You could cut the tension in the club room with a knife. Yanami and Komari were dead silent. Before Shiratama Riko were three envelopes. The big, A4-sized ones for fitting full sheets of paper or notebooks. On them were written the kanji for “pine,” “bamboo,” and “plum” respectively. Denotations for rankings, of sort.
“I compiled three plans last night. Please, take your pick, President.” She gestured to me across the table.
What if I didn’t want to pick?
“Go on, Mr. President,” urged Yanami, to my side.
“H-hurry it up, President,” pressed the angry one, to my other side.
They literally only ever called me that when it suited them.
After much waffling, I picked bamboo. Plan B, as it were. A truly middle-of-the-pack choice. How Japanese of me.
“Is this a flyer for real estate?” I asked.
A rental, to be precise. Quaint little place up in the mountains just north of Futagawa Station.
“I found the perfect property down in Futagawa,” Shiratama-san said. “Quiet. Few neighbors. It even has a basement—”
I returned the flyer to the envelope. “Can I see the others?”
“But I haven’t told you the plan yet.”
And I wanted to keep it that way. I went for pine (Plan A). Inside was a travel brochure. The cover depicted a big, fancy cottage on the water.
“What is this?”
“They’re going to Tahiti for their honeymoon. They’re always busy, so they’re using it as an excuse to relax.”
Yanami had snatched the brochure from me before Shiratama-san was even done speaking. “No way, this is so romantic! Imagine laying back, gazing at the stars together.” But the light of secondhand excitement left her eyes as quickly as it had arrived. “Right. Honeymoons. First wedding. Then honeymoon…”
We were dangerously close to one of her episodes. I gave Komari the signal. She popped a dried plum in Yanami’s mouth. Still very visibly dead inside, she chewed while I gently retrieved the brochure from her hands.
“What’s the plan?” I asked.
“My sister and I look nearly identical from behind,” Shiratama-san said. “We rent the neighboring cottage, then when night comes, we swap places and—”
Back in the envelope it went. That left the plum plan, and I prayed beyond hope that it would be a decent one. In the final envelope was a bunch of random documents and catalogs.
“Is this your sister’s venue?”
“That’s right. Those are all for the wedding. Brochures, quotes, estimates, the seating chart—I made copies of everything.” Shiratama-san began to sort the many, many papers but stopped. She’d frozen on a picture of a pure white dress with long sleeves.
A wedding dress.
“This is it,” she said. “What I intended to wear and take photos in at the altar.” She shook her head and turned it over. “My sister was first in everything. I wanted this. Just this one little thing I could say I had first. Then maybe I could finally come to terms with it. Call Tanaka-sensei ‘Oniisan’ like I’m supposed to.” A moment of stunned silence later, and she began to collect them again. “It’s ridiculous. Let’s go with one of the other—”
I lurched forward and slammed my hand down on the papers. “Let’s do this one!”
“Nukumizu-kun?!” blurted Yanami.
But really. Had she heard our other options?
Shiratama-san turned her eyes up at me, blinking several times. “But it’ll only be there on the day of. How will we take photos?”
“I don’t know if you’ll be able to put that exact dress on and do that, but what’s stopping you from taking photos anyway? In a different dress?”
“At the chapel?”
“At the chapel.”
“Not enough.” That threw me for a loop. Not enough? Shiratama-san leaned forward. “What if we got photos with Tanaka-sensei?”
“At the chapel?”
She nodded. “At the chapel.”
That was pushing it. Take a couple photos at a wedding chapel, with the groom, without him knowing? She could not be serious. Even she had to understand how insane an idea that was.
Her eyes glided over the other two envelopes.
“Let’s do it.”
She lit up. “Really?! Then let’s not waste time.”
Immediately, Yanami and Komari grabbed me by my arms and dragged me to a corner of the room.
“What’s the deal?” I demanded.
“You’re actually going through with this?!” Yanami barked. “I don’t know about you, but I would rather not have a criminal record!”
“D-die alone! Don’t d-drag us down with you!” Komari sputtered.
What were they losing their heads over a few photos for? All we were doing was crashing a wedding so we could get a few candid shots of the groom completely against his…will.
“Wait, is this illegal?”
They nodded.
Yanami sighed and whipped around. “I totally get you, Shiratama-chan, but this isn’t as simple as you’re making it out. Just renting a dress’ll be real pricey, and that’s not even touching how expensive a professional photographer will be. We don’t have that kind of money.”
“I know. I thought of that.” Shiratama-san placed a card on the table. The kind distributed by Toyohashi Shinkin Bank. ToyoShin for short. “I’ve been saving every bit of birthday and New Year’s money I got for the past fifteen years. This has a million yen on it easy.”
Our jaws hit the floor. We were extremely speechless.
She pushed it forward. “It’s yours. Use whatever you need.”
Ours. Yeah. No. Just accept a casual million yen like it’s nothing.
I could feel the others staring holes into me, so I stepped forward. “We, uh, definitely need money, but you can help when that comes up. Keep it for yourself.”
“What he said,” Yanami agreed. “You’ve still gotta pay for transportation and food and stuff. Living’s expensive.”
I could see those hands creeping.
“I’m asking a lot from everyone, though. This is all I can do to help.” Shiratama-san’s voice fell to a murmur. Her head hung low.
Even more reason we couldn’t accept. “Listen, we’re your senpai. That’s all the motive we need to lend a hand.”
Komari nodded in agreement.
“Oh, thank you. Thank you, everyone.” Shiratama-san wiped the beginnings of tears from her eyes.
“Still,” I said, awkwardly scratching my face, “it’s not gonna be easy getting those photos under your sister’s nose.”
We’d have to study those papers thoroughly. Come up with a step-by-step plan.
Wait. We were doing this. We were actually doing this. When did that happen? Even Komari looked convinced, and Yanami was on board the moment she smelled money.
“I got caught pretty fast the first time, so I don’t actually have a good idea of the venue layout,” she passionately began to explain. “It’d be best if we could scope the place out before—”
“Shiratama-san,” I interjected.
“Yes, President?”
Those eyes. So bright. How was I going to break this to her? Definitely not point-blank. I had to play this safe. Gradually shift her thinking with different ideas without outright rejecting her own.
Then, no sooner than I heard footsteps and voices in the hallway did the door burst open.
“Entering!” boistered Houkobaru Hibari, student council president. With a cursory bow in our stunned direction, she strode across the room. “So you are the one called Shiratama Riko-kun.”
“Um, yes,” she replied. “You’re the student council president?” The girl was frozen to her chair.
The president batted her hair away with a suave expression that seemed permanently glued to her face. “Excuse me. Introductions are in order. I am indeed she, Houkobaru. I have heard much about you, Riko-kun!”
“You have?! What exactly?”
Amidst our flummoxed flabbergastment came an out of breath Sakurai-kun. “Hiba-nee,” he panted, hand to his chest. “I said wait.” He staggered toward the towering president. “You’re frightening everyone. Let’s go, before we make even bigger nuisances of ourselves.”
“Now, now, Hiroto. You’re interrupting.” The president, in complete disregard of the wise man’s words, placed her hands on Shiratama-san’s shoulders.
“E-excuse me?” she sputtered.
“Yours is an imperfect, clandestine love! Your spirit, womanly in its unwillingness to yield! As a woman myself, I greatly admire you. Let me assist!” the president declared, as if to the heavens.
Sakurai-kun looked ready to beseech them for help.
Shiratama-san gradually dethawed enough to move her lips again. “And where did you hear about me exactly?”
“That boy right there. Hiroto told me everything. Rest assured, he and I are practically family.”
The man in question was now bowing low to me. I might have anticipated this.
“So I told President, who told him, who told you. Is that right?”
“Well reasoned.”
Shiratama-san’s head jerked to me like it was on a rusty swivel. I then learned just how emotive she could be. I learned it very well.
While I wiped some unrelated sweat from my brow, Yanami stopped eating plums long enough to speak up. Not really. But she did speak up. “What was that about you offering to help?”
“Right,” the president said. “If it’s a mark you hope to leave, you can never have too many claws.” She took the venue brochure and flipped through it. “Revenge, is it?”
“Revenge?” I echoed.
She nodded, still reading the brochure. “You’re going to infiltrate the venue again and steal the dress, no?”
“We, uh, gave up on that. The current plan is to secretly take photos with Tanaka-sensei instead.”
“That sounds exceptionally difficult.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“President! There you are!” With a short bow, Tiara-san invited herself in. “The teacher is waiting on you. Did you forget we had an election meeting today?”
“I did indeed,” the president replied. “Is my presence required?”
“Obviously! Shikiya-senpai is doing what she can to stall, but we need you now!”
“Very well. Shiratama-kun, might I borrow this?”
“Oh, um, sure,” she replied. “I have everything we need out of that.”
The president promptly vanished, escorted away by Tiara-san. But my relief lasted only seconds before the latter came stomping back. She glared at me.
“Wh-what?” I stammered.
“You aren’t involving our student council president in anything illicit, are you?”
“Nope. No.”
“Why did you say it twice?” Her eyes narrowed. I wasn’t lying. All of this was of the president’s own free will. “Do anything to besmirch her record, and I will go scorched earth. Not even you will escape, Nukumizu-san.”
With that, she left. In and out like a storm. Only Sakurai-kun remained, his face utterly distraught.
“I, uh, don’t even know where to begin apologizing,” he said.
Yanami shook her head, offering him a dried plum. “It isn’t your fault. It’s Nukumizu-kun’s, and his big fat mouth.”
“What?” I questioned. “It is?”
Yanami and Komari nodded in unison. Well. Whoops.
Shiratama-san was still emoting. In a very interesting way.