that at all."
"Why would we do a haunted house when we're second years?"
"Kushieda's dangerous, super dangerous."
The things the girls said were quite right. Plus, the boys were united
and had already started up their train of desire, which was heading towards
the last stop of a cosplay café. They couldn't let the train derail in a time
like this.
"We can't give in to Kushieda's demands, no matter what."
"Yeah, I agree."
"You're our sacrifice, Kitamura."
"Farewell."
"Bye-bye, Maruo."
As everyone waved at him, tears flowed from Kitamura's eyes.
"How coldhearted you are," he said. "But! I, Kitamura Yuusaku, have
had the resolve to sacrifice myself for everyone from the moment you
entrusted me to be the class representative!"
"Oh?"
"Now, do it, Kushieda! Now, now, now! If you'll be satisfied by
stabbing at my vital point, then stab away as many times as you wish!"
Kitamura's resolve seemed real, but Minori smiled as though she had
more.
"That's good," she said. "Youth is such a beautiful thing, Kitamurakun. Now grit your teeth."
SNAP. She cracked her knuckles. She pulled back her elbow, and
Kitamura automatically shut his eyes. The class couldn't look right at him,
either. They averted their eyes to escape watching the merciless scene about
to occur.
"Ha… I'll say this: I'm not the only one losing something, Kushieda.
You'll also be extinguishing that flame of ambition in your heart!"
Kitamura vexingly, but also somehow triumphantly, told Minori.
It's a draw, was what he meant. That was right. If Minori finished
this, then she would also have to withdraw her strange proposal.
But they were fools. They were all such fools.
"Lose? What a strange thing to say. It seems that you misunderstood
something. I, Kushieda, won't stop at making only Kitamura-kun my
scapegoat…"
"Wh-what?!"
"Nooow then…I woooonder whooo the neeeext scaaapegooooat
should beeeeEEEEEE?!"
In the middle of that shriek, Minori's finger made its finishing stroke
and moved to prod Kitamura. Kitamura's head spun like a revolving
lantern. If she wouldn't stop at this, did it mean that his sacrifice had been
in vain?
Shwooooooomp…
The sound came a split second before her finger could bomb its
intended spot.
"Come oooooout, 'Shadow Warriors!'" Haruta shouted while his
hand danced and fluttered in midair. He pointed to the back of the
classroom.
Several boys stood up from the seats where he pointed.
"Th-the Shadow Warriors?!" said Minori. "Ahhhh!"
In a flash, Kitamura had been rescued. The boys lifted Minori up onto
their shoulders with a gallant "Heave ho!"
"Whaaat are you doing?! No, let go! I won't give up! I'll never give
up! If you kill me, Kushieda, then your hearts will be haunted houses
forever! Gaaaah!"
The army shouldered Minori and simply rushed out of the classroom.
Eventually, Minori's shrieks became distant, until they could no longer be
heard from the classroom. Forgive me, Ryuuji thought as he clenched his
shaking fist.
Forgive me, Kushieda. I couldn't support you. This is all for your
cosplay look.
"M-Minorin! You idiots! Where did you idiots take Minorin?!" Even
though she had done nothing but watch so far, Taiga slowly stood up.
"To the morgue!" Haruta said. "It's the most fitting place for those
who try to settle things with violence!"
"What did you say?!" Taiga barked at Haruta's blunt response but
then curled up and crouched down the next moment.
"R-Ryuuji! What's a morgue?!"
"It's where they keep corpses," said Ryuuji.
"Corpses… Then Minorin is already…!"
"Whoa!"
For some reason, right at that moment, Taiga tried to eat the piece of
mango she had left uneaten by stabbing it with the fork—where it was still
enshrined in Ryuuji's palm. Ryuuji put his head down on his desk as he held
his hand, which now had a hole in it. Taiga paid no mind to him as she
popped the mango into her mouth.
As she chewed she said, "Mwinorin isn't hewe anymoe." Just how
nervous was she?
Haruta, for his part, looked around the classroom now that Minori
was gone. Kitamura was safe, and they had dispensed of the nuisances.
Now he could finally return to the main subject.
"Well then, now that the troublemakers are gone, let's get back to it!
About the cultural festival class exhibition, I have an opinion I won't hide!
That's a cosplay—"
But.
"Lan…lan la la lan lan lan…lan…lan la la laaaa…"
"Wh-who dares sing?!"
Haruta's words were interrupted once again. Someone in a corner of
the classroom was holding their knees, humming to their own rhythm into
the empty void.
Her name was Spinster. No, her name was actually Koigakubo Yuri
(age 30), the homeroom teacher.
"I won't allow it…"
The spinster (age 30) slowly looked around her classroom of students.
The large cotton pants that hid her body were beige, the knit V-neck that hid
the thickness of her two arms was also beige, and the barely-visible
stockings that wrapped around her ankles were beige. This was because you
could only wear pink and blue and green into your twenties. Lace was also
off limits, as were frills. Ribbons, pleated skirts, and anything that showed
your knees were just as bad. It was difficult. This was Koigakubo Yuri's life
in her thirties.
Yes, her thirties—the spinster's eyes (aged 30) were suddenly distant.
She had plowed through her opportunities as a college student. She
looked down upon her friends who went out to play instead of going to
class. She took her teacher-training course seriously.
When she graduated, they were at the peak of the employment glacier
period. Around the time her classmates started to tell her they had printed
hundreds of resumes that were rejected and failed, and when they started
the year by failing to find employment, she was fatefully conquering the
mighty hurdle that was her teacher certification exam. Since then, she had
been serious about moving up in the world. She was entrusted with the role
of a homeroom teacher. She had a bit of a reputation with the students'
parents.
With what the salary was in this day and age, she'd been able to save
a lot more than if she had been a lousy office lady (she was even paying
more than 100,000 yen for rent). During the summer break, she had gone on
a trip to Hong Kong with her mother and had even bought a Hermès Garden
Party bag!
She had gotten used to her friends from her college days getting
married left and right. That was because they were, of course, part of the
populace from the glacier generation, and they had a plain college degree
that only got them into small and medium-sized companies. The old bubble
generation was blocking them from the top, and the new bubble generation
was pushing up at them from below. If you were a temp employee, you
would want something that was certain, of course. In her position as a
government employee, she knew well enough just how much someone
could save up. She wouldn't be flustered or jealous anymore because she
was an adult. No matter what they said, she was still thirty. Once she got
there, she just thought that this was what being thirty was about.
But.
There was one thing that bothered her.
It seemed her cousin, who was the same age and from the same
hometown, had a child going to junior high the next year. She had found out
the day before through a phone call with her mom. It wasn't really
something she'd wanted to know. That was just how they were out in the
countryside.
But, well, junior high though.
Even if she gave birth the next day, it would just mean that her child
wouldn't be in junior high until she was forty-three. And then, it wasn't like
she could get pregnant the next day or the day after that or the week after
that. …That's it, she thought, that's all…
"I won't allow it… I won't… I won't allow it at all."
The bachelorette (only 30!) took a step forward like a trainee soldier
in the snow in Hakkoda. She roamed through the class as if searching for
the future she couldn't see. She arrived at the top of the teacher's platform
where Haruta and Ami stood side by side.
"Y-Yuri-chan-sensei?" they said in unison.
"Move aside!"
She pushed Haruta and Ami out of her way. You insects! The (just
30!) bachelorette smacked her bachelorette fist against her bachelorette
podium. Then she turned a wily look on the class.
"I won't let you do anything fun!"
She breathed out the words a teacher would never be expected to say
one at a time.
"A café? No! Making and showing an independent film? Absolutely
not! Putting on an original play? Of course I won't allow that! Putting
together a live band? Ahhhhh! That's the number one thing you can't do
right now in Japan! Getting everyone excited about something like that
within a day is a delusion, after all! Even if you got people excited, you
can't do that before Christmas, anyway! As your homeroom teacher, I want
everyone to see how harsh reality is! The whole time I was at my girls' high
school, there wasn't aaanything fun to do. I won't let you… I'll never let
you do it! Do you know about the employment glacier?! It was super
difficult! Even if you applied to a hundred places, you wouldn't even get a
single response! Even if you finally got something, they'd usually tell you
after two or three months that they didn't actually want you full-time and
would withdraw the offer! You'd have your heart broken by all kinds of
rejections, and your personality would change, and even if you got a job,
the girl you were friends with since spring of your first year of college
would say, 'Your life seems fun. Oh, you bought a car. Hmm. Being a
government employee is so easy, how nice. What's your salary? Ohh. But
that money's coming from our taxes, isn't it? Hmph.' And then they'd
abandon you! Haaaa, haaaa, haaa, haaaa!"
I can't look, thought Ryuuji. Their homeroom teacher (30, crying) had
been reduced to a ghoul.
With a snap of Haruta's fingers, the shadow army appeared again.
"I wanted to become a government employee, so I worked hard for it!
What's wrong with thaaaaaat…"
They lifted their homeroom teacher over their shoulders and took her
to the morgue as well. Haruta was being serious today.
Then there was the sound of someone politely knocking at the door.
Kitamura, holding his intact butt, quickly stood up. Through the cracked
door, he exchanged a word or two with an ordinary-looking male student
from another class—someone who seemed like they were probably from
the student council.
"Thank you for the message! I wish you well on your way back!"
They watched as the student (was he skipping class?) saluted and ran
away. Then Kitamura barged shamelessly onto the teacher's platform.
"A telegram from the student council! The principle and vice
principle have bestowed a decision upon us!"
A telegram? Wasn't that just a human? His classmates tilted their
heads.
"This year, the cultural festival is a class battle! We'll be making the
class exhibit a popularity vote with a point score. On top of that, we'll add
points for the Miss Festival and Mister Festival pageants, and the class who
gets first place will get a luxurious prize! To make it easier to understand,
I'll make a diagram…"
In his over-excitement, Kitamura started to draw mysterious circles
and arrows that wriggled over the blackboard. "I can't read that!" the class
generally remarked.
"Uhh, er! Here are the prizes!"
Scratch, scratch, scratch! This time, the chalk he made dance across
the blackboard with heavy strokes left thick marks:
One new moisture-controlled air conditioner unit that was going to be
installed next year will be preferentially installed sometime within the
month.
One stand-in refrigerator to be installed in the class for a full year.
One of the bathroom's forbidden outlets will be powered back on.
One class to be exempt from common area cleaning duty rotation.
One set of coupons for Market Kanou.
There was rustling. The ones who were stirring had now been the
most fundamentally unmotivated to do the cultural festival or anything at
all: the girls who had been listlessly holding their faces in their hands.
"…Don't you want AC?"
Yeah, girls get parched.
"…Don't you want a refrigerator?"
Yeah, girls always eat chilled pudding and jelly and want to keep
their leftover tea and juice and stuff cold.
"…Don't you want to use the power in the bathrooms?"
Yeah, girls always want to curl their hair in the bathrooms.
"…Don't you want to skip the cleaning?"
Yeah, girls always hate cleaning the bathrooms.
"…Don't you want those coupons?"
That was Ryuuji. Kanou Market was a little out of the way from the
Takasu's house, but they had the best stuff around and kept a large variety
of products stocked. For that reason, they were just a little more expensive
than other places, so he wanted those coupons so badly, he could taste it. He
subconsciously licked his lips. Taiga, who was hoarding her mango directly
below him, looked up unpleasantly, but he didn't even notice.
"No way, no way, no way! I kind of want to win this!"
"I want to curl my hair! I definitely do!"
The girls were pretty much starting to stand up from excitement,
making a high-pitched commotion. This isn't good if we want things to go
smoothly, thought Ami. Without minding Haruta, she pulled him aside.
"Okaaay, okay okay, then let's have everyone state their opinions all
around? I'll write them on the board. Hey, Yuusaku, you're in the way.
Hurry up and get off."
Ami pushed Kitamura off the platform, and without hesitation, erased
all the words he had scrawled on the board. In their place, she wrote "Your
Opinions Please. ♥" She turned her angelic smile on the class. The pressure
was on from the stirring girls, but the one who gathered his café to make the
first move towards certain victory was Noto.
"Y-yeah, yeah, yeah! How about a cosplay café!"
Fiiiiiiiinally someone said it! Natural applause broke out from the
boys, Haruta included.
"Whaaaaaaaaaat?!"
Faster than Ami could write it on the board, the girls were booing on
a large scale.
"Isn't that super nerdy?! This is bad, this is bad! It! Is! Bad!"
"Come to think of it, we'll definitely overlap with another class."
"I'd neeeever want to do that!"
"What do the boys think they're going to cosplay?! A bottom feeder
or something?! Huh?!"
"Anyway, you're just going to make Ami-chan wear something super
risqué so you can just enjoy yourselves, aren't you?!"
"Perverts, perverts!"
"You perverts! Go extinct!"
Showered with a concentration of abusive fire, Noto was practically
close to tears.
"Right. We can just switch it so the boys do their best at the front and
the girls work the back. How about a host club or something?"
Pushing up her softly curled hair, Kashii Nanako spoke in a voice that
seemed like it could melt. The mole near her mouth had an allure unlike
that of a high school student. That's it. Maya also clapped her hands
together in support.
"As expected of Nanako. That's a great proposal! Isn't it super great?
A host club! A host club!"
Hmm, hmm, a host club, Ami wrote in nice penmanship on the
blackboard. This was bad. As they felt the conversation heading in a
different direction, the boys avoided each other's gazes. Then another
tribulation paid them a visit.
"Wouldn't you rather have a drag queen bar? That'd definitely be a
laugh."
What could you call this other than a tribulation?
"Ahh, now we're talking."
"No one would ever accept a host club unless everyone's handsome,
right?"
"We just have to go for making them laugh."
"If Takasu-kun cross-dressed, that would be super funny, right?"
"M-me…?"
Ryuuji lowered his face, quaking with astonishment. He heard Ami
sputter from the platform.
"Puh."
As ever, Taiga, who was clinging to his desk, said, "No one would be
laughing. They don't understand it at all… They don't understand the
power of Ryuuji's face. It's okay, Ryuuji, I won't ever let them do that." She
strangely and calmly seemed to be against the idea, though her words hurt
him even further.
But it didn't end there. One girl from the troop of fujoshi, who were
usually always in their own world of inside jokes and didn't participate in
the classroom much, looked strangely happy as she stood up.
"Instead of cross-dressing, how about a BL café? A butler top and a
domineering bottom who sometimes hate each other and sometimes love
each other. They'll be impolite to the customers…or something like that!
How about it!"
"Hm, mmhmm-what?! A love-hate relationship and being rude to
customers…how is that useful?!"
"Actually, what would you think about putting on a play like that
instead?!"
"Oh, that'd be fine. You're worthy of nomination as a lady in a
leading role! You're a master!"
"You cute, rotten girls, you make sure you keep a tight grip on
Granny!"
"Granny-sama, is this what they call BL theater?!"
"Nooo! Kyaaa! Who's the top going to be?! Do they have to speak
politely?! What about glasses?! What about white coats?!"
"We'd definitely need to have Granny-sama write the script!"
"Kyaaa! The draaaaft! Yahoo! auctions aren't allowed!"
Though the fujoshi were still pretty much unintelligible, the other
girls were applauding them.
"Shouldn't we just say it's decided?"
"This is completely perfect, isn't it?"
The girls were getting worse. Their piercing shrieks deafened
everyone, so there weren't any boys left who could say anything. Everyone
other than Kitamura had their ears covered, their eyes closed, and were on
individual trips to different universes.
Guh, Haruta gasped.
Using the desk to bear his weight as he stood, he bitterly raised his
voice.
"W-we won't get anywhere like this! Since it's come to this, we'll
take a decisive vote! Everyone, put down what you want to do on paper!
Once you write it, pass them all to the front! Toss them in this convenience
store bag!"
He was cutting off the likely flow towards defeat. It was a great
proposal. After shooing Taiga back to her seat, Ryuuji wrote cosplay café,
of course. All the other boys had definitely written it, too. No matter how
motivated the girls were, they were just a disorderly gathering, after all.
They weren't a threat to the solid monolith that was the boys.
Or they shouldn't have been.
"All right!" said Haruta. "Has everyone written what they want?!
Shake! And! Lottery! It's sudden death! When we chose the competition
between Ami-chan and Tiger in our class, we did it like this so it was
impartial, too! Whether you're smiling or crying, don't complain! This is
it!"
"Okay!" the girls replied.
A lottery?
Sudden death?
This is it?
Wait…
Haruta smiled before the eyes of the boys, who had their hands
stretched out in protest and were half standing. He pulled out one piece of
paper.
"I'm announcing it! For this year's cultural festival, our class 2-C's
exhibition is pro—huhh?!"
The paper fluttered down and dropped from Haruta's hand. Ami
quickly grabbed it from beside him.
"Uhhh, what? What? What is this?! A p-pro-wrestling show, and in
parentheses it says, 'no kayfabe'… What is this?! Who wrote this?!"
"Don't screw with me! What's wrong with all of you?! It's not a
cosplay café?!"
Ryuuji suddenly, composedly admonished Haruta, who was yelling
beside Ami.
"Actually," he said, "why didn't you decide by majority rules…?"
They were in silence for a good five seconds.
"Huh?!" said Haruta.
The boys all put their heads on their desks and sobbed. What do you
mean, huh? Why is Haruta so stupid? He really must have bribed his way
into this school…
In the back of the classroom, which had two entrances, someone was
snickering at the pandemonium.
"You thought you could throw out your homeroom teacher…
Remember this… You remember this…"
She had returned to the earthly plane on her own power. Her vote was
meant to rile them up. Nonchalant and covered in dust, the one who had
spectacularly won the sudden death lottery through the power of sheer luck
was the spinster (age 30).
Next to her was a dusty body that had also escaped the morgue. It had
used up all its strength right before the vote and was slumped over, clinging
to the spinster's legs. It was Minori. In her hand was a note that she hadn't
been able to cast in the ballot. It had haunted house written on it.
Well, in situations like this, what was one to do?
"Well, setting that aside!"
Haruta casually stole the paper from Ami's hand, crumpled it, and
threw it somewhere. No one reproached him. Even if they had to do it after
school, they could redo everything according to plan without their
homeroom teacher.
Now now, we've forgotten it all, said Haruta's body language as he
once again leaned over the teacher's desk. Beside the chairperson, Ami
adjusted her bangs, and her angelic smile floated back on her face.
"Uhh," said Haruta, "we're starting the long homeroom! The topic is
the cultural festival! So, come to think of it, right, right, we don't have
much time left, but don't we have to pick a girl to be our Miss Festival
pageant entry?"
"What about the Mister Festival?" someone asked.
"The guidelines for that will be announced the day of the cultural
festival. Well actually, for our class, we don't really have to choose or
anything. Right, Ami-chan?"
Ami's eyes opened so wide they seemed about to drop out of their
sockets.
"Huh? Me? H-huh, what, what, whaaat? No way, I have no idea what
you're talking about!"
"You're doing that again! You know just as well! If you're our
candidate, Ami-chan, it's the same as us winning the Miss Festival!"
This time around, there was no contestation among the class. They all
nodded in agreement with Haruta's words, thinking the same thing: If Ami
represents the class as Miss Festival, it's a sure thing.
"Whaaat?! No way, no, no, no, not happening!"
Internally, the real Ami was laughing. If I were representing the class,
she thought, we would have been guaranteed victory even before
prerecorded history, gah ha ha! But Ami's goody-two-shoes exterior
hunched her back like a shrimp and waved both of her hands. "No, no." She
retreated until her butt hit the blackboard.
"I'm really taken aback by everyone's feelings, and I'm really, really
happy, but actually, I'm going to be emceeing the Miss Festival pageant!
Sorry everyone, even though you were nominating little old me!"
What?! The classroom shook with voices of despair as Ami's
Chihuahua eyes stayed giddy, taking on a haughty glitter.
"Really?!" said Haruta. "I forgot, actually. I don't remember that at
all, but if that's how it is…what should we do? Actually, I feel kind of sad
for her…"
His gaze went to the dead spinster (30, close to burning out…) at the
back of the classroom. They could have their homeroom teacher as the class
representative for Miss Festival. Everyone started agreeing that it could
work as a joke, but Ami intercepted that thought.
"Hmmm. That doesn't seem like it's allowed, Haruta-kun. According
to the guidelines, jokes aren't allowed this year. In other words, boys aren't
allowed, instructors aren't allowed, people who aren't in the class—cartoon
characters, students' family members, and so on aren't allowed. They said
we have to choose one representative from the girls in the class."
As though the earlier rise in spirits had never happened, the secondyear class C fell into silence. All of them were flummoxed.
They had to choose just one girl—the cutest girl from the class.
And the cutest girl couldn't be Ami, the established pro-model.
It stood to reason they would be perplexed. If anything, the
seventeen-year-olds were part of the Yutori education generation. Not
"there can be only one", but rather, "everyone." They had been taught from
birth to believe everyone was beautiful and everyone was great. For the
most part, no one had ever asked them to rank people by how cute their
faces were.
"I think Aisaka-san would be great."
"Whaat?!"
The one who'd voiced this unexpected opinion was Ami, looking
down on Taiga spitefully from the teacher's platform. She narrowed her
eyes and laughed—nha ha—completely ignoring the din of the class. Taiga,
who had been on the verge of dozing off, jumped up and glared at Ami as
though trying to shoot her down with her gaze. Ami easily evaded her.
"See," she said, "because Aisaka-san is super teeny-tiny and adorable.
She's popular enough here to have her own cute nickname—I mean,
Palmtop Tiger? Don't you think she'd get a lot of votes~? Wouldn't she? ♥"
"I don't need any votes!" said Taiga. "What're you saying, you super
dim Dimhuahua?! Why have I got to do something like that?!"
Taiga's mouth was gleaming from the shiny juice of the mango. She
practically kicked her seat away as she stood up.
"Ohh…" said a classmate, "but I think that's a good idea, too."
"The Tiger really is famous…"
"The Tiger might be the only one in the class who could actually get
votes."
"Sh-shut uuup!" Taiga barked, her voice suddenly larger than anyone
thought her body could hold. The class hesitated and grew quiet for a
moment.
Ami smiled all the more.
"What?" she said. "You. Can't. Do. That. Tiger-chan. As someone
who's a member of the class, you have to go along with events like this and
participate. ♥"
She even gave Taiga an obvious, nearly audible wink—Dink, it
seemed to say—as she added fuel to the fire.
"Dimhuahua, you… If you don't get what I'm telling you, fine! I'll
finish this with my own two hands, and then I'll wipe the cultural festival
and the school—all of it—from existence!"
Taiga easily hoisted her desk above her head so all of the things
inside of it clattered down to the ground. She was poised to hurl it clear
over the teacher's platform. The people in the desk's path towards Ami
screamed as they scrambled away: Kyaah kyaah!
"Well, well, keep it under control!" said Kitamura. "Aisaka, you
might actually win, though. I thought you were a good choice, too."
"Ahh…"
As Kitamura's voice came to her ear, Taiga wilted. The corner of the
desk she was holding fell on the crown of her head with a CLUNK! Due to
the natural consequences of her actions, she collapsed to her knees.
"T-Taiga?! Are you okay?!"
Flustered, Ryuuji went to support the desk, but he was already too
late.
"…Who were you again?"
That matchless klutz, Aisaka Taiga, had been robbed of every single
one of her memories. Whoa, thought Ryuuji, taken aback.
"Then we've decided on Aisaka-san!" As everyone took shelter in a
corner of the classroom, Ami's voice rose behind Ryuuji, and a wave of
applause followed suit.
Incidentally, the spinster (working hard to make it to 31) had already
vanished from the classroom.
Unnoticed, she had written up the formal plan for the exhibition setup
and gone back to the staff room to present it. Of course, the contents of the
plan were "Pro-wrestling show (no kayfabe)." She had even stamped it with
her homeroom teacher seal.
Haruta's shallow slyness in trying to table the exhibition plan was no
match for a spinster with eight years of experience working as a teacher and
twelve years of living alone.