During Volume 12 Chapter 6
The promotional video was a resounding success. Online discussions were set ablaze. Countless posts were exchanged over LINE. Not only did the people who participated in the shoot share their own reactions online, they, themselves, uploaded their own photos of the event. There was no sign of hesitation or uncertainty among the student body. Everyone now had a good idea of what our prom could be like, and the excitement was rising.
We were busy in the student council office. Hikigaya and Yuigahama had once again dropped by to lend us a hand. One of the tasks on hand was picking out good photos to be used as promotional material.
Yuigahama was hard at work picking out just the right photos. She was looking over printouts of them and marking the good ones.
Hikigaya had a refreshed expression. The video had an effect even on him.
"Thanks to the movie shooting experience, I can somewhat understand it better now," he thoughtfully spoke, "The way I'm going to say this may sound bad, but I don't consider holding a prom to be as much of a trouble as I thought before. Don't you think the people who've watched the introductory video would think the same way?"
There was meaning in our efforts. There were certain things that could only be understood when your own hands were involved. The easy route of grabbing existing stock photos would not have achieved the same effect.
"Using a video that we shot ourselves indeed makes it easier for people to understand and imagine what a prom is like, since there are people that you are familiar with in it," I spoke to Hikigaya.
By taking place on familiar ground, with familiar customs and with familiar faces (albeit, thanks to the editing, only familiar to close friends), we've managed to not just transplant but translate a foreign event into an event that we could call ours. It was a triumphant victory for us. I could not help straightening my back in pride.
Hikigaya broke into laughter, clearly amused at how smoothly he accepted things. Although, for some reason, he was looking right at my face while doing so.
Beaming, Isshiki showed Hikigaya her phone, with the LINE app open.
"Not only you, Senpai, but the students who came to the photo shoot also had quite a good impression of the prom. The LINE feed is pretty much exploding too. Look."
Hikigaya widened his eyes in surprise. Isshiki reacted with a grin.
I switched to the LINE application on my laptop. As I scrolled through the posts, even without seeing statistics, I could tell that the number of posts about the prom was growing exponentially. There was much more activity now than just three hours ago.
Yuigahama lifted her head and glanced at Isshiki's phone.
"Ahhh, I saw those too. There are those kinds of people who upload a lot," she mentioned.
Yuigahama was right on the money. We attracted the right kind of demographic.
Though her remark was casual and she may not have thought much of it, Yuigahama was instinctively aware of the existence of voluntary brand ambassadors. When an organization or brand has a large following on social media, their followers begin to hold much loyalty and goodwill toward the organization, deriving not just satisfaction from utilizing the brand's products but also developing a deeper, emotional connection. Coincidentally, when such folk were also content creators, your organization has earned itself free advertisement.
"If we consider these reactions as secondary promotions, then all the costs that we have put in so far can be justified," I spoke.
As was reiterated over and over, our costs were mind-numbingly large for the amount of budget we had. Yet, even when steeped so far in the black, the black did not stretch endlessly to the horizon. There was solid ground. We now had an unstoppable momentum.
"Hmm, so something like this?" spoke Yuigahama.
Yuigahama seemed to have finish choosing photos to be used in our promotions. She passed the sheets back to Isshiki.
I took a look at the photos on the top of the pile. All of the boys were dressed in suits, tailcoats and the like. Though it all seemed to be the same kind of style (a consequence of men's formal wear), they all looked fantastic, holding an air of maturity that they did not exhibit in their day-to-day clothes. As for the girls, they were fortunate enough to have more freedom in their dressing code. Their dresses ranged from rather cutesy to downright glamorous. The ones that Yuigahama circled were, of course, the most eye-popping ones, given our purpose. Their boldness stood out from the rest.
"Thank you very much," gratefully spoke Isshiki, "I'll make a special page for it on the website right away, okay?"
After saying that, Isshiki retreated to her desk and began operating her laptop.
I could not help but chuckle a little. Isshiki was sounding a like a marketing manager. She even casually spoke about creating a webpage, something that can still intimidate the average person. I observed Isshiki navigate through a graphical, web browser-based tool, without touching a single line of raw markup language. Some things, even if they were significant in depth, were more straightforward than one would think, with the greatest barrier being purpose and courage. Indeed, with the right kind of push, perhaps even some small, unknown club consisting of a couple nondescript members could come up with their own ground-breaking, attention-grabbing website.
Aside from the promotional activity, other efforts, such as planning the actual event, were also running along smoothly, bolstered by the video shoot's momentum. The other members of the student council kept themselves busy, this time finding motivation by excitedly chatting with each other about the prom. Every single gear was turning.
I turned to Hikigaya and Yuigahama, who were looking at me somewhat expectantly. I could feel their eagerness to work, but they needn't burden themselves any longer.
"Thanks. Sorry for making you two come here to help me out," I gratefully spoke, "Everything is well now."
I bowed my head in appreciation.
"…Eh, is that everything?" asked Hikigaya in surprise.
I responded, "Yes, I think so… The student council is producing what is needed. I don't believe we need any help from the others at the moment, right?"
Midway through, I turned to Isshiki, seeking her confirmation.
"Eh? If Yukino-senpai thinks so, well then, yes," she replied in bewilderment.
I nodded my head. Isshiki began checking various things to get a status update on our current progress, but she didn't seem excessively worried.
"If we are short on people and reach the end of our rope, we may ask you two for help again," I surmised, "I'll call you two out then."
Hikigaya appeared a discontent but slowly voiced his acceptance. By contrast, Yuigahama bolted up from her chair.
"Sure, I see. Thanks for all your hard work, too! Do your best, okay?" encouraged Yuigahama, "If there's anything we can do to help, just call us out."
She eagerly packed her bag and slung it across her shoulder.
It was clear to anyone that she was not rejoicing at being freed from work. After all, she readily agreed to help us out in the first place. Rather, she was, even now, respecting my wishes. The fact that everything went smoothly helped her to feel more at ease with letting me handle this on my own.
"Come on, Hikki, let's go."
Yuigahama urged Hikigaya to stand as well. Reluctantly, he stood up from his chair.
Looking at me, Hikigaya nodded slightly. As usual, his mouth was straightened, showing a little less emotion than would be appropriate. Of course, the three of us knew that his stoic face was purely from awkwardness. If he could smile a little better (not the disgusting kind when talking about his favourite coffee), his complexion could be significantly improved.
"Then, see you," he curtly spoke.
"Yes, thanks for your work," I said in appreciation.
"Thanks for coming~!" said Isshiki with a wave.
The two of them gave us one final wave as well. Then, with Yuigahama eagerly stringing along Hikigaya, the two of them left together.
That was a good thing, I thought. Yuigahama having the time to do what she wanted to do was a nice thing. Hikigaya having free time was a given. Nothing interfered with the two of them now.
I sighed. I felt a little downtrodden, perhaps from anticipating the incoming work. I intended to dive in, of course, but I hoped that my weary, stamina-less bones could handle it.
As Isshiki was putting the finishing touches on the promotional website, I quickly examined its main pages. Fancy photos neatly aligned the pages, sometimes along the panes and sometimes down the body of the page. A few words of description accompanied the images, but Isshiki let the photos speak for themselves. She had a real knack for aesthetics.
I needed to thank Yuigahama for helping us pick the photos. Even though I was involved in the production of these shots, my eyes were glued to the screen. As I've observed before, the choice of dresses could be quite bold. However, it wasn't just the clothing. Some of the girls were leaning quite closely to their partners, and faces inches apart. There was definitely more of an amorous aspect than I had expected.
I considered, for a moment, whether this was too risqué. However, I pushed that thought out from my mind. It was too late to rescind our promotional material, and it was achieving what we needed. Our sole audience — the student body — was receiving it with fanfare. Besides, what we advertised did not have to one-hundred-percent match the real thing. We could always ask participants to tone things down later on.
We had much more important things to worry about. We had to order food, purchase decorations, plan the music, worry about the clean up, buy some more things, fear for unexpected expenses, et cetera.
"Well, Yukino-senpai, how does it look?"
Before I could notice, Isshiki was standing behind my chair, peering over my shoulder. Her flaxen hair tickled my ear, and I would collide with her face if I shifted a bit. Even so, without looking at her directly, I could tell that she was sparkling with confidence.
"There's nothing wrong with it, from what I can see," I replied, "We can consider the marketing a closed case."
The next day's classes effortlessly passed by. It would not be an exaggeration to say that I was in a jovial mood. There mere happenstance of stars aligning was more than enough to brighten anyone's day. After all, it didn't take a pessimist to realize that the chances of things perfectly falling to place was vanishingly low. There would usually be unsurmountable roadblocks in place that would put us in dilemmic positions of compromise. That cruel reality had been all the more apparent to me over the past year. How many times were we one-hundred-percent satisfied, with no regrets?
Inside the student council room, I continued to toil away, hammering out the last bit of work to bring the prom to fruition. Beside me, Isshiki was humming a simple, yet joyous tune as she tapped away on her keyboard.
Suddenly, hauntingly loud blasts shook the sound space and rattled the door. More accurately, someone was rapping the other side of the door very violently. I could guess who was on the other side, and I supposed that such barbarisms were an improvement from not knocking at all.
Without waiting for anyone in the room to open it, the door was thrust open. The sheet of paper that the secretary was writing on comically blew off her desk and into her face.
A tall, well-proportioned lady swiftly crossed the floor to where Isshiki and I were sitting. Her luscious black hair was long enough bounce against her back as she speed-walked. While objectively attractive, one's appearance was but one factor in one's overall likeability. Unfortunately, this lady in question had numerous fatal flaws, her rambunctious tendencies being one of them.
This lady in question was the modern Japanese teacher Hiratsuka Shizuka.
"Good afternoon, you two," she greeted.
Isshiki and I returned greetings of our own. We were bewildered. We have met with several teachers, Hiratsuka-sensei being one of them, to get permission to hold the prom and to chip away at some technical issues. However, for a teacher to come of her own accord to the student council room was highly unusual.
Hiratsuka-sensei was also my club advisor. While she was highly involved in the beginning period of the Service Club, where she would prepare things for us to do, she had, in the recent months, been taking more of a hands-off approach. Requests started to come in on their own, without her intervention. As an analogy, it was as if her role had been relegated to a manga protagonist's best friend.
However, the Hiratsuka Shizuka in front of us today seemed to not be showing any restraint. Rather, demeanor was grave, and she seemed thoroughly serious. Looking at us, she even held a hint of worry.
"Something has come up. Sorry, but I need you two to come with me for a moment," she spoke.
"Certainly, but may I ask for the reason?" I said as I tilted my head in confusion.
She crossed her arms under her well-endowed chest and spoke, "There's a problem. A pretty big one. It could be pretty disastrous, actually."
"Please don't beat around the bush," I said without hesitation, "We've got little time as it is. Let's hear about it so we can get it over with quickly."
In agreement, Isshiki vigorously nodded her head.
Hiratsuka-sensei sighed.
"I've seen the positive reactions to your prom among the students, and it's getting wildly popular. Though, it seems that you guys have also attracted the attention of some important busybodies," she replied.
Then, Hiratsuka-sensei turned her eyes directly towards me.
"The Parent-Teacher Association have some concerns. They've sent a representative to talk to you about it. Yukinoshita, it's your mother."
Hiratsuka-sensei led Isshiki and me to the school's guest room. It was certainly not a room that I visit very often. I've probably visited the principal's office more often than the guest room, to claim accolades and such.
Beside me, Isshiki gasped in astonishment.
True to our teacher's words, my yukata-clad mother was sitting on a sofa. Her perfected posture, coupled with an air of grace, brought the very definition of beauty to my mind, even though she was the usual family. Yet, every rose had its thorns. As overwhelming as her beauty was, she imposed on me the overwhelming battle-presence of a Valkyrie.
When we entered the room, my mother gave me a picture-perfect smile. Yet, fondness was but a mere fraction of its figure. Much more than that, her smile was professional. It was businesslike and formal. Though that in itself was more familiar than foreign, it was usually directed to someone else. Today, that someone was myself.
"Good afternoon, Yukino," my mother greeted.
However, my mother was not the only person here to meet with us. Sitting beside my mother was, unexpectedly, my sister Haruno. She made herself comfortable in the sofa, though still well within the constraints of formality. She had no choice, after all, with my mother being present. With my mother's attention being temporarily held by me, my sister gave me a slightly mischievous smile.
My mother and my sister — the two of them had undoubtedly high profiles. By seeing the two of them in person, present within our very school, I realized that situation was dire.
Isshiki was stunned. Blood drained from her face. She was acquainted with my sister but not at all with my mother. Even so, it only took a glance of my mother to tell that we were facing a Goliath.
"Y-You would like to speak with us regarding the prom, yes?" quickly shot out Isshiki, "Th-This really isn't all of us, so I'll get the rest of the people here who are involved."
Isshiki bowed. Then, she turned around and made a mad dash out the door and down the corridor.
I had no doubt that she was going to seek out Yuigahama and Hikigaya. She made the correct decision. In the current situation, it was best that we make the strongest moves right away.
I knew that now was not the time to be picky and to try to get by without their help. Yet, to immediately come to that conclusion in a situation like this, I truly was pitiful.
My mother had only looked briefly at Isshiki before she went tumbling out the room. Then, she returned her eyes to me.
"Why don't I start by sharing my views with you, Yukino?" she suggested.
"Certainly," I replied.
I deftly made my way to a sofa. As I seated myself, Hiratsuka-sensei did so as well, next to me. In front of me, across a short distance, was my mother. My sister, still acting well-behaved, shot me a curious gaze.
It was incredulous. The one whom I was about to confront was my own parent. A person of such a role should have been the one sitting beside me, not standing against me. Yet, the one next to me now was Hiratsuka Shizuka.
"Yukino, I see that you are holding a prom for the graduates," my mother started, "So that's why you have been coming home late everyday. Truthfully, I was getting worried."
Her smile was kind for a transient moment. Yet, her words of neither praise nor admonishment was merely a tactic. It was somewhat like the foot-in-the-door technique, saying something easily digested at first in order to ease me in.
True to that tactic, her tone soon became businesslike.
"However, there have been concerns among the parents after seeing the promotional material. They said that the photos did not seem to be very wholesome. They were worried that it didn't quite align with what was expected of high school students. I need not describe them for you, no? I'm sure you know what I'm talking about."
My mother placed a hand on her cheek, feigning bashfulness.
I thought back to the video shoot. I re-scrutinized the details that I took for granted.
The lack of wholesomeness of the prom — that was something that I had not considered in full. Yet, thinking back, there were numerous shots that didn't take a prude's mindset to be eyebrow-raising.
Dresses with deeply revealing front cut. Close mingling between the opposite sexes. The party.
I had thought all of that as a normal part of a prom. However, that was from the perspective of a student. I had not considered what the parents thought of it. If I was a parent, would I truly be comfortable sending my daughter out to go to a party while she wore a revealing dress?
"Because of that, members of the PTA would like to see the prom cancelled," my mother gravely spoke.
I could not hide my surprise. My knees trembled uncontrollably. Without any prompting, we have already plunged into the worst-case scenario.
In an area where my eyes did not see, the situation had already deteriorated to a point where the very existence of our event was being threatened. A veil was cast over me while I had my head down, and I did not even notice its shadow.
We were interrupted by the opening of the door. Isshiki, Yuigahama and Hikigaya entered the room. Isshiki had moved quite quickly, but that was expected, given the situation. When Yuigahama and Hikigaya spotted my mother, their eyes widened in utter shock.
"Sorry for keeping you all waiting here," spoke Isshiki, "All of us here are the ones who have discussed about it and decided to hold the prom… Therefore, please let us all join the debate on the practicality of the event."
Isshiki bowed respectfully, but her tone of voice was not submissive. Her attitude was entirely confrontational. She was preparing herself to defend the integrity of our event.
Before speaking, my mother heartily laughed.
"'Debate' is such an overstatement, and it's not like that, dear," she said, "I came here only to share my views and suggestions with everyone."
Ordinarily, such words would have been taken as an invitation to a friendly discussion. Yet, coming from my mother, it was more likely that she was saying that with the polar opposite reason. It was likely her intention to impose upon us her will without letting us debate at all.
Even so, Isshiki did not shy away.
Hiratsuka-sensei stood up from the couch to let Isshiki and Yuigahama set. They obliged, sitting on either side of me. With a little awkwardness, Hikigaya pulled up a cushioned stool and sat in front of the coffee table, perpendicular to me. Hiratsuka-sensei remained standing.
"…Well then, let us hear your views once more," I requested.
My mother nodded. She repeated what she had spoken to me for the sake of the newcomers. She explained again the worries of the PTA and the threat of cancellation.
When she finished, she turned her gaze over to my older sister, seeking her opinion. My sister sighed in exasperation.
"There are, well, both positive and negative opinions among the alumni. Well, it's not like there were a lot of negative opinions, though," she provocatively spoke.
My mother admonished her, "Just because only a minority held negative opinions doesn't mean that we could just ignore them! If there are people who dislike it, then we should take them into consideration."
In response, or lack thereof, my sister silently sipped some coffee, speaking with inaction. It was supposed to appear like she was quietly pondering my mother's words. Of course, as family members, both my mother and I knew that my sister was more likely to be letting words that she didn't find interesting freely exit her other ear.
"…So, why are you the person that came, Mother?" I asked.
"Partly because I am a member of the PTA… Also, since it was a request from your father's acquaintance, I cannot treat it lightly… you do understand that, right?" she replied.
I squeezed the hem of my skirt tightly.
"Acquaintance" was a euphemism. Given my father's line of work and given the current situation, it was not likely that this person, who had complaints about our prom, was a close friend of his. More likely, this person may hold some sort of political sway, whether as an enemy or an ally, such that it would be perilous for my father to ignore their request. In other words, it would be damaging to his reputation to not follow through.
"Of course, I wouldn't mind if you would carry out the event with moderation and temperance."
After saying that, my mother shook her head. While she was still smiling professionally, her eyes narrowed with a sharp glint.
"Given the number of concerns, the PTA began doing their research about proms. According to that research, proms are associated with problems like drinking alcohol and impropriety between the sexes."
I recalled the prom movie shown to us by Isshiki, at the very beginning. It was a given that a fictional world could contain subject matter that was not entirely appropriate. However, what my mother spoke of was possible not just in the movie but in real life as well.
I bit my lower lip. We could argue that we have been trying our best to transfer, from overseas, only what made sense to us Japanese students, excluding those kinds of problem. However, there was no guarantee that an event involving a party would not give rise to those problems.
"If any problems occur, I suppose that you all would not be able to bear the responsibility, right?" my mother warned.
"Even so, such problems could be prevented if the PTA and the school cooperate with one another," I retorted, "Also, didn't we receive informal consent from the school already…?"
I did not remember a time where Isshiki and I directly asked a teacher whether or not we could hold the prom. However, the teachers were more than willing to give us advice regarding the prom, implicating that we had their go-ahead. As for the PTA, we did directly ask them, and we had quickly received consent during that time.
My mother responded, "The PTA believed that they were deciding too hastily. But, wasn't that implicit consent made at a stage where they were only reading the draft documents you prepared for them? We reserve the right to defer the definitive decision until we see the finalized plan…"
Isshiki brashly cut in, "That doesn't make sense. We asked for consent from the PTA in advance because we wanted to make sure that the PTA doesn't reverse its course later on. I mean, isn't it the parents' job to discipline their children in order to prevent those problems from happening?"
Isshiki's voice progressively grew louder and louder the more she spoke, to the point where it was beginning to sound like shouts.
"Isshiki!" exclaimed Hiratsuka-sensei.
Her aggressive demeanor turned into a surprised one as she realized how inappropriately aggressive that she had become.
"…I'm sorry," she sullenly spoke.
In spite of her apology, she did not take back her words. She was pouting. It was clear that her apology was only with regards to the rudeness itself.
Seeing that spectacle, the only person in the room to softly chuckle was my older sister. With her twisted sense of humour, she could not hold back her amusement, even when beside my mother.
Hiratsuka-sensei wordlessly extended an apology by lowering her head toward my mother. My mother shook her head and continued speaking, seeming unaffected. On the contrary, my mother seemed almost happy, as if she had found fresh prey. That part of my mother was, perhaps, what my older sister gleaned from her.
"Of course, I believe that all the parents have considered various measures. It's not like the parents want to ban or restrict everything. It's just that we are worried for you, after all, especially about those Internet witch hunts that can flare up on SNS," she replied.
My mother went on explaining about the consequences of falling victim to online witch hunts. According to her, reputation could be irreparably damaged. What we were doing was flashy enough to attract that kind of attention. Contrary to her traditional style of dress, my mother was quite familiar with such electronic slugfests, something that had only arisen in the past decade. She even went as far as advocating for educating about the dangers of these kinds of cutting-edge technologies.
However, she surmised that the domain of witch hunting was not exclusive to younger folk.
She spoke with a heavy voice, "Even adults, who are supposed to have better judgement, may still instigate Internet witch hunts, after all."
Such words were not a surprise to any of us. Social media, still as old as a teenager, was fickly utilized by people young or old. High school students, journalists, politicians and any other kind of person were free to participate in the witch hunts or to fall to one themselves.
If even supposedly matured adults could fall prey, how much more vulnerable were a bunch of teenagers? Those were the unspoken words. In actuality, we were already victims of adults who took action because of what we posted on social media.
No.
I forced myself to stop thinking about that subject. I shook my head, clearing my mind.
It was a trap that my mother had laid. I was about to descend a rabbit hole lined with red herrings. Falling victim to a witch hunt was serious, but it was not something that we could fully control, not when every little thing we post could be scrutinized by every kind of highly-opinionated persons. To put it another way, there was no use worrying about the possibility of being killed by a falling meteor or being robbed while walking to the train station — things that were out of our control. What we could control — and what was actually relevant to our discussion — was how the prom would proceed.
"…Talking about possibilities brings us nowhere," I muttered.
Close to me, Hikigaya nodded his head in agreement.
My mother smiled with a little bit of satisfaction. I had, at the very least, avoided disappointing her by avoiding that trap.
"But there are vocal detractors, after all. So, I believe that there is no need to force yourself to hold the prom. Otherwise, people will talk and point fingers at you behind your back and ultimately spoil all your effort working towards graduation and your life afterwards," she cautioned us.
She slightly hung her shoulders without ruining her posture, showing us some frailty. She appeared to be concerned about holding the prom with respect to our wellbeing. However, none of us were particularly swayed. The entire premise of the Service Club was to help others out and occasionally aid with large events involving scores of people. We were not afraid of our actions of aid biting us back later; we had laid out too many thumbtacks on the ground to bother avoiding them all at this point.
For example, there was a possibility that our actions could have ruined an elementary school child's upbringing.
For example, there was a possibility that a certain former chairperson would never help hold a large event ever again.
The only thing we could do was hold our heads high and try to resolve the situation with what we had.
My mother turned to my older sister.
"Yes, the graduation party is not only for the sake of the alumni but also for the parents, teachers and even the local folks alike…. With regard to all of the past parties up until now, there wasn't any particular dissatisfaction, right?"
Effortlessly leaving behind the emotional appeal, she turned to a more objective analysis.
My sister aimed her pupils toward the ceiling for a moment, thinking about something. Then, as if not being able to think of any clever words to say, she merely shook her head.
I immediately opened my mouth to protest. However, nothing came out.
Like delayed pains, it took me a few moments to realize that we had suffered a fatal blow.
My mother had attacked the very foundation of our actions. She had taken aim at the one thing that was the most difficult to answer for any situation but especially of ours — our purpose.
Going back to the premise of our club, we existed to help others. However, our efforts so far were a significant deviation from that. As confirmed by my older sister, there was never any sort of dissatisfaction to begin with, regarding the graduation activities. In short, my mother was implying that we were trying to fix something that wasn't broken.
The three members of the Service Club — me, Yuigahama, and Hikigaya — sat speechless. However, the single non-member sitting beside me opened her mouth.
"Speaking of alumni, we are future alumni as well," she mentioned, "We have every right to suggest anything with regard to the party. In fact, the prom is receiving a positive response from the current students."
The ambitious Isshiki wrenched a reason up from the depths of her own desires. While the Service Club was not in a position to build and create, Isshiki, the Student Council President, held a role that entailed building and creating. So long as what Isshiki wanted to do was constructive and if she was willing to take responsibility, there wasn't a reason to interfere with her. It was a kind of sophistry where the opposing side would find it more tiresome to get in the way than to stay out of the way.
Isshiki continued, "The views and opinions on the SNS are mostly positive—"
"That may be the case for the SNS," my mother cut in, "However, it is also important to listen to the suggestions that didn't make their way to the surface. Leaders are the ones that are trusted by everyone, and therefore, they should bear such a responsibility on their shoulders."
Stunned, Isshiki fell silent.
Isshiki's own sophistry was used against her. Though a queen had powers to rule, she also had a responsibility to lead and to come up with a compromise for the unsatisfied. By speaking about the negative opinions, my mother had looped the discussion back to the start, erasing any progress we might have achieved.
Yuigahama began shifting around nervously. Though she had not spoken much so far, she was always sensitive to the mood. According to her increasing discomfort, we were surely approaching our wits' end.
We had repeatedly danced around the issue, not daring to say a word about how we could change the prom itself, hoping that my mother would back off. However, that choreography was reaching its abrupt conclusion. Even when we felt like we were making progress, my mother would stubbornly stick to her original views, using whatever means necessary to steer the entire conversation in her favour. Speaking with her was futile, but not speaking would be an admission of loss. We sat silently, feeling an impending defeat creeping upon us.
Looking between my sister and me, she added, "The responsibility of leaders, you two should remember that by heart."
My older sister reacted by looking at my mother briefly. However, she lost interest in just a few seconds, giving the same, fatigued sigh that she released every time similar topics came up.
The true meaning of my mother's sudden advice could only be known by us Yukinoshitas.
Towards my sister Haruno, my mother wished for her to adopt a more ambitious and leader-like attitude, so that she could succeed our line of work.
Towards me, my mother wanted me to see that I lacked what was needed and to abandon any hope.
On our side, after a long while, the first one to open his mouth was Hikigaya.
"But the school gave us informal consent, right?" he asked, "What was their intention?"
His question was directed to the third party in the room, Hiratsuka Shizuka. Everyone turned their eyes toward the teacher in the room. By breaking up the solely bidirectional exchange between our side and my mother, the chill in the room defrosted.
Being handed the baton, Hiratsuka-sensei willingly spoke to us all.
"Personally, I don't want to jump to a cancellation of the event. The school has a tradition of respecting our students' independence and emphasizing self-regulation. In the case that the students' plans have flaws, we should aim to make the appropriate corrections, which requires further discussions and cannot be done without the understanding and cooperation from parents like you. This is my personal opinion."
It was an extraordinary response, much more thorough, ethical and cooperative than anything we have come up with. It confirmed that the school was willing to let us have our way — to provide that implicit consent — so long as we were willing to iron out any issues.
After hearing Hiratsuka-sensei's response, my mother smiled gently and nodded in good humour, her head softly bobbing up and down like a swaying flower.
With Hiratsuka's stance that sought for the best interest of the students while also seeking for the sympathy of the parents (who also wanted nothing more than the best for their children), my mother could say nothing in opposition. It was a win-win situation that we had not thought of and that my mother did not even try to seek.
Facing Hiratsuka-sensei, my mother spoke, "I believe that I have no qualms about your opinions, Sensei. Very well, I shall pay a visit again soon. Next time, can we discuss this matter with the school as well?"
Hiratsuka-sensei replied, "I will tell my superiors about it. I will confirm the schedule and let you know soon."
"I am sorry for having to trouble you. I'll leave it to you…" my mother said as she respectfully bowed.
Then, she turned to my sister.
"Haruno, say your farewells to everyone, and let's leave," she requested.
"Ah, I'll leave after I finish this coffee," my sister defiantly responded.
My sister pointed to her cup on the table. She re-crossed her legs and spread her right arm across the now-emptier sofa. With her other arm, she waved her good-bye at my mother, instead of everyone else. It seemed like she had more business here, but the way that she went about communicating that made her seem like she was lazy or wanted to take advantage of the free refreshments.
Not even my mother could hold back a sigh. However, my sister had left her teenage days by several years now. Though my sister was acting disrespectfully, she had her right to do so, since she was not causing anyone major harm. In other words, for better or for worse, my mother was respecting my sister's age-won autonomy.
"I see. Well then, I'll return now," my mother spoke, with a tinge of exasperation in her voice.
My mother stood up, ready to leave, without my sister. Naturally, my head tilted upward, to follow those movements. One who was sitting would obviously be at a lower height compared to another who was standing. Even so, I could not help but feel excessively small.
"Yukino."
Her serene voice forced my eyes to focus directly on hers. She completely abandoned her businesslike tone from earlier. In its place was the mother's warmth that had been absent the entire time.
"I am aware that you are trying hard and doing your best. However, do come home a little sooner, alright? There is no need for you to force yourself."
Recently, I had returning home so much later that I arrive home even after my mother. The dinner table would already be set, and, if there was a bowl of soup, it would already be lukewarm.
She conveyed her concern. Yet, it wasn't just about pedestrian safety or overworking myself.
Just like how she met me late that night, after holding the Valentine's cooking event, she was worried that I was forgetting my discipline, becoming delinquent.
Because her mind was stone-set on having my sister take over everything, she had no confidence that I could do anything well. Rather, she was worried that I would be crushing my fingers trying to lift a load that I couldn't handle.
What made it worse was that she wasn't being feeling pity or being resentful. There were elements of genuine concern.
"…Yes, I understand."
That motherliness never manifested out of praise for my achievements but out of concern.
I closed my eyes. I wonder if she thought of my closed eyes as defiance. Perhaps I wanted it to mean that. In reality, I was simply fatigued.
A tiny, nearly imperceptible movement of air tickled my cheeks. I instinctively knew, without seeing it, that it was my mother's final courteous bow. Then, I heard footsteps and the door being opened and closed.
When I opened my eyes, my mother was gone. Hiratsuka-sensei was gone as well, likely to see her out.
"Haaa, I'm tired. It's really a nuisance that I was told to accompany her here," said my sister in annoyance.
After irresponsibility voicing that piece of her mind, she took a sip of that coffee she had stayed here to finish. Then, she grimaced. She hastily put the cup down in dissatisfaction, losing the will to finish it. Without a single strand of rising steam, that cup of coffee had already become distastefully lukewarm.
Though my mother had left, none of us could relax thanks to my sister overstaying her welcome.
Scratching the back of his head, Hikigaya asked, "Uhm… she mentioned that she's one of the PTA members. Does that mean that she's a chairperson of some kind?"
"No, no. She holds an honorary post or something that I don't get," my sister explained, "The only thing she has is the title, and her work is just to write authorization papers, as far as I know. However, not only because our father's work has strong connections to this area, but also, this is both of her daughters' high school, right? So, she naturally became the one being asked to come here."
Despite her claiming otherwise, my sister was not ignorant. She had a decent understanding of diplomatic matters.
Scoffing, she continued, "That's why, her intentions and opinions don't matter. Given that she was already asked to do so, she had no choice but to come and at least say something out of formality, right?"
My sister reclined more lazily on the sofa, as if finding her own words boring and long-winded. She had no intention to take any of this seriously — but that in itself could not be blamed. After all, she was not the one holding a prom.
Then, Hiratsuka-sensei came back into the room. She muttered a few choice words of complaints and withdrew a cigarette. Having consideration for her students, she walked over to the open window before lighting it.
I did not doubt that Hiratsuka-sensei when she desired freedom for us. Even from the beginning, when she would drag us into various sorts of problematic situations, she gave us free reign to handle the issues as we saw fit.
I let her have a few puffs of smoke, and perhaps the silent crowd around me afforded her that much as well. Then, I asked her the question that everyone had on their mind — how would the school deal with this situation?
"I can't say anything at this point," she replied. To be honest, with regards to the photos being uploaded throughout the SNS, I don't…. well, my superiors won't see them as that much of a problem. However…"
She explained that the issue was with regards to those who had a louder mouthpiece than others, who enjoyed making various complaints to the school. They would make a big deal out of the whatever small issue that managed to catch their eye. Ordinarily, the school would essentially brush it off by implementing minor corrective actions, but it was a different story if the mouthpieces became loudspeakers.
"At this rate, the school has to deal with it by taking the appropriate actions," she finished with a grim tone.
While not saying anything specific, it was clear that she was referring to taking drastic actions in response to those dramatic voices. In other words, it could be something like cancelling the prom.
Although I would not hold much stock in my own ability to appraise the voices of public forums, I, nonetheless, supposed that such dramatic voices were but the minority of users. While I was scrolling through posts, I did not see enough negative responses to justify action, at the time. However, it did not need to take a large number of posts for something to gain traction. Perhaps those small amounts of posts garnered significant amounts of impressions. Even if they were few in number, if those negative posts grew popular, the school would have no choice but to act, even if the majority approved of it.
"Can't the school plead to the parents?" Hikigaya asked.
Hikigaya's request wasn't unreasonable. If there were just a few complaining parents, the school could deal with them individually.
"It's not like there aren't any ways to do that," she replied, giving neither a yes nor a no.
She extinguished her cigarette by pressing it against an ashtray. With its oxygen snuffed out, it lost its light. Only its smoky stench lingered behind, but even that would soon be taken out through the opened window.
"If you guys are still planning to hold a prom next year, I think it's better for me not to interfere with it," she spoke with a gloomy smile.
Although she seemed to side with us earlier, she suddenly announced her wish to stand back. I looked around in confusion. Everyone else was as stunned as I am — including my older sister.
"Shizuka-chan, you haven't told them yet?" my sister asked in bewilderment.
"It wasn't formally confirmed yet, so obviously I can't tell them."
"You just weren't able to tell them, right?"
"…Uuuh, well…"
Losing her grim expression, our teacher suddenly faced the window, averting her eyes. She let herself hang speechlessly. That awkwardness was a fearsome departure from her previous seriousness.
"Well, since this is a public school, just by looking at how long you've been working here, it shouldn't be hard to tell," my sister surmised.
I wordlessly and rather impolitely gawked at Hiratsuka-sensei for several seconds longer than I should have. However, my sister's words served a suitable lubricant to the rusted gears in my mind.
Puzzle pieces scattered around my various cranial compartments suddenly flew neatly together. Our teacher's recent hands-off policy no longer seemed to be primarily backed by an abstract reason. No, there was an entirely practical reason. As one who always struggled to find the correct words, I could sympathize with her for not mentioning it to us earlier — she simply couldn't.
That realization was felt more in my shaken heart than in my rattled brain. The circumstances were entirely rational, completely probable, yet I was refusing to accept the significant, inevitable change until the feelings coalesced into a concept that I could wrap in words.
Yuigahama started, "Uhm, does that mean…"
…that Hiratsuka-sensei was going to leave the school?
"Well, that story is for later. Let's talk about it next time," interrupted Hiratsuka-sensei, "So… what are you two going to do?"
She was clearly not comfortable with our interrogating stares. Yet, for better or for worse, the matter of the prom was more pertinent at the moment.
With my head still muddied, I brainstormed at the same time that I talked.
"What we are going to do, you ask… we'll first correct the flaws in the plans, and then…"
I stopped myself. Shaking my head, I took back my words.
The things that the parents had found abhorrent were core to the prom. Dancing, flashy dresses, partying and the like were part and parcel of a prom. Removing even a single element would drastically alter the entire fabric of the prom. We had already advertised our prom with those things in prominent view. If we were to change anything in the act of appeasing the parents, we would draw the ire of the students, for false advertisement. Not only would we be putting the cart before the horse, we would be removing the axle from underneath the cart.
Changing the nature of the prom was not an option. It would be a failure in itself.
The only way forward was to change not our prom but the opinions surrounding the prom.
"While the discussions continue, I'll think of a way to gain their understanding…" I muttered.
But that kind of battle was so uphill that I felt faint just imagining what we had to achieve in even less time. There were so many problems regarding that kind of plan that I couldn't even begin to list the most troublesome ones. Yet, there was no path other than this crumbly one.
"Well, I guess you are right," resignedly spoke Hikigaya, "For now, we should gather the materials needed to persuade them, and after that…"
"Wait."
My hand reached out to Hikigaya — but not to seek his support. Rather, I grabbed hold of his sleeve to stop him. He halted his words.
While my mother was here, even while most of us could nary utter a word, it was Hikigaya who tried to nudge the conversation forward. Isshiki had done well to bring him here.
"That is our job…" I murmured.
We should have— No, as her daughter, I should have been the one to stand up to her. It made no sense that an unrelated third party was the first line of defense. It was shameful. Frankly, it was disgusting how I had handled myself.
It should not have fallen apart like this. To make up for this ridiculousness, I had to shoulder it on my own. I had to be able to stand by myself.
"This is what I must do."
"…now is not the time to fuss about it, right?" lightly spoke Hikigaya.
Unintentionally, he leaned closer toward me, with insistence. My fingers were still entwined in the folds of his sleeve. They were dragged and lifted up, against their natural bend, paining them. I bit my lip in physical anguish.
"…Are you going to play the big brother role here?" my sister suddenly spoke.
My sister darkly grinned, painting the air with eeriness. Yet, her strange words resonated uneasily well. Beside me, Isshiki gasped and was staring at her with eyes as wide as saucers.
"Huh? What are you talking about?" angrily spat Hikigaya.
His hands had instantly balled up into fists. Uncharacteristically, he was violently shaken.
In response, my sister cackled in amusement.
"Yukino-chan is saying that she can do it herself, yet you are recklessly lending her a hand. That's not okay," she deviously expressed, "You're not Yukino-chan's big brother, after all."
My sister was enjoying Hikigaya's overreaction, beaming like a little girl, even though my sister herself had clearly gone a step too far herself. She was like a devil, enjoying the act of pulling victims into her own mire.
Realizing how he was behaving, Hikigaya dropped his belligerent attitude and hung his head.
Isshiki let out a sigh, one that seemed simultaneously unbelieving at the ludicrousness of the situation and somehow agreeing with my sister's words. Hikigaya glanced briefly at her, in sullen agony, before lowering his eyes.
Though Yuigahama had been patiently sitting, she could no longer stop an outburst.
"That is… not the case."
Standing up, she confronted my sister with fiery eyes.
"She is such an important person to us. It goes without saying that we'll help her out," she uttered.
I stared at Yuigahama's gallant profile, my eyes blinking rapidly as if tuning down a blinding light. There wasn't a person who wouldn't be touched hearing something like that, especially for me who had so little self-confidence.
However, my sister only sighed with grievance. She shook her head, acting as if Yuigahama had missed her mark.
"If you think she's important to you, then I believe that you should respect her own wishes," she said in disappointment.
My sister repeated what she had said first. Yuigahama was about to retort again, but my sister ignored those attempts and continued speaking.
"If the prom ends up becoming a reality, our mother's recognition of Yukino-chan may change to some extent. Of course, that's only if Yukino-chan did it with her own efforts."
My sister struck at Yuigahama with a threatening, eagle-like glare, causing her to wince. She flashed that same enmity to Hikigaya, who narrowed his eyes in response.
"…If you decide to interfere with that, you do realize the consequences, right?"
Neither Yuigahama nor Hikigaya could respond. Not even Isshiki could sneak a whimsical word in.
Everyone fell silent. The only bare sound was the wind, blowing its soft, mundane breaths through the opened window.
My sister was right. Whether or not my mother intended it, all of this served as a trial. If I could not handle planning a school event, there was not a chance that my mother would trust me with anything grander.
Yuigahama and Hikigaya were aware of my situation. That's why they couldn't say a single thing. Whatever they did could tip the balance. Had I not voiced my concerns to them, perhaps they would have stepped in regardless. But that would be even worse.
In contrast to all of our grave expression, Hiratsuka-sensei stared tenderly at my sister. Without giving reprimand, Hiratsuka-sensei wore a nostalgic caretaker's smile. More than just accepting my sister's words, Hiratsuka-sensei seemed almost relieved.
When my sister noticed that tender gaze, her serious expression was replaced with a troubled look. She took on a bittersweet smile. My sister looked at Yuigahama, Hikigaya and I, one-by-one with a much gentler expression.
"No matter how dearly you think of her, it doesn't necessarily mean that it's right to always lend her a hand…"
She spoke not in scolding but with traces of concern and self-reflection. She gazed upon us as if she was looking at herself. It was a departure from her usual horsing about or even her dark teasing.
But that behaviour was momentary. Her eyes soon regained their sharpness, and she sneered at us like a chameleon. Yukinoshita Haruno was not a person who wallowed in sentiment.
"The relationship that you three have—"
She had a twisted expression. That was because she was about to reveal something sinister.
"—do you know what it is?" she asked of us.
That concept that she was about to put to words, Yuigahama and Hikigaya likely had an inkling about it already. They stiffened their entire bodies, ready to bear the brunt of her next words.
But that was enough.
"Nee-san, stop… I understand."
Yukinoshita Haruno and I were sisters. It was a given that I was able to follow her train of thought to some extent, even if I was nowhere near the superhuman that she was. There was no need for her to say it explicitly and to let her enjoy our reactions of despair.
What my sister was thinking of was definitely the truth. I had no reason to doubt what she was thinking of. It fit us far too well to be called a lie.
—His urge to come to the rescue, no matter how troublesome
—She who acted like our glue, no matter how far apart we fell
—My inability to fulfill any of my wishes; my incompetence
I had a realization.
I wondered what my expression was like. I was smiling, but, at the pit of my stomach, there was a hunger that was insatiable. In the depths of my chest, there was emptiness that threatened to crush itself inwards.
None of this could continue any longer. I had no more choice in the matter.
Thus, I turned not to my sister but to Hikigaya Hachiman.
"I want to prove that I can handle things on my own — with my own ability," I slowly spoke, "So… Hikigaya-kun, I won't be needing your help anymore. I know that this is a very selfish request, and I'm sorry for it, but… please. Let me do it this time."
He widened his eyes. His mouth opened slightly, not in an attempt to say anything, but almost as if he was about to scream. It was as if he was watching a statue crumble before his eyes.
I paused for a moment. I gave myself a second to compose myself. I forcibly plugged up what was about to erupt. If I didn't, I was sure to show something even more unsightly to him. Even so, I fell short. I couldn't stop my voice from quivering and my breath from coming out raggedly.
"Otherwise, I'll soon be ruined. I'll become useless. I knew this all along, that I was depending on you. Not only on you, but on Yuigahama-san as well. Even though I've always told myself not to rely on others, each time I've always ended up doing it anyway."
Yuigahama looked wounded. She was quivering and holding her arm.
"That isn't true," desperately spoke Hikigaya, "That's absolutely wrong."
He breathed heavily. He looked as pale as a ghost.
Shaking my head, I responded, "No, it isn't."
Isshiki gasped. Even though she was not in my field of vision, I could feel her eyes looking shockingly at my face. I was the senpai. I was obligated to be the responsible one for her. The correct decision should have been to take the path with the highest chance of success to fulfill Isshiki's wishes. Even so, that choice could no longer be made.
"It isn't, because the results have always been the same. Even though, every time, I thought that I could do better, in the end, nothing has changed…"
My vision became blurry. Keeping my eyes open, I looked at Hikigaya's hazy figure. His visage, barely distinguishable, was desperately defiant, wanting to deny it all. Even though it was the truth, it pained him as deeply as a fatal wound. That was thanks to the nature of our relationship.
"So, please…"
I pleaded with him repeatedly until I had no words left, until sentences were replaced with my sniffles.
My legs were weak. More than that, they were completely numb. My hands had been pushing down on my thighs until pain passed the threshold to numbness.
Yet, there was clarity. Once there was nothing left, it was easier to see the bottom. A fog was cleared. Something broke and gave way. I even began smiling, the ends of my mouth being hooked upwards by the most absurd eureka.
Gradually, Hikigaya's stiff expression fell apart, becoming loose and depressed. He hung his head, entirely craning his neck. He gave out a sigh, one that seemed to have lifetimes of fatigue behind it. I thought that he wouldn't understand, that he would ignore my words like how we would usually bicker, like a couple of narcissistic buffoons.
"Hikki…"
Saying that softly, Yuigahama reach over and gently tugged on his sleeve. Unlike a certain someone else, she did not do such an act in plead of aid. Rather, Yuigahama faced him with an expression that was full of anguish — but also one that was full of determination. Yuigahama knew me best, perhaps better than I knew myself. I knew that she would make the choice that was best for me.
He stared at her with shaken eyes. He knew that he had to make a decision.
"Aaahh… a-alri— sho… sure…" he murmured.
Toward Yuigahama, he slowly nodded his head.
I smiled, emptily but satisfactorily. That Hikigaya could be convinced by Yuigahama was indeed a good thing.
I was on my own now.
I stood up. Hikigaya glanced up at me, but he made no movements to stop me.
Playtime had long since ceased.
"I'll return to the student council office to think of our next step," I announced.
I silently bid farewell to Hiratsuka-sensei. She watched over me kindly, showing neither pity nor explicit approval. I glanced briefly toward my sister, but it seemed like she didn't have any more interest.
I moved toward the door. Then, I stepped into the corridor and began walking. When I was halfway to the first turn, I heard footsteps behind me. Turning around, I spotted Isshiki trying to catch up to me, nearly out of breath. Inconsiderately, I had almost left her behind. She was quite flustered.
Stopping for a moment, I looked out the hallway's windows. The skies were died dark orange, on the verge of become black. I would not be able to return home early today as well.
The urges that drove the both of us, I wished that it was something else.
Looking back, I had always avoided thinking about it.
At first, I had let things be solved by him, out of reach from my own hands. I felt immense dissatisfaction initially. Yet, that dissatisfaction gradually faded away, replaced by just a slight discontent. I merely thought that everything was a matter of course and let bygones be bygones.
Then, when I needed to stand on my own, I collapsed like a house without foundations. I became lost, like a lamb looking for its shepherd. When he rescued me again — mind and body — I began to desire it.
I had to tried to deny it. With the pieces of hesitation, I would keep silent. With the embers of embarrassment, I would hide my face. Misunderstanding, I even internalized it all, holding the tight pain in my chest, like a martyr.
But there was no genuine evidence. That's how I arrived at the fact that it was a misunderstanding.
I was cleared of that misunderstanding now. I could see at last why he went so far at times, to the point of destroying himself. Destruction of himself was tolerated, so long as he could fill his nearly insatiable hunger. That was what my sister was referring to. He had a longing that could only be fulfilled by intruding on others' lives, even if that meant grasping the steering wheel.
As for me, the talentless one, of course I would reach for that outstretched hand. Of course, I would grasp onto his sleeve and ask him to help me one day, if he let himself be grabbed. I would hardly even care of the consequences. It was a passiveness that went beyond sanity.
His unbecoming urge to get himself involved and to put everything on his shoulders, even if he became a "self" in place of another.
My unbecoming urge to let any and all of my burdens be lifted from my own shoulders, to reduce that "self" to nothingness.
Mindlessly, we marched toward anything but a destination.
We were but fools participating in an illogical comedy.
Our unhealthy relationship could be called nothing else but codependency.