“Like Haruka-chan’s feelings!”
✦ ✦ ✦
Mimimi stood up on the swing and shook the chains, making them clank. “You know…I’ve always felt that way, too.”
“…How?”
She looked up at the stars and the moon from a spot that was a little closer to the sky than usual. “That I’d like to be like Aoi.”
The pallid light of the stars quietly fell upon Mimimi’s porcelainlike skin. “She’s just that kind of person. She shines bright, but you can never reach her. And then at the most unexpected times, she’ll say something to you that’s sincerely motivating. I love that about her.”
I could understand what she said so well it hurt.
“So I get it. I think—right now, Haruka-chan isn’t just worried… I think she’s scared.”
“Scared?”
“Yeah. —Hup!”
Mimimi bounded down from the swing, and the chains rattled and swung around. The sound of her running shoes crunching on gravel filled the empty park.
“I don’t think she wants to imagine that someone who shines as bright as Aoi could be wrong.”
“…Of course,” I said, since that made sense to me.
“Do you really understand, Brain?”
“Huh?”
Mimimi’s brought her face near. I looked away, having her so close. “When someone you admire is unhappy, you know—it’s the same thing as being unhappy yourself.”
“Umm. Is that something like…your favorite band member’s happiness being your own?”
“Hmm…that’s half right, but half nothing like that.”
“Urk…”
Nothing like that? Mimimi’s pop quizzes are hard.
“I mean, when someone is your role model, you want to be like them, right?”
“Yeah.”
“If the person you have as your role model seems unhappy, what do you think will happen to you, then?”
“Ah…” Then I got it.
Well, I don’t have any celebrities I’m a fan of or anything—but if you’re talking about a role model, then I do have someone. “You mean that if your role model is wrong, you can’t be happy even if you do your best to become like them.”
“That’s what I mean!” Mimimi spun around, sitting down on the swing fence. “The important thing is that you can’t believe in that anymore.”
“You can’t believe in it anymore…”
“If you were so sure that something was right and then that belief gets shaken, then you wind up feeling like you’re wrong no matter what, right?”
It seemed intuitive and yet also very logical. People would project themselves on their idols and see their ideal selves. When the one they admire is unhappy, would they be able to believe in their own happiness?
I remembered when Hinami had pointed to her own head and boasted that she had a strategy guide right there. I had found my answers in Hinami’s accomplishments and in her overflowing confidence, and she became my role model in my efforts. It’s fair to say that was because I could believe in Aoi Hinami, in NO NAME.
If I’d seen Hinami fall from grace—then of course I couldn’t keep playing the game of life through her methods.
“So I don’t think Haruka-chan wants to believe that her perfect big sister’s story is a lie, either.”
“I see…” I had the feeling Mimimi was referring to Kikuchi-san’s words about her sun being destroyed.
“I think…Hinami has noticed how Haruka-chan feels, too.”
“She must have.” Even though Haruka-chan admired her, Hinami was still unable to get back up on her feet, and she was cooped up at home spending all her time playing Atafami. There was no way that Aoi Hinami, who had once aimed for perfection, would want that.
“Hey, Brain.”
I could sense the gentle determination in her voice, and I had the feeling she was thinking the same thing as me.
“Friends help each other, right?” Mimimi’s expression was filled with hope, despite the situation.
So I stopped leaning on the swing, too.
I gave the chain a rattle and met her gaze.
“Aoi has helped me so much, but I haven’t been able to do anything for her at all.” There was no calculation or self-interest in her expression—just kindness as she looked straight at me. “So I want to help her.”
And her smile was gentle but filled with determination. “I want to be friends with Aoi in the real sense.”
“…Yeah. I get it.”
And then Mimimi said mischievously, “Hey, Tomozaki, do you remember what led to us becoming friends?”
“Huh? That time we talked in the home-ec room?”
“Not that! What led to us becoming even better friends!” Happily, nostalgically, she said, “It was the student council!”
“…Ah.”
Even though she was talking about the past, Mimimi’s eyes were facing straight ahead. “Hey, Tomozaki. No—Brain!”
And then she said with energy:
✦ ✦ ✦
“Why don’t the two of us give it another shot? —The student council, I mean!”