I ran.
I ran for my life. Or, at least, for what I wanted my life to become.
I ran through the early Chiba Saturday morning, through a park and past opening food stalls, merchants nodding and waving. They all know me, after four years of passing them by every day, in every kind of weather. In the beginning, a petite black-haired girl running at sunrise attracted a lot of attention, people wanted to talk, offer me tea or juice. I never stopped, only smiled and waved. You will never reach the finish line if you stop to chat. After four years of running, I still don't know if I am any closer to my goal. But I know that if I stop it will remain forever out of my reach.
As always, I pause in front of the last big shop window, gasping for air, the shirt plastered to my torso. Not much longer to go. His street is just up the hill. I check the reflection again. My body is in perfect form, as perfect as regular running and exercise can make it. I don't really care about looks, mine least of all, and I suspect he doesn't either, but being attractive never hurt anybody's chances, and I swore long ago not to miss a single opportunity. I've been dealt a good hand by genetics, and it would be a shame to waste it. Some things you can improve on, but halfway through the high school I grew terrified of remaining as flat as a Yukinoshita. I even worked part-time, saving money for a boob job, but in the end mother nature delivered, and generously.
I tug at the hem of my shirt once again and continue running.
The old neighbour smiles at me as I pound up the stairs to the apartment and I smile back. Everybody loves a nice, smiling girl. A lesson I learned from Yuigahama.
My hand trembles as I slide the key into the lock. He gave me the key! It has been six months, and still my mind shouts the same thing every morning. Embarrassing.
"Hachiman!" I yell. None of us is allowed to call him that but me.
"Wake up, you lazy slob! There is a whole world out there waiting to be seized!" I start making tea while he rustles in his room. The door opens behind me. "Rumi, you damned brat," I hear, and, through all defences carefully constructed over the years, something in me sings.
"I finished Alexievich's book last night. Usually, Nobel Prize winners are not my cup of tea," I say and he sniggers softly, forcing me to hide my grin, "but she was superb. The down-to-earth realism was really unexpected."
"Told you," Hachiman says smugly, and I turn to give him his cup. His eyes skip away from my torso expertly, while I smoothly avoid his gaze. We are both veterans at this game.
Hachiman hasn't changed at all since the first time I saw him in that stupid camp. Or, more likely, the first impression has merged with years of watching him into this picture firmly rooted in my mind. I can't even say whether it resembles the real Hachiman anymore.
He sips tea in his rumpled pyjamas while I update him on Service Club cases. The club numbers eight of us now, and there is so much work that I simply have to consult Hachiman every morning.
"You know that you are no longer the Service Club president," he says, his voice uncommonly gentle. "You are a university student now".
"I know, I know, I am not decrepit yet, like some harem pashas I could name," I shoot back. His smile stops well below his eyes. I put my feet up on his table and wait for the familiar flicker of annoyance. It comes, but it is barely noticeable. He is getting used to our dynamics, getting used to me, and I know I don't have much time before we settle in into just another of his twisted, familiar relationships.
"When are they coming?" Poking fun at them this way is cruel, like teasing a cripple, but it is how I show that I am not one of the three ensnared beauties. That I am not a competition.
"Yukinoshita and Yuigahama at ten, Miura has some meetings and will come later." Yukinoshita is always first in his mind. I wonder whether he notices that.
It is a strange ecosystem. It always was but has grown creepier over time. Those three have been orbiting Hachiman like some strange moons for six years now. Never quite touching, never quite leaving, always in his gravitational field. It was four of them in the beginning, but Isshiki managed to escape. Took her three attempts and something very close to a nervous breakdown before she succeeded. At least I think she made it. She never writes or calls.
The remaining three have everything. Successful, beautiful, bright young women, independent and determined, poster children for the Japanese education system. They share a genuine friendship, among themselves and with Hachiman, that very few people find in their lives. They all have good, rewarding jobs and are climbing the corporate ladder quickly.
All three are also obsessed with the same guy to the point where none of them have ever had a meaningful relationship. They are very popular, guys try to approach them all the time, but it never works out. Yuigahama is the boldest, she occasionally even entertains the idea of dating somebody, but always succumbs to the same crippling fear that grips the other two. The fear that they would lose their place in this weird, endless beauty contest with a single jury member. That Hachiman will finally make his move, and they won't be there to at least have a chance. In the meantime, they watch each other like hawks.
It is not easy for him, either. All his free time is monopolised by the three friends, and they are a terrifying obstacle for every new girl that tries to approach him. Yukinoshita's haughty barbs, in particular, have driven away in tears more than one aspirant. The only way a girl might get close to him is if she was not perceived as a rival. If, say, she was a much younger schoolgirl just looking for his advice and support, never showing the tiniest bit of affection.
Sometimes you can almost see the pent-up tension between them, emotional and sexual. Four young people in their early twenties living like monks is just not natural. Even I am feeling frustrated, and I am two years behind them in the whole "grit your teeth and bear it just a bit longer" business. I suspect that all of them have found ways to relieve at least a part of the tension on their own. Hachiman, at least, has an impressive hentai collection stashed away far from my prying eyes.
The whole setup seems like an excellent way to make everybody perfectly miserable and ultimately ruin their lives, but there is a solid core of logic in it. Hachiman, when you scratch his thin layer of cynicism, is a decent human being, selfless and committed, something you rarely see these days. Falling in love with somebody like that, strong and vulnerable and in obvious need of your help, is easy. I should know.
Hachiman also saved them all. He saved Yukinoshita from her loneliness and the clutches of her family, he saved Yuigahama from her empty life of a social clique hanger-on. Miura rarely speaks about it, but at some point during her first year at the university he saved her, too, from wasting her life on Hayama. And he keeps saving them, is always there to catch them if they fall. Having somebody like that in your life is a tremendous comfort.
Most importantly, Hachiman is just the perfect boyfriend material. Being with somebody that supportive, considerate, loyal and fun is every girl's dream of what a long-term relationship should look like. If you add the fact that all three are head over heels in love with him, it is no wonder that they are willing to wait for their chance at the closest thing the real-life gets to happily ever after.
I know I am no better than them. If anything, I am worse. At least lying to myself has never be one of my many faults. Instead of accepting that my early infatuation with Hachiman was just an impossible dream I allowed it to grow into a full-blown obsession. For years I used these repressed feelings to fuel an enormous effort, to read, exercise, train, discuss and model both my body and my mind into something that would be interesting and attractive to a single boy. I know it is not healthy, it is not ethical. It is far from what Hachiman would call 'genuine'. I don't even know whether I am a real Rumi anymore or just a persona I constructed out of his dreams that I was allowed to glimpse.
But I don't care anymore. I have been playing the role of an uninterested, sarcastic kid-sister for far too long to turn back now. The pressure is building up, and I know I can't continue to pretend for much longer. Fortunately, I don't have to. I am a university student, not a high-school brat anymore, and I can make my move. Hesitating now will only make me the fourth member of the group of ever-hopeful spinsters.
The only advantage I have over the other three is a ruthless will to act on my feelings.
"Rumi, could you pick up my books from the university library and drop them off here tonight?" Hachiman asks, looking past me through the window. Lately, we have been avoiding looking at each other even more than usual.
"No can do, old man. Busy tonight." I reply offhandedly.
"You? Busy?" He takes another sip of tea.
Perfect timing.
"Yeah. I have a date." I turn away so he can't see my smile while he coughs and splutters.