Chapter 169

I agreed, but if I said that out loud, I’d be in for trouble. I cocked my head ambiguously. “Whaaa? Who doesn’t like talking love?” said Mana. “Degu, you didn’t really like Shizu, did you? You didn’t care who it was, as long as they liked you.” “It’s not nice to talk about that here, Mana!” Torigoe shot back. “Huh?! Shii?! When did that happen?!” Shinohara was breathing so heavily, her glasses fogged up. “He just asked me to join him for the closing party dance… It’s nothing.” Torigoe seemed a little taken aback by her friend’s outsized reaction. “Closing festival dance?” Shinohara repeated. “Asking someone to the closing party dance is tantamount to a declaration of love,” Himeji explained. “Wow! Oh my goodness!” Shinohara sounded like a housewife busy at the rumor mill. “And then he asked her for advice about a different girl,” said Mana. “See why I’m angry?” “Well, Deguchi’s obviously the type who will go with anyone, as long as they have a hole.” Torigoe was clearly even angrier. “By the way, Ryou, do you know how many people asked me out?” Himeji smirked. “No.” She put forward both hands, with all her fingers extended. Ten?! Wow. “Eight.” “Can’t you count?” I guess the gesture was unrelated. “First-years, second-years, third-years. All kinds of guys. And I turned them all down!” There was something nasty about her tone. She was smiling, but her eyes were cold. “So anyway,” I said, recapping. “The tradition at our school is to ask the person you like to dance.” “Coed schools sound so fun…” Shinohara’s glasses fogged up again as she hung her head. There probably wasn’t a lot of talk about dating boys at her private girls’ school. Following that, she chose a song about heartbreak. Himeji crossed her arms and legs and listened like she was a judge. “I, the queen of heartbreak songs, shall show you how it’s done next,” she said. “Nobody asked for that,” I quipped. “Just focus on having fun.” “You have no right to complain.” Himeji grabbed the tablet and picked a song—about heartbreak, of course. Mana and Torigoe glanced at me, then looked at Himeji with pathos. ……This is awkward. Hurry up and save me, Hina. I grabbed a bunch of chips and threw them in my mouth, pretending I didn’t notice the girls’ expressions. “I’ll sing a sad one, too, then,” said Mana. “Wanna join, Shizu?” “Sure. Is it one I know?” “You’ll know it.” “I think I’ll sing one, too,” said Deguchi. “Don’t be a poser. Your heart’s not broken.” According to Mana, Deguchi had tried his hand with multiple other girls after Torigoe turned him down, and thus his heartbreak didn’t count. “Hey, you don’t get to decide whether my heart’s broken or not!” I turned to Deguchi, taking pity on him. “Wanna sing together?” Deguchi looked at me, his eyes as big as saucers. “I’m not letting a happy guy with a girlfriend sing this!” Come on, man. Himeji stood at the front and began to sing. She was even improvising some dance moves. Is she looking at me? She’d had voice training and was always pretty good. But now she was even better. She sang slowly, pouring her emotions into her voice. Deguchi, Mana, and Torigoe were lost in her song. Only Shinohara was clapping along to the rhythm. I don’t think this is the kind of song you clap to… After a while, the clapping stopped, and I turned to check on her. She was crying and waving her hand as if she were holding a penlight. She looked like a die-hard fan at a concert. “Lady Hime’s voice penetrates my heart and echoes in my soul…,” she muttered. Considering how you cried at the play, too, I think your heart might be a little too soft. Just then, I saw someone peek through the window in the door. Isn’t that…? Hina opened the door and stepped inside. Everyone turned to look, and she put her hands together in apology. Himeji shot her a sharp glare as the interlude began. “Hina. This is a duel.” “All right! Let’s do it! You have to buy me a drink if you lose.” “You think a frog in a well can defeat me?” Hina took the seat next to me—the spot Himeji had been sitting in before she got up. “Hey. How was work?” I asked. “I have a lot to tell you, but let’s wait until later.” From the look on her face, it didn’t seem like anything bad. The song ended, and Shinohara started clapping furiously. After a few moments, the other three snapped out of their trance and joined in. “Himejima, you’re amazing,” said Deguchi. “A real pro.” “I mean, she is a former idol and the current star of a musical!” said Mana as she looked for a song. Torigoe nodded. “Have you sung yet, Ryou?” asked Hina. “Not yet.” “Let’s sing together, then. A fun one.” “That’s not really the mood in the room right now.” “Hmm?” Hina looked at me in confusion, as Himeji came back and forced her butt into the tiny space between us. “H-hey, Ai!” “What? I just came back to my seat.” Hina could tell Himeji was trying to pick a fight. Himeji had been sitting beside me, but there was an open spot right on my other side, between me and Deguchi. She’d chosen this side on purpose. “Congratulations on your show and all,” said Hina, “but I don’t think this is very professional. You’re just like those shameless ladies on the train.” Oh yeah. There’s always that one lady who forces her way into a seat. “Oh, sorry, I don’t take the train to work, so I wouldn’t know. Don’t tell me you’re still using public transit? Oh, poor you. I wish you the best in your hair model endeavors.” Himeji was letting it all out. “Stop fighting,” I warned. But once they got started, it was a lost cause. “You don’t even know what you’re missing as a hair model. It’s so fun trying out a bunch of different styles.” “Heh. Good for you. How much are you getting paid? Like one hundred yen?” “That’s low… You can make fun of me, but not my job.” This was nothing new for me, but Deguchi and Shinohara weren’t used to it, and it showed on their faces. Mana and Torigoe didn’t mind, however. They’d already started their song. I ignored the argument and listened to our friends sing while enjoying some snacks and juice. “You should sing something with Bubby, Shizu.” “Th-that’s okay, ManaMana.” “You don’t want to?” “I value my life.” Just then, Mana noticed the look on Hina’s face. She had the stern expression of an ascetic monk, back from years of rigorous training. “What’re you gonna do about it, Hina?” asked Mana. “Nothing.” “If you end up in a different class next year, are you gonna glare at everyone like that every time you see them?” “Hngh…” “You can’t ask him not to talk to other girls. You gotta let him sing with Shizu at least, or you’ll die of jealousy.” It was a reasonable argument. Hina pressed her lips together. She knew I was close with Torigoe. That was probably why she was so wary. Himeji felt like she was receiving backup and nodded dramatically. “You’ll get used to it. It’ll just take some time,” said Torigoe. Her comment eased the mood somewhat, and Deguchi chose that moment to cut in. “Well, now that we’re all in a great mood…” “I’m not sure I’d call it ‘great.’” “Takayan, just go with the flow!” “Oh, sorry.” It had been a few minutes since Hina had arrived. I knew where Deguchi was going. “Takayan, stand by.” “Yes, boss.” The girls looked at us, wondering what we were about to do. I opened the video file on my phone. It was pretty large. Meanwhile, Deguchi plugged the cable into the room’s display. We turned off the lights, and the room sank into darkness. “R-ready, Takayan? This is gonna work, right?” “No idea.” Deguchi handed me the other end of the cable, and I plugged it into my phone. I fiddled with the settings, and then my background showed up on the screen. It had worked. “What are you doing, Ryou?” asked Hina. “Remember when all of us hung out before?” Nobody except Deguchi knew where I was going; they all nodded vaguely. “We went to the beach, remember?” said Deguchi. “For the film. We got up super early to take the train.” Gradually, everyone caught on, and their expressions changed. “I edited a video of our trip,” I explained. “I’m about to play it for you.” The room fell silent, and everyone watched expectantly. D-don’t worry. There’s nothing weird in the video. There was no reason for anyone to criticize me. Though I guess everyone except Torigoe is in their swimsuit for the second half. My phone screen was mirrored on the display. I expanded the app with the video and pressed play. It was like a behind-the-scenes video set against sand, sea, and sky. Hina and Himeji looked very serious as Mana did their makeup and checked their clothes with a thoughtful frown. “Whoa! This really takes me back!” Mana exclaimed, already nostalgic. “Ai and Hina look so serious.” “So do you,” I said. The video kept going, and Deguchi appeared in the corner. “Stop recording me, Takayan!” “You just ran into the frame. What’re you, a deer in the road?” Everyone in the room giggled and shared their memories of the trip. “The wind was so strong,” said Mana. “I worked so hard doing their hair, and it all went wrong in seconds. I was, like, this is so over.” “Yeah, I remember feeling bad that you had to keep fixing it,” said Hina. “And Hina kept asking for retakes,” commented Himeji. Hina turned to her. “And your acting was like cardboard, Ai.” “What? You got a problem with that?” “Nope.” In the video, Shinohara was clinging to her beloved Aika like a shadow. “Mii, that’s how a stalker acts,” said Torigoe. “You’re gonna get arrested.” “Hey, this is nothing,” she replied. Himeji hadn’t been aware of it back then, and now she was getting a little creeped out. Back at the beach, Mana made lunch for everyone. I’d been with Hina by the rocks. “Takayan, Takayan. I had the camera for a bit, right? That must be coming up soon.” Deguchi chortled. “Oh yeah. That. I cut most of that stuff.” “Wh-wh-wh-wh-why?!” Deguchi had been working the camera with his lower half. He’d filmed the girls in their swimsuits, focusing mainly on their chests, their armpits as they jumped around, their sandy butt cheeks, and their sunlit white thighs. I couldn’t show the others any of that. Soon lunch was over, and everyone started playing around. This was where Deguchi would have taken the camera if I hadn’t cut it all. The only part I’d kept was some footage of Torigoe wearing a hoodie. Everyone in the video seemed happy. We’d had a lot of fun, and I was glad we’d gone. “Omigosh, I wanna go again!” Mana said, speaking for everyone. “This time, you’ve gotta take off your hoodie, Shizu.” “N-no, I’m fine.” “Don’t let those giant titties go to waste, girl!” “D-don’t say that!” Torigoe twisted her torso away from Mana. “Some treasure is more valuable for being hidden,” said Deguchi. He had the tone of a philosopher, but his argument was unbelievably shallow. Evening arrived in the video, and we brought out the fireworks. We’d started passing the camera around, so I showed up on-screen from time to time. Eventually, the video came to an end. “That was very nice,” commented Himeji. “I’m glad you liked it,” I said. Deguchi grabbed my shoulder. “Takayan, I am not giving up.” “Get over it. I already deleted it.” “Oh my god, nooo…” Deguchi clutched his head in despair. We were all in the perfect mood to break out the cake. But this was no Christmas cake. No—it was to celebrate the success of Himeji’s show. Shinohara nervously got the cake out of the fridge, then opened the box as if it contained a fine piece of glasswork. “Christmas cake! Wait, no?” Himeji realized what was going on instantly. After all, the cake had a little plaque, reading “Congratulations, Aika!” Himeji looked right, then left, hoping for an explanation. “Now that your play is over, it just felt like the right time,” I said. “…You did this for me?” She looked around and fidgeted. Everyone nodded. I’d expected her to say, “I already had a cake with my coworkers, so you really didn’t need to.” But she completely betrayed my expectations. “Thank…you,” she said, clearly moved. Deguchi bashfully rubbed his upper lip with a finger. No one does that anymore, man. “It was Shinohara’s idea,” he said. Shinohara looked like she was about to cry in the face of Himeji’s sincere gratitude.