Sorry for the hiatus. With finals I really couldn't afford to designate time to this little project. I've been updating about once a month but I'm going to try for once a week over this break.
Rumi is so, so important. Like she's critical.
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Hayama put Rumi in a tough spot. No matter how she responded to him bad feelings would foster. If she answered him warmly they'd be like 'she's so stuck up.' If she answered him coldly it would be much the same. Sometimes there was no way out.
Without any cards to play Rumi muttered "not particularly. Curry's not my thing." She did so curtly and feigning coolness before slipping away from the spotlight.
A tactical retreat was her only option. A few years ago I wouldn't have seen that but I knew better now. Time had taught me patience. I could act and intervene. I could help Rumi. Just because Hayama couldn't help her didn't mean there was nothing to be done. It was just outside his area of expertise. He didn't get it. Not like I did or Yukinoshita sighing softly beside me.
Rumi stood a metre away from me, stopping right between Yukinoshita and me. She kept enough distance to watch both of us from the corner of her eyes.
Hayama eyed Rumi with a slightly troubled and wistful smile on his face, but soon enough he was back with the other elementary schoolers.
"Okay, guys, you've done all the hard work, so you may as well put in some seasoning now! Anything you want to put in?" he asked. His voice was bright and charming, directing all attention towards himself.
Thanks to him, the resentful glares directed at Rumi came to a sudden halt.
The elementary schoolers raised their hands in chorus, suggesting coffee and capsicum and chocolate and everything in between.
"Yeeeep! I think fruits would be good! Like peaches and stuff!" Oh, by the way, that was Yui just now.
Why the hell was she participating…? As you'd expect, Hayama's expression also stiffened a little. Not only did she participate in a children's game, her utterance clearly displayed that she had the worst cooking skills among them.
Instantly regaining his calm demeanour, Hayama said something. Whatever it was, it made Yuigahama's shoulders droop and she shuffled towards us slowly. Somehow, it seemed he had treated her very gently like a nuisance.
"What an idiot…" I blurted out.
A quiet, whispering voice picked up where I left off. "Honestly, what a bunch of fools…" Tsurumi Rumi said in a voice that sounded cold to my ears.
"Well, the majority of people are like that. Nice you picked up on that quickly," I said. "I think so long as you don't let it blind you that's a good attitude to have."
Rumi looked at me, a puzzled expression on her face. Her gaze was also a measuring one, as if she was appraising my worth, so it left me slightly uncomfortable. I was difficult to judge if I could say so myself. I wasn't all I appeared to be. I was in disguise. A lot of different things went into me and made me who I was. I could be difficult to appraise properly.
Noticing how Rumi was looking at me, Yukinoshita interjected. "You're also part of that majority."
"Oh? And what do I do that's foolish?" I demanded of her.
"You struggle in vain. You beat your head against the wall on the questions which have no answers."
"The questions give life meaning. They give life purpose. It burns." I protested. It indeed burned me. It made me manic across the roof of my skull like I'd just smoked a bowl of weed. It felt good to be terrified. Ants on a page. Shadows on a cave wall. The questions were everything.
Yukinoshita winced. "Is it bad? Does it hurt?"
"It's a nightmare fantasy."
"That didn't answer the question."
"Oh now you have questions?" I shot back.
"Name." Rumi said out of nowhere interrupting us. I shot her a glance and Yukinoshita gave her her iciest glare.
"...introduce yourself before you ask others for their names." Yukinoshita's glare was sharp and full of focus. Like I said. Just because Hayama couldn't help the girl didn't mean there was nothing to be done.
Her eyes must have struck fear in Rumi, because she looked away uncomfortably. "…Tsurumi Rumi."
Although she muttered the words out of the corner of her mouth, it wasn't like you couldn't hear her.
Yukinoshita was of the same mind as me, it seemed. Once she heard Rumi's name, she nodded curtly. "I am Yukinoshita Yukino. That guy is… Hiki… Hikiga… Hikifroggaya‐kun, was it?"
"Hey, how do you know my name from fourth grade? Towards the end, they just called me 'Froggy.'"
At some point, I think they dropped the association with my surname and started treating me as a mere amphibian.
"I'm Hikigaya Hachiman." Since I was gonna become Hikifroggaya‐san at this rate, I introduced myself properly. "And this is Yuigahama Yui." I pointed my finger at Yuigahama, who had now drawn quite close.
"What? You called?" Yuigahama spotted the three of us and seemed to intuit what we were up to. "Oh, right, right. I'm Yuigahama Yui. Tsurumi Rumi‐chan, was it? Nice to meetcha."
But Tsurumi Rumi only mustered a nod at Yuigahama's greeting. She wouldn't meet her eyes. As she looked down at her feet, she spoke up hesitantly. "Somehow , I get the feeling those two are different. Different from those guys."
It was hard to understand her since the subject of her sentence was vague, but she probably meant that the two of us – Yukinoshita and I – were a different type of human being from those guys, i.e. Hayama and his crowd. Which we were. To be completely fair. Yui was different too. But only on a deeper inspection would anything like that turn up.
"I'm different too. From those guys," Rumi said, chewing on her words deliberately as if by stating them aloud she was confirming them to herself.
Yui's face turned grave. "What do you mean by different?"
"Everyone around me is a brat. Well, not like I was any better playing along with them. So I quit all that pointless stuff. I'm better off alone."
"B‐but." Yuigahama seemed lost for words. "I think your elementary school friends and memories are important."
"I don't really need stuff like memories… when I enter middle school, I can make friends with people who come in from other schools." She lifted her head sharply, gazing at the sky.
The sun was finally setting and the sky, indigo blue like diluted ink, was turning black. The stars had started blinking sporadically.
"Sorry to say this, but that's not happening."
The person who uttered that overly blunt assertion was Yukinoshita Yukino.
Rumi stared at her resentfully.
Yukinoshita met her gaze directly. "The people you go to elementary school with now will progress to the same middle school as you. In that case, history will only repeat itself," she declared coldly, not mincing any words. "Next time, those 'people who come in from other schools' will merely join in."
For those who graduated from a local public elementary school to a public middle school, the relationships they'd established until then would perpetuate themselves.
You had to start with all the baggage you accumulated from elementary school. Even if you were to make new friends, your debts from the past would get in the way. Your past would be shared around mercilessly, taking the form of funny stories and in‐jokes.
Once you were reduced to a handy communication tool for those boys and girls, you were finished. Nobody said anything. I was unable to form a rebuttal.
Not only did I have no objections, Yuigahama also kept silent in discomfort. But even Rumi had nothing to say, not a single thing.
"You know that much, don't you?" Yukinoshita said, as if delivering the final blow.
Then, as she peered at the silent Rumi, she pursed her lips tightly, as if trying to withstand something. Maybe, just maybe, Yukinoshita could make out the face of her past in the girl in front of her.
"I knew it…" A small, resigned whisper slipped out of Rumi's mouth. "I was doing really dumb things," she muttered with self‐derision.
"What happened?" Yui asked gently.
"People got shunned by the group a bunch of times… but it stopped eventually and we talked to them again after that – it was something like a fad. Someone always suggested it and everyone would end up going along with it." Rumi spoke coolly, but I got goosebumps listening to what she said. What was up with this story? It was scary as hell. "Then, one of the popular and pretty talkative girls got shunned, and I kept my distance from her too, but… but before I knew it, I was next. It's not like I did anything wrong."
I'm sure it seemed like a good idea at the time. No, it's not like the people doing it had a clear reason in mind. They just had this strange feeling of obligation, like they had to do it.
"It's 'cos I blurted a lot of stuff to that girl, you see."
I stared at her for a long time. I had to cut in. "There's no way out. No easy path. But if you define yourself relative to others then you have nothing. Surely you know that too."
She bobbed her head and cried nearly silent tears.
"One day, if you let yourself be close to someone again, it can happen. You can have friends again. But I won't lie to you. That's some hard bullshit right there."
"I wonder if… this'll happen in middle school too," Rumi sobbed, her voice shaking.
"It will," I pounded. "You'll be alone. But that's not such a bad thing. It doesn't have to be. Not if you are able to keep yourself company."
"How?"
"Books are a good way to start," Yukinoshita stepped in for me before I could answer. I bobbed my head in mild agreement. That was true enough. It would never quite fill the gap of a friend but a book was nice.
"No! You need friends!" Yui exclaimed.
"Not everyone is you, Yui. Not everyone can be like that. It doesn't happen to everyone," I denied.
Yui's lip trembled. She was ever the empath and Rumi crying was enough to bring her to tears. Yukinoshita remained solid beside me.
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A spoon hit the tableware with a clang.
Once we finished watching Rumi return silently to her group, a half‐resigned expression plastered on her face, we immediately went back to our own base camp.
The potatoes in the curry Hiratsuka‐sensei had kept watch over had blended together very nicely, and an appetising scent wafted from our outdoor cooking materials.
Close to the kitchen stood a wooden kitchen table filled with dishes, along with a pair of benches. We started looking for a place to sit.
Yukinoshita was the first one to sit down. She grabbed the corner seat without any hesitation. Next was Komachi. Naturally, she sat down next to Yukinoshita, with Yuigahama following in suit. Then came Ebina‐san, surprisingly enough, while Miura sat down at the opposite corner. I thought Miura would have wanted to sit in the middle, but that wasn't happening, huh.
The guys chose their spots afterwards. Tobe parked himself in front of Miura. Well, that guy did seem as if he looked out for her.
Next to him sat Hayama. Since I'd be sitting next to people I didn't mind either way, my plan was to wait until everyone else made their choices. Come to think of it, whenever these group‐picking things happened, I'd always wait till last. You know what I'm like. I'm a big‐hearted man who gives up my turn out of the generosity in my soul.
It looked like whoever sat next to Hayama would be me, Totsuka or Hiratsuka‐ sensei.
"Um…" Saika looked at Hiratsuka‐sensei and I, appearing deep in thought about how to make his move.
"H‐Hachiman, where would you like to sit?"
"Wherever is fine. I'm waiting till last."
"Saving the best till last – that kind of thing?" asked Saika.
"Er, not really…"
It was really just a matter of circumstances outside of my control creeping up on me, nothing at all to do with free thought or a personal creed.
"Saving the best till last… I see! I see now. I see how it is… I see that's how it must be," Hiratsuka‐sensei muttered under her breath, her expression stricken as if she had just received a divine revelation. She was reacting way too sensitively to the word 'last'… someone please take her, for God's sake.
"Meh, I'll sit wherever…" I said. "Where are you sitting, Saika?"
"I don't mind sitting next to you." I was speechless. Saika had just said something unbelievably ludicrous, so it took me a while to react. Saika pressed a hand against his mouth as if he had also realised the implication of what he had just blurted out. "Th‐that came out kinda weird. I mean, we were busy with preparing the lunches and talking to the kids, so we never really got a chance to talk, that's all…" he added in explanation, although the core of what he was saying remained unchanged.
In fact, it felt more lovey dovey than before.
"Well, whatever you say. Let's sit down." Out of embarrassment and a good deal of bashfulness, I pushed Totsuka's back, urging him on. Damn it, why did this guy's back have to be so thin? He was so light that he made no resistance whatsoever when I pushed him.
"Okay, I'll sit here." Saika beckoned to me eagerly under the table where nobody could see.
"…ah." Having confirmed my eyes weren't deceiving me, I sat beside him. My jaw was slack, so I pretended to stifle a yawn with one hand.
"Now then, shall we dig in?" Finally, Hiratsuka‐sensei sat down on the edge beside me.
At her signal, everyone clapped their hands together lightly and said, "Itadakimasu."
Now that I thought about it, I had a feeling it had been quite a while since I had last eaten with so many people gathered in one place. Even though it had been two years ago at most, it felt like quite a long time.
"It's like a school lunch," Saika whispered stealthily into my ear, as if he felt the same way I did.
"Mm, and curry's on the menu here too." I mustered some generic response, trembling because of how much closer we were than usual.
"Boys sure like curry. They kick up a huge fuss when curry's on the menu," Yui said in a nostalgic tone. It seemed we had a similar experience with school lunches, curry and noisy boys in elementary and middle school. That's how it worked in my school.
"Yeah, yeah. And when the person on lunch duty upset the curry pot, he'd cop so much flack for it." Tobe laughed as he shovelled curry into his mouth. "Totally, man!"
"Then, that person on lunch duty was blamed for it in class, y'know, and because of that whole curry thing he had to wear a white coat and go around to the other classes handing out the rest of the curry, but just because his curry got stolen by one of the other classes, the teacher on patrol told him off and he got so miserable he shed a few tears in the hallway, but the absolute worst thing about it was that the stain on his coat wouldn't come off so the next time he was on duty, people were all like, 'his coat stinks of curry (lol)' That sort of thing happens too."
"No, it doesn't…" said Yui.
"Why was that so detailed…? Personal experience?" Yukinoshita asked.
Their hands, still holding their spoons, stopped in midair.
"That stain really wouldn't come off so I was super worried…" said Komachi.
Enter Everyone Feel Sorry for Hikigaya mode. Thanks to the ensuing silence, I could easily hear the bell crickets chirp brightly.
Hayama coughed lightly in an attempt to smooth things over. "Well, all the guys like curry so I guess they'd be seething. There's also Malt Jelly days."
Crap, this was getting really nostalgic. That mysterious jelly had a distinctive flavour, almost like Milo. Man, did it hit the spot. Nobody ever dreamed of skipping that day. Hayama went on. "I asked my friends living in other prefectures, but it seems Malt Jelly is only served in school lunches in Chiba."
"Huh?!"
"Really?!"
"I‐is that true?"
Yuigahama, Miura and Komachi could not contain their surprise.
"Hey hey, isn't it generally an unlucky symbol in the regions that aren't considered prefectures?" I narrowly avoided losing hope in all of Japan. Even Ebina‐san was speechless. Everyone present started kicking up a stir, buzzing with interest. Hayama's Chiba trivia was causing an eruption. However, you couldn't dub him the Chibapedia from this level of knowledge. Everyone else could lose! Only I had no intention of losing when it came to Chiba! "Did you know? Miso peas are only served in school lunches at Chiba?"
"Yeah, I knew."
"Who wouldn't know?"
"I mean, only people from Chiba eat them at home."
Everyone's reaction was way too cold. Also, I see Madame Miura's folks regularly ate miso peas at home. We don't eat them at our place, damn it.
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-WG
