It was after school, and the day was bright.
A peaceful air flowed through the clubroom. After two days away, all the members of the Service Club were now present, myself included.
The after-school melodies reached us on a balmy breeze, with the air of early summer coming in from the open window. I knew it couldn’t change all that much in just a few days, but even so, the tones of the band club and the calls of runners felt somehow more in sync. Our mundane days were always continuously changing, bit by bit.
Even the clubroom of the Service Club was no exception.
The distance between our chairs, the length of a skirt, the number of words exchanged, the speed of turning pages—put measurements to any of these things, and they would just be petty differences, but they were clearly changing.
Of course, things that can’t be expressed in numbers will change, too.
The greatest example was the brightness of Komachi’s expression as she hummed and tappity-tapped on her smartphone. From my perspective as her older brother, it seemed like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, compared with how she’d been two days ago. But this wasn’t something that could be expressed in lux, candela, or lumens.
It was just a feeling.
Did that start last night? I thought, trying to remember, but unfortunately, my mental faculties had died the day before, so I couldn’t think of anything. However, I had no recollection of seeing her in low spirits, so I inferred something had happened after school the day before.
But if you were talking changes, the one most changed in the clubroom right then was Yukinoshita.
Yukinoshita, who normally would have been done making tea already, had still not gotten around to the task.
This was because she had spent the whole time studying Komachi, then Yuigahama, nodding and shaking her head all the while.
This was all about trying to find the right moment for the surprise present for Komachi.
I understand that feeling. I do, but calm down a little. It’s so fishy, and Isshiki seems suspicious. She’s really staring at you. Maybe she doesn’t like surprises?
Once it seemed like Isshiki was on the verge of asking Um, what are you doing? Yuigahama finally nodded at Yukinoshita a couple of times, giving her the go sign. Yukinoshita nodded triumphantly back as if to say, Leave it to me, swishing her hair off her shoulders. Then she rose to her feet and started to make the tea.
Without missing a beat, Yuigahama turned, chair and all, toward Komachi. “Komachi-chan, did you get a new hairpin? I don’t think I’ve seen that one before,” she said, drawing her attention.
“Ohhh? Really? Maybe ’cause it’s one Komachi hasn’t used in a while.”
“Let me see, let me see. Can I fiddle with your bangs, too?”
“Go ahead, go ahead.”
When Yuigahama beckoned, Komachi thrust her head toward her like a cat nuzzling you with one of those purr-meows, and before you know it, Yuigahama had expertly blocked Komachi’s field of vision.
Oh-ho, not bad there…, I thought, impressed. Meanwhile, Yukinoshita deftly prepared the tea.
Eventually, the water in the kettle came to a boil, and she began gracefully pouring the tea with neat movements. The familiar aroma wafted around, and a faint steam rose up.
She lined up a Western teacup, a mug, a paper cup, and a Japanese teacup, and then beside that, she placed a chic little box. Isshiki watched her carefully open the box. “Ohhh, that’s what it is,” she whispered, flickering a momentary glance at Komachi, who was still in kitty mode.
“Isshiki…,” I called to her quietly, and she glanced back at me. I gave her a little nod to say Yeah, yeah, it’s what you think it is and touched my index finger to my lips.
From that gesture, Isshiki must have understood completely, as she slowly nodded without a word. She gently tucked her flow of hair behind her ear, then touched that same finger to her glossy lips with a wink. Hmm, well, just nodding totally gets it across, so I’m okay here…
As I was busy getting flustered, Yukinoshita finished making the tea and poured it into each of our cups. “Go ahead.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
The Japanese cup was placed before me, and the paper cup in front of Isshiki. Then there was Yuigahama’s mug, the tea going to everyone in turn before, finally, to Komachi.
“Komachi. Go ahead,” Yukinoshita said, and Yuigahama popped away from in front of Komachi.
“Oh, thank you very… Hmm? Huh? Ohhh? Hmm?” Komachi did a double take at the black tea placed before her, then a triple take, making strange noises. “Um, this…” She was pointing, confused, at a mug decorated with a wild strawberry pattern in white and pastel green.
When Komachi fidgeted like she was worrying about whether she could touch it, Yukinoshita answered her with a nod. “It’s a bit late, but this is in celebration of your assuming the role of Service Club captain.”
“And for remaking the Service Club. Thanks.” Yuigahama smiled at her a little shyly.
Komachi looked between those two faces, then let out a breath. Maybe it was wonder, or maybe hesitation. “I-is this okay?”
“Yes,” Yukinoshita replied. “It wouldn’t look good for the club captain to be using a paper cup, now would it?”
“Yeah, use it kinda like—a proof of membership?” Yuigahama added.
At their urging, Komachi finally, gently touched the mug. She seemed to be testing the heat felt in her palm. Then she clasped it with nervous care in both hands. “Thank you so much…,” she said, bobbing her head in a bow that didn’t quite come up again. Then there was just the tiny sound of a sniffle.
Yukinoshita and Yuigahama looked at each other and exchanged gentle smiles. Isshiki was leaning her cheek on one hand, but her gaze was soft and approving.
I straightened in my seat and faced my sister. “Komachi.” I made an effort to address her in a level tone.
Komachi slowly raised her head, scrubbing at her face with the back of her hand. Her eyes were wet, but she was looking straight at me.
There were lots of things I wanted to express to her, that I wanted her to know.
Like that I was proud, that I was grateful, that I was sorry, and everything else.
There were also matters related to her taking over, and maybe some kind of advice, too. I had too many anxieties, worries, areas of concern, and things I wanted to pass down to her to count.
The Service Club is frankly a hassle made up of overcomplicated types bringing in trouble. After our graduation, Komachi might have a bad time of it. She might feel lonely sometimes, too. I’m sure there will be times when she wants to give up. I wish it were possible for her to only experience the good times here, but I’m sure it won’t be like that.
But I think including the good, the bad, the awful, the painful, the bitter, the frustrating, the sad, and everything else is what makes it the Service Club.
At first, you wonder, What the heck is this club?—but before you know it, you feel like it’s hard to leave.
You think, I could never do club stuff with someone like that—but then you come to feel irresistibly drawn to them.
Nobody else could know, but just one person—just you—knows that sentimentality.