“Stop that,” I warned the girl sitting beside me, who was busy gawking back, her attention caught by the noise. At my warning, perhaps realizing that others could see what she was doing, Iguchi quickly put her eyes back down to her paper. I was relieved that she wouldn’t draw any more attention to herself than she already had.
Yano’s standing in our class had been wrought both by the members of our class and by Yano herself, but naturally there were those among us who did not actively display any ill will towards her.
The worst offender was Iguchi. Compared to Yano, Iguchi was friendly with everyone, a kind girl who would lavish anyone but Yano with smiles. Though Iguchi tried to hide it—which was probably the wisest decision, I knew—she constantly kept an eye on Yano when she was being bullied, fretting over whether the others might be overdoing it.
That said, she was still on the class’s side rather than Yano’s. While I was usually content to ignore Yano, I couldn’t help but notice Iguchi’s nervous face. Honestly, it might be easier for her if someone else definitively decided her side for her. All that dithering must have caused her a ton of stress. Not that it was any of my business, though.
Science class proceeded normally, without incident. If something was happening where I couldn’t see it, then I didn’t need to know about it. All I needed to do was sit with my group members and focus on learning about hereditary traits.
It’s not like things ever get too out of hand in these situations. At the very worst, sometimes people’s belongings were damaged, or people got a bit hurt. The most that usually happened in our class was that something belonging to Yano got soaked or dirtied. She had suffered a fair few injuries, sure, but they were always total accidents, brought on by her own clumsiness. Nobody’s fault but her own. There was never any violence that anyone could see.
Everyone in class was clever enough to make sure.
Thus, what happened after science class really couldn’t be defined as an “incident.” Way too strong a word. Things just got a little out of hand, that’s all.
Yano was walking several meters ahead of me in the hallway, en route back to the classroom. There were a number of other students walking in the same direction in the space between me and her. This distance was not by chance. I had slackened my pace just a little, so that even if she were to suddenly stumble again, no one could say that I’d kicked her. So far, the plan was a success. I felt pretty comfortable with how far apart we were.
…And that was why I grew careless.
I was talking with the other boys about a TV show that had aired the day before. Something that Yano had been juggling back and forth went tumbling out of her hands. The tri-colored object—blue, black, and white—was more than likely an eraser.
I caught this moment in the dead center of my sight. And though it was faint, I let slip a small “Oh.” That was no good. My voice drew the gaze of everyone else around.
Yano didn’t crouch down today. There was no need for her to do so.
I’m sure that she didn’t mean much by it, but…
It was Iguchi.
Straying apart from a group of girls she’d been walking with, Iguchi found herself right behind Yano. Perhaps unintentionally, perhaps reflexively, she picked the eraser up off the ground.
Don’t do it! I thought, but it was too late to stop her.
Iguchi was probably stunned herself. Maybe she only realized what she had done once she’d already done it. She locked eyes with Yano, who turned around and froze for several seconds.
Ignoring someone is like a habit or custom. At first, you have to do it intentionally, but as you become accustomed to it, it becomes natural to act like they aren’t even there. Eventually your body ignores them all on its own, like it’s second nature.
Iguchi had yet to acquire the habit of ignoring Yano. On the contrary, she was a slave to a different kind of habit—the common courtesy of picking up something that someone else has dropped. That was the kind of heart she had, a natural kindness that made little gestures like that as easy as breathing.
Thus—unfortunately—she happened to pick up the eraser that had fallen right in front of her.
Iguchi was still frozen, eye-to-eye with Yano. Without thinking, I stopped walking as well.
Yano held her right hand outstretched stupidly to Iguchi, with a lively “Thank…you!”
Then she snatched the eraser from Iguchi’s hand, turned on her heel, and walked on.
From behind Yano’s back, the girls of our class stared at the two of them. Their eyes suggested they had just spotted yet another cockroach. I have no idea what expression was on Iguchi’s face, but you didn’t have to think very hard to know why she blurted out a thin “It’s not like that” just a moment later.
A momentary silence fell over the hallway—a short grace period for Iguchi to make some sort of excuse. However, she stayed silent. She probably couldn’t come up with anything to say.
And then the spell was broken. Time began to flow once more. The girls up ahead began walking towards the classroom, discussing something or other, and we followed behind them. Yano proceeded at her own pace, as always. She resumed her juggling, not much caring how many times she’d failed at it.
And Iguchi just stood there as everyone left her behind.
I wondered if she would be okay.
It was unfortunate, but while I worried for her, it was nothing that I was about to obsess over.
It happened after school that day. After Yano, as always, left the classroom with a “Bye, ev…eryone,” without stopping to talk with anyone.
That was when the girls of our class surrounded Iguchi.
It happened on the far end of classroom, so I couldn’t hear what they were saying. All I know is that Iguchi was vehemently denying something, looking as though she was about to cry.
This sure went south, I thought to myself, as I prepared to leave. She messed up.
Not about to step in between the girls or anything clever like that, I elected to leave the classroom with Kasai and the others.
After we stepped out into the hall and passed by another classroom, Kasai tilted his head.
“Did Igu-chan do somethin’?”
Right, Kasai hadn’t been there when it all went down.
“Iguchi happened to pick up something that Yano dropped,” I explained, trying as best as I possibly could to imply that Iguchi was not the one at fault. Hearing that, the other guys laughed. “Gross! Yano cooties!”
The corners of Kasai’s mouth dipped. “What, seriously?”
He seemed displeased. Probably not over what Iguchi had done, I reasoned, but simply from hearing Yano’s name. Yet as soon as we arrived at our shoe lockers, his temperament completely shifted. “Oh, that reminds me,” he said, with an air that suggested he had suddenly remembered something far more interesting. “Wanna go see the baseball clubroom?”
“The baseball club? Why?”
At my frank question, Kasai began to laugh. “What? I thought you were the one who told me about it, Acchi. Guess I was wrong. Anyway, apparently a window got broken in the baseball clubroom. Last night.”
“Last night?”
“Yeah, some guy probably threw a rock through it as a prank or something.”
Night. A prank. The baseball club window.
No way. It couldn’t be.
“Hm, what’s with that face, Acchi? Are you the culprit?”
Alarmed at Kasai’s grin, I quickly forced my expression into one of vague displeasure.
“Like hell I am. I was just wonderin’ who’d be that stupid.”
An eerie sense of premonition was spreading throughout my whole body. I got the feeling I knew exactly who that stupid criminal was. She hadn’t been there when I arrived at the classroom the night before.
Was she really off just laying a little frog to rest? Could she actually have been off seeking vengeance for it along the way?
Nervously, though there was really no reason to be nervous, we decided to change from our indoor shoes to our athletic shoes and go check out the baseball clubroom.
The baseball clubroom adjoined the soccer and rugby clubrooms, down at the far end of the wide field shared by various sports clubs. From a distance, they all looked like one big massive block. As we approached, we could see a sheet of cardboard tacked on to the window frame. A club member was coming out of the room at that very moment, someone who happened to be a friend of Kasai’s. After we hollered at him, he explained that their club adviser had put the cardboard up that morning.
Though we’d come with no great expectations, our enthusiasm waned, and we decided to head home. We greeted our other classmates as we passed them by, received the customary “Later,” “See ya,” or “Yeah” in return, but just as we crossed the entrance, our eyes stopped on a small girl who was exiting, her eyes to the ground.
Her spirit was broken. There was no other way to describe her. As I considered how to address the girl, mindful of the eyes of the other girls around, Kasai waved his hand.
“Later, Igu-chan!”
Hearing Kasai’s lively voice, Iguchi weakly lifted her head and smiled, replying with a “Later” that suggested nothing less than utter exhaustion.
The feeble little smile on her face was pure heartbreak.
But still, that was Kasai for you. When he waved at her again, saying, “See ya!” as though he knew nothing about earlier, Iguchi’s strange smile deepened a little more.
As we walked away, I told Kasai, “You really shouldn’t bother her like that.”
Kasai replied, laughing, “It’s not like Igu-chan is seriously friends with that girl.”
If only I could be like Kasai, I thought—but in the end, I still did nothing.