Loss 1:
Nukumizu Kazuhiko of Class 2-C
A WEEK AFTER THE NIGHTMARE THAT WAS FIRST-YEAR orientation, my mind was wandering. Classes had ended and homeroom was all that stood between us and freedom. I had to go straight to the club. Recruiting season was just about over.
Yes. Already.
“Not good,” I grumbled, eyes turned up toward a new ceiling I was quickly becoming accustomed to complaining to. The lit club had welcomed a whopping zero visitors, and today was the last chance we had at getting any.
“I’ll say. You don’t look so hot.”
“We’re just a little hard up for members is all.”
Ayano Mitsuki. His story: Stuff happened with Yakishio. Nothing came of it. He was still denser than a ton of bricks.
“I can’t say I’m surprised after the reputation you made for yourselves at orientation,” said a short, honestly kind of effeminate boy. Sakurai Hiroto, student council treasurer, came up to stand next to Ayano. We’d become classmates now that we were second-years.
“Reputation? What kind of reputation?” I asked.
“The, uh, good kind. Don’t worry about it.”
Nothing like a sweet, white lie to fuel the escapism. I admired Sakurai-kun’s kindness, but the reality was we hadn’t gotten a single interested party.
“But if we don’t get a fifth member, the whole club’s getting axed.”
“Didn’t you only have four at one point last year?” Ayano pointed out.
“Clubs won’t be disbanded so long as they have at least one first-year among their members,” Sakurai-kun answered. “It’s basically a pity measure, so brand-new students aren’t left without a club as soon as they’ve joined one.”
Not particularly relevant for our current situation. The lit club needed any member, period, or we were toast. But this wasn’t all on me. They had some part to play in this crisis.
I looked askance at the girls across the room. Yanami and Komari. The former hung over the latter from behind, like a human jacket, while she chatted with one Himemiya Karen. Komari did not appear pleased with this arrangement, but she was doing a lot better than she would have at the start of the semester. Fewer split ends. Like a fish learning to swim in a new pond, she’d acclimated.
Yakishio, unfortunately, was the odd one out. We never talked much last year, but not having her around felt like a bit of a shame. Especially after we’d only just barely managed to hang onto her after that ordeal with the race. Ultimately, I didn’t presume to call us any closer than when it all started, but I knew one thing for sure—she wasn’t hesitating anymore. She’d been going full speed ahead ever since.
I only paid half attention to Ayano’s and Sakurai-kun’s ongoing conversation. Before long, the door opened, and in came class 2-C’s homeroom teacher: social studies specialist Amanatsu Konami. Whose face I was becoming a little too familiar with at this point.
She rose to her podium and clapped her hands. “Butts, meet chairs. Time to get to business.”
The class trudged to their desks. They’d learned—it hadn’t taken long. But believe it or not, Amanatsu-senpai did not launch into one of her usual tirades. She was in good spirits these days.
Sensei finished jotting announcements on the board, then faced us again. “I’ve got a lot going on, see. Big stuff behind the scenes, big stuff.” She grinned like she thought we cared. “What can I say? I’ve still got it. Demand is high, and stock is low. Shame there’s only one of me, eh?” Unable to contain her own smug aura, she started smacking the podium. Based on the nuggets of info she’d dropped now and then, I’d arrived at a theory regarding this sharp change in mood: Sensei had peaked. “Gosh, who’s leaving all those likes? For the record, those don’t work on me! Sensei’s got principles, so don’t you dare think I’m easy!”
I now had a new theory: dating app. Uh-oh. Did Amanatsu Konami truly have the power to tame such sorcery?
Finally, and probably not at all influenced by the impatient gazes of her students, she thwacked the podium with the class roster and said, “All right, dismissed! Get home safe, ya rascals!”
✦ ✦ ✦
Ennui. That was the word I would have used to describe the club room that evening. Komari browsed the bookshelves, but her eyes were looking past them. Yanami was entranced by a video of butter melting on her phone. Panic was giving way to resignation.
That was the worst thing to happen at a time like this. I stood up from my seat and proclaimed, “Look sharp, guys. Today’s the day. I can feel it.”
Yanami reluctantly raised her head with a sigh. “We had a whole week to get visitors and didn’t get a single one. What makes you think today’s gonna be any different?”
“That’s exactly it. It’s because it’s the last day that there’s a chance.”
“H-how do you figure?” Komari asked apathetically.
“Who joins the lit club? Timid introverts, that’s who. Can you blame them for getting cold feet after orientation?” Self-burn. I still had nightmares about that disaster. “So if anyone’s going to join, it’ll be today. When it’s their last chance to work up the courage. We need to be ready to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.”
“‘Last chance,’ he says…” Yanami griped. “They can literally join whenever. It doesn’t have to be during the visiting period. Why are you so sure we’ll get someone today specifically?”
I figured she wouldn’t get it. Komari and I exchanged knowing looks and shrugged.
“Look, for people like us—me and Komari—it is our last chance. Just barge into a club full of strangers after it’s socially expected and accepted? Not likely. For introverts, it’s always us versus the world.”
“I really don’t think the world’s out to hurt you.”
I begged to differ, knowing what it had done to her.
“N-Nukumizu-kun,” said Komari, “should we b-bring out that?”
“Right. That. Suppose now’s the time,” I said. I brought down a cardboard box from the top shelf, pulling from it another box.
“No way, are those turtle monaka from Okamedo?! I love those!” cheered Yanami.
“Our senpai left them behind. Said they might help out with the recruiting. That means they’re not for you.”
“Um, hold on, why were those hidden up there anyway?”
This, in my professional opinion, went without saying.
I handed the box to Komari. She frowned at it. “Th-these are expired.”
Well, crap. There went that plan. Yanami snatched the box while we despaired.
“She just said those are expired,” I told her.
“Dude, you seriously believe in expiration dates?”
And thus, another Yanami-ism was born.
“Why are you talking about them like they’re Santa Claus?”
“Listen to me, Nukumizu-kun. You know why they call ’em ‘best-before’ dates sometimes? Because sometimes all they need to be is good.” She bit into one of the turtle-shaped, red bean-filled confections. “Yup, still good. Bon appétit, everyone.”
I knew a losing battle when I saw one. We acquiesced and started snacking. Eventually, my phone rang. The tone of a certain iconic film about a giant shark. I knew the sender at once: Konuki Sayo.
Checking the message preview on my lock screen, it read, “Paging Prez to the infirmary. ♡”
Prez really did not want to go to the infirmary.
Komari took a peek while I pondered an escape route. “Wh-what?”
“Konuki-sensei wants me. Kinda busy, though. You mind going?”
She croaked. “N-no, thanks.”
I did not blame her.
Yanami opened her fourth monaka. “Think we’re getting disbanded?” Komari and I jumped up, but she just calmly sipped her tea. “I mean, that’s on the table if we don’t get members, isn’t it? It’s the last day to give club tours. Figure she’s probably dropping us a warning or something.”
When she was right, she was right. Rare as it was. It only took one look at fidgety, anxious Komari for me to make peace with my fate. Seemed I was taking a trip to the infirmary.
Boy, did I not want to, though.