On Friday afternoon, the day before the race, I found myself standing on the athletics field of a school I’d never set foot in in my entire life. Sasayuri Public Junior High School, President Houkobaru’s old stomping grounds, was surrounded by cabbage patch fields, and the wind carried the scents of the ocean, reminding me that I was far from home.
What was the deal with me and junior highs lately?
A woman—a teacher, I figured—was chatting with the president. Meanwhile, I did my stretches. Radio calisthenics. Classic.
Sakurai-kun approached mid-stretch. “I apologize for making you come all the way out here. Hiba-nee can be very ‘my way or the highway.’”
“I’m in the lit club. I’m used to it.”
We exchanged sympathetic grins.
“All right, save the slander for later,” the president said, tossing her coat aside as she approached. “I intend to put you through your paces today, Nukumizu-kun. To an extent that doesn’t impact your performance tomorrow, but all the same.”
“About that. I actually had an idea.”
“Oh? Let’s hear it.” She did. When I finished sharing it with her, she nodded. “It’s worth experimentation. Hiroto, record from the finish line, if you would.”
“Roger,” the treasurer replied. “Good luck, Nukumizu-kun.” Then he jogged to his position.
What a great guy. Probably the most normal person in my life right now. Which was really sad, come to think of it. Tamaki-senpai was the other one, but he’d graduated. It was weirdos all the way down from here on out.
“Something on my face?” the president asked.
“Uh, no. I’ll go get in position.”
She was one of the normal ones. Right? Yeah. Comparatively speaking, for sure.
✦ ✦ ✦
Two hours of “light” adjustments later, we finally made it to President Houkobaru’s home. Surprisingly enough, though, I wasn’t all that winded.
The president’s house was old school. A large, single-story, traditional Japanese build, complete with a wide-open garden in the front dotted with several sheds and storerooms. Wasn’t often you still saw this kind of architecture, so I found myself staring as we crossed said garden.
“What exactly do your folks do?” I asked.
“They own several small fields in the area. They also do work with labor unions, but they’re out right now. My apologies that I can’t offer a more appropriate welcome.”
She rattled open the sliding front door. There was a surprisingly spacious mud room, along with a couple pairs of shoes already present. I’d heard she was an only child, so who did they belong to? Young women, I guessed, based on their appearance.
“President! Welcome home!” Suddenly, pitter-pattering in her slippers, donned in an apron, came Tiara-san.
“Uh, why are you here?” That probably came out rude.
But Tiara-san simply puffed her chest out, paying it little mind. “The vice president is always there to support her partner in office. Come in, now. All of you.”
“As she says,” the president urged. “Hiroto, if you’ll show Nukumizu-kun the way.”
“Right. Follow me,” Sakurai-kun said. He took point and led me to a spacious room in theme with the rest of the traditional style on display. Tatami mats. Open air. Veranda right outside. Felt like I was at a grandparent’s house, but in a very good way.
“Is all this for me?” I asked. “Really?”
“Our grandparents moved closer to town. No one’s using it.”
“Right, forgot you and the president are cousins.”
He nodded, placing his bag down. “Don’t be too impressed. Every other spare room is crammed with junk. This is probably the cleanest one in the whole house.”
In which case, we were sharing. Did not know that. Didn’t like it. I couldn’t sleep with other people. But it wasn’t like I was about to complain to my host, so I put my own bag down, then stepped outside onto the veranda. It overlooked a yard of persimmon trees and neatly trimmed hedges. The perfect view for tea-drinking and sunbathing in one’s twilight years. That was the dream.
I took another step forward, still lost in my retirement reverie, and walked straight onto something fleshy.
“Shikiya-san?!” Lots of flesh on that one. And I’d stepped right on her. She rose slightly from her slumber on the veranda, groggily rubbing her eyes. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you were there!”
“It’s okay. Veranda…warm,” she rasped. She staggered to her feet and met eyes with me. “Why…are you here?”
“I’m having a race tomorrow, so we’re holding a bit of a training camp. But what about you guys? Why are you and Basori-san here?”
“For…fun?”
A very Shikiya-san response, and not at all informative in the slightest.
“Hiba-nee pretty much lives by ‘the more, the merrier,’” Sakurai-kun explained. “Our Obons can get pretty hectic.”
Thank god for him. So basically, President Houkobaru had made the executive decision to make this a student council event.
Shikiya-san wobbled over and gently tugged my jacket sleeve. “Cook…with me.”
Cook? Food? But wait. “I saw Basori-san in an apron. I think she’s already on it.”
“It won’t be good.”
Y’know what? That tracked.
“The president’s with her, though. Surely she’ll—”
Crash! Moments later, Tiara-san shrieked. Sakurai-kun was gone in a flash. I’d forgotten. The president was a chronic klutz. We were here to make sure I was in prime condition for tomorrow, right? Not to kill me before then?
I hid a sigh through my nose and went after Sakurai-kun, Shikiya-san still clinging to my sleeve.
✦ ✦ ✦
Dinner didn’t last long. I was already cleaning dishes just after six o’clock. Tiara-san stood next to me, drying what I washed. She was quiet. Uncharacteristically so.
“I didn’t know you could cook,” she finally squeaked.
“Dunno if I ‘can.’ But I do. Both my parents work, so, y’know.”
They’d been making some kind of stew at first, but that had to change after the president up and knocked the entire pot over, completely ruining everything. Thankfully, there was no shortage of cabbage. A bit of asazuke for a pickle-y tang, some frozen ground meat, and we had some open-faced cabbage rolls.
“There’s humble, and then there’s you. You used the carrot skins to make kinpira, all without taking your attention off the main dish.”
“Just multitasking. Takes time for heat to permeate.”
Kaju could have made two whole separate entrées in the same amount of time. Plus dessert. I had a lot of catching up to do.
“I liked your miso soup,” I added shyly. “It was good.”
“I usually make better,” she replied softly.
“I mean, all you did was forget to make the dashi.”
“I usually don’t…”
I decided to stop talking. I quietly handed her a freshly washed dish. She quietly accepted.
Just when we’d finished and were wiping the sink dry, the president appeared in the kitchen. “All right, before my parents return, we ought to finish our baths. Guests first. That means you.”
“You sure?” I asked.
“Of course. We’re all here for you, after all. Though seeing as there are so many of us, could I ask you to share one with Hiroto?”
“What?!” blurted Tiara-san. Not me. Tiara-san. She shuffled toward the president, trembling like a leaf. “I-is that even legal?! What about public decency?!”
“What about it?”
Red swallowed Tiara-san’s face. “Th-th-they’re going to be alone together! In their birthday suits!”
“Well, yes. Baths are typically taken in the nude.”
Facts and logic win again.
“I really don’t mind,” I spoke up.
“Nukumizu-san?!” Tiara-san squealed. “Wait.” Her trembling softened. Her eyes narrowed. Conviction filled them. “I will join you!”
✦ ✦ ✦
This was getting out of hand.
Just as my patience was wearing thin, Sakurai-kun appeared, drawn by Tiara-san’s octave-shattering voice cracks, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Basori-chan. You can’t join us in the bath.”
“B-but I have to see—I mean, I have to monitor you to ensure nothing obscene is afoot!”
While I pondered the viability of just tying her up and leaving her in a broom closet for the night, Sakurai-kun was unfazed. The avatar of composure and tolerance itself. “I promise we will be fine. You take one with Hiba-nee. How does that sound?”
Tiara-san gasped. “A bath?! W-with the president?!”
She wrapped her arm around her shoulder. “Is that all you wanted? I’d be happy to oblige, Basori-kun.”
“I…! Um!” The trembling returned. Tiara-san became as a mouse.
“Hurry,” Sakurai-kun hissed in my ear. “While we still can.”
“R-right.” So this was how to handle her. Well played, Sakurai-kun. I should have taken some notes.