The spring was coming to an end, and the scent of early summer was beginning to waft in the air.
In the courtyard below the aerial walkway, new green budded at the ends of the tree branches, which were softly swaying in the refreshing breeze. All the white flower petals had left the cherry trees, but the green was still too slight to say the trees were in leaf. Once that green grew a little denser, the “new school year” mood would settle down.
Around this time of year, clear lines were drawn between those who had managed to build relationships due to an inherent ability to get along, those who had managed to turn over a new leaf and start a better life in high school, and those who hadn’t managed to fit in well and chose to commit to noble lonerdom.
Though you can’t generalize to say which side of this deal is the better one.
Even if you do have someone to talk to or someone to pair up with in gym class, that’s not necessarily fortunate. Building a relationship with someone also often means touching the fetters of obligation that person bears.
Friendships are not made up of a single friend unit. Whether you like it or not, you’re also forced into second-degree contact with their relationships—such as a friend of a friend, or a friend’s girlfriend, or someone your friend hates.
You can’t be mean to people your friends are close to; if your friend has a girlfriend, you’ll show at least some consideration for her; and it’s also difficult to be friends with someone your own friend hates. Those who know this discomfort might say being alone is preferable.
And yet I was currently immobilized by such fetters in my new class.
Since seat numbers are assigned based on syllabic order, in most classes aside from electives, I almost always get stuck next to Hayato Hayama. It’s a lot of trouble to manage. As for what that trouble is—it’s the fact that Ebina often talks with Hayama, which brings her near me.
Nobody is harder to deal with than someone you’re only somewhat acquainted with.
Well, I have gotten somewhat used to Hayama, so it’s not so bad with him.
We both just selfishly talk at each other, with no expectation of establishing any proper communication. Since neither of us really listens to what the other says, any sudden silences aren’t really uncomfortable.
Ultimately, we just assume we each understand what the other is really thinking and monologue back and forth, so conversation and silence mean basically the same thing.
If you think about it that way, then my conversations with Hayama are less to worry about.
…But in those odd moments when I wind up alone with Ebina, I really don’t know what to do.
I have no idea what topics might be sensitive for her, so when she suddenly falls silent, I wonder if I said something wrong. Times like that, I always find myself thinking, Hayama! Hurry and get over here!
Well, from my experience with Hayama and Ebina in second year, I’ve somewhat managed to figure out how to interact with them.
The problem is people other than Hayama.
It goes without saying at this point, but Hayama will always attract attention. Not only during breaks, but in classes like gym and stuff where there tends to be downtime, people often approach him to chat. My adjacent seat number often results in me getting incorporated into that circle.
Maybe they were enthusiastic about making new friends because it was a new semester, or maybe it was because all our classmates were friendly people, but whenever I was going hard into silent Jizo statue mode, they tried to be considerate and involve me in the conversation when they were chatting with Hayama. Like an afterthought.
Frankly, it can be brutal making conversation just for the sake of filling out awkward moments with people whose names I couldn’t quite place—but even I am merely human. I would feel bad to disregard the kindness of others.
And so, every time they tried to involve me, I’d generally just find the right moments to place a “Yeah, I dunno,” “Not like I know,” “Whoa,” “It’s hard to explain,” “For sure” on the metaphorical conveyor belt of conversation, somehow getting through it by milking the sort of conversational skills anyone can manage.
When you do this, just about everyone will give you an awkward look: This really isn’t going anywhere… You can’t even get a discussion going. It’s like their communication skills are massively underdeveloped. If I can manage to talk with these socially awkward people, then I can finally call myself a skilled communicator, huh? And, like, maybe I’ll be able to manage by the time I have to get a job?
Anyway, this sort of rhythm-game-esque garbage conversation often generates a silence. And it’s Hayama and Ebina who fill up that space.
Thanks to them, I’ve come to be known as “the guy Hayama and Ebina are babysitting.”
Considering I’d gotten the absolute worst pull in the class gacha (where you can’t reinstall and try again), I could call this a surprisingly smooth start. The bar is real low, huh…?
Once you reach your third year of high school, you don’t expect much from relationships with your classmates.
I figured the world never really changes; so long as time went by with no major mishaps, I was fine with that—a sort of pseudo-enlightened resignation. But this is ultimately the view of someone who has grown world-weary, worn, and frayed at the edges.
Then what about the new boys and girls at our school? I thought, suddenly curious about how my own little sister, Komachi Hikigaya, was faring in her new life.
She had entered Soubu High School that spring to officially become my junior, but I couldn’t possibly know the whole picture of her time at school. Of course, I did see her at our club, and we did have a variety of talks about things at home, but I didn’t know how she was doing in her class.
She had eagerly put on her uniform for a solo fashion show during spring break, and once school started, she’d been humming cheerily as she made her commute with me. But lately, I’d gotten the impression her giddiness had settled quite a bit.
No matter what sort of new life you start, with each passing day, its vividness will turn into something more peaceful.
Especially with high school, when you’re cooped up in one room seeing the same faces of your classmates every day, you come to remember their names at least vaguely, and you get a grasp of their modes of life based on the bits of conversations they have or the kinds of things they do during breaks.
Once a month or so has passed, you get the gist of their superficial personalities and the positions they occupy in the class, and relationships in general start to firm up.
I wasn’t that worried about Komachi, given how good she is with people, but still, worrying is just what a big brother does.
All righty then, however is Komachi doing at school? I wondered as I headed off to the Service Club.
My fingers touched the clubroom door, and when I opened it with a rattle, there was Komachi, resting her chin on her hand and absentmindedly gazing out the window.
✦ ✦ ✦
