When I arrived at school, my eyes were drawn to a large piece of poster board on display. People crowded nearby, and faces both familiar and unfamiliar were all talking about one thing.
The poster was the class division sheet for the third-years.
“Fumiya-kun.”
From behind, I heard my given name in a voice like flower petals fluttering downward. There was only one person who would address me that way.
When I turned around, there was Kikuchi-san with a gentle smile on her face. Her kind expression was like a soft stroke on my cheek, and it was directed at me. So I had to accept it properly.
“Morning, Kikuchi-san.”
“Good morning.”
After exchanging heartfelt greetings, our eyes naturally went in the same direction. Eventually, both of us checked the poster, and while we were a bit shy about it, our eyes met again.
“I’m looking forward to being in the third year with you,” she said.
“Yeah… Me too.”
Our names were both written there together on the class list for arts. At Sekitomo High School, you were divided into a number of different course streams based on academic ability, with only two or three classes in a course, and our courses were divided into three types: arts classes, science classes, and advanced classes.
Neither of us were surprised, since we had told each other beforehand that we would be taking the regular course in arts. But it was a relief to actually see our names listed for the same classes, even if we expected the outcome. Still, that was only possible because we both originally wanted to go into arts, and even if we hadn’t, I wouldn’t have picked my course based on what Kikuchi-san wanted.
I think that was my karma—neither wrong nor right.
As I was thinking, Kikuchi-san spoke up as if she’d summoned the courage to say something. “Oh, yes… Um! Do you have a little time after school today?”
“I do… What’s up?”
“Actually…there’s something I wanted to tell you.”
“What is it?” I nodded, although I couldn’t imagine what it was about.
A soft smile came naturally to her face. “Umm, essentially—”
“Heya, Fumiya. Morning, Fuka-chan.”
“Whoa!”
Right as we were having a fairly private sort of conversation, Mizusawa the playboy cut in. He even used different greetings for me and Kikuchi-san and casually called her by her given name. The way he broke into my thoughts startled me, too.
Kikuchi-san must have been getting accustomed to Mizusawa’s familiarity, as she replied, “Good morning,” without any bewilderment. I wish she wasn’t so used to that, though. Really, it was Mizusawa’s fault for becoming so familiar.
“…So you’re in arts, too, Mizusawa?”
“Yup. Shuji and Takei went to sciences, though,” he said nonchalantly.
The members of the Osaka trip had been in the same class so far, but we weren’t necessarily going to be all buddy-buddy in the same class forever. The class change was when we would each take our first step down different paths toward our various futures. So you can do math, huh, Takei?
“Well, everyone’s got their own plans for the future,” I said.
Mizusawa nodded. “Mm.”
Meanwhile, I had decided that I would aim to be a pro gamer, which wasn’t part of either course. If I had to say which it was, it would be more sciencey.
Our environment was slowly transforming. I’m sure that many things would change without us even realizing it, and they would never go back to how they were before. Even those who had gone on the Osaka trip together would be in different classes in their third year and live different lives going forward. In their new classes, they would build new relationships and make new memories.
“And then Mimimi is also in the arts class—,” I said, and Mizusawa finished for me.
“And Tama and Yuzu are sciences, huh.”
In other words, Kikuchi-san, Mizusawa, Mimimi, and I were in arts.
Sciences would be Nakamura, Izumi, Tama-chan, and Takei.
And—the one name that had not come up…
“…Hinami-san is in the advanced class, isn’t she?” Kikuchi-san murmured.
“…Yeah,” I said gloomily. That one fact had brought down my mood.
Generally, you would go into whichever course stream you had selected, but there was one exception to that rule.
That was the advanced class.
It was a serious, university-oriented course at Sekitomo High School, and only the top twenty applicants with the best grades could participate. Just wanting to take it wasn’t a guarantee that you would get in. Generally speaking, it’s fair to say that the brilliant passing grades (for entrance exams) at this school are produced by this class, and Sekitomo’s future is in the hands of these twenty elites.
They had a different school building and a different schedule, a sanctuary far away from it all— Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but since they had a different building, that meant they entered by a different gate, and so the route they took to school was also distinct. The advanced class was in a unique position, and the appearance of special treatment didn’t do them any favors with the other classes.
“…You haven’t been able to get in touch with her since then, have you?” Kikuchi-san took a step closer to ask.
Mizusawa dipped his head. “No. I haven’t, and Shuji and Takei said the same thing, too.”
“Me neither… Not even once.”
Yeah.
During the two weeks of spring break, not a single one of us had managed to get in contact with Hinami.
This was a clear irregularity when she had managed such perfection before. The others also had to understand how big this was. But I doubted they understood the details—like how we got here or what state of mind Hinami had been in when she’d chosen that answer. It was fair to say they would have no idea.
“Was that video letter such a bad idea?” Mizusawa asked.
“…I don’t know. There was nothing odd about what was in it, though.” Kikuchi-san tilted her head.
I considered the question, too, but even I didn’t know the truth.
“Maybe she didn’t like us getting her family involved,” I murmured, and Mizusawa and Kikuchi-san looked at me silently.
“Well, when it comes to family, people tend to either tell you everything or nothing at all,” said Mizusawa.
“…Maybe she has some reasons for that,” Kikuchi commented. She had to be thinking the same thing as me.
As we’d been gathering information for the play, we’d learned about her other sister. I was aware of what had really happened there, but even without understanding the whole truth, you could basically imagine what might’ve happened, just knowing she’d had a little sister who was now gone.
“Reasons…huh,” I said, fumbling for the truth, and I headed for the classroom with the other two.