Chapter 8

On the blackboard, in large letters slanting slightly upward toward the right, the class rep had written: 1-A CULTURAL-FEST IDEAS. Once a week, homeroom lasted an entire class period, so the students used a third of their “long homeroom” to brainstorm for the cultural festival, but so far all they’d come up with was basic festival stuff: a haunted house, a yakisoba noodle stall, and a shooting gallery. Crepes, buttered potatoes, and shaved ice had all been floated, although they were met with cries of “What is this? A date?” That immediately produced a chorus of “I want a girlfriend!” and “We should do something girls will want to come to!” All the suggestions that came out of the attempt to target the female demographic, though, seemed misguided to Kagiura. When a guy didn’t have a girlfriend, his ideas about women could start to deviate from reality. Given that they went to an all-boys school, there were pitifully few students who found girlfriends in their first term. It was even less likely for those living in the girl-bereft dormitory, and it was no different for Kagiura. Not that he particularly wanted a girlfriend at that point anyway. He’d dated someone for a few months during middle school, but it had been nothing but nerves for both of them and had ended awkwardly. He knew a few guys here who were in relationships. They had snapped up whomever they could find, and the women were cute and sweet; Kagiura could see why someone might like them. But they seemed so intent on acting lovey-dovey that he could never quite seem to approach them. It was probably around then that Kagiura realized that when he thought of a significant other—someone he would want to spend his future with—he tended to picture his parents. They seemed less like a husband and wife, and more like a jovial pair of best friends. It was nothing obvious, like them being sappy all the time or giving up everything for each other or anything like that. They had four children together, and maybe that was proof enough of their intimacy, but in any case, one got the sense that they would have been fast friends even if they had been the same sex. Kagiura imagined someone who would be courageous enough to give him a push if there was a path he wanted to take and loving enough to wait eagerly for him to come home again. Someone with whom he could spend calm, cheerful days, without having to put on an act or force anything. Once he realized his parents were his relationship goals, he also decided he didn’t want to just play around in relationships that wouldn’t go anywhere. Not that he had ever been one for frivolous dates but having already learned from experience that it took more than passion to make things work, he naturally found himself willing to wait and see whom he would connect with. He wanted to be like his mom, who would ask his dad “Do you want some, too?” whenever she was having a cup of tea. He wanted to be like his dad, who would come home with his mom’s favorite snacks on a random evening, just because. “Anyone have any other ideas? If not, we’ll pick from what we’ve got by majority vote.” Just before the voting began, something popped into Kagiura’s head. “Oh, I know! How about yakitori?” He remembered Hirano mentioning that he liked yakitori. Maybe he’d be happy to be able to have some during the cultural fest. That thought put a note of cheerfulness into Kagiura’s voice, and his idea garnered several exclamations of “Mmm, yakitori!” A debate started among the students. “Would we need to cook it?” “I think they sell frozen stuff at the wholesale supermarket.” “Where the heck would we keep it?” “We could each take some of it. If we bring it in the morning of, we could let it thaw during the day.” “But do we do tare sauce? Salted? Both?” “They both sound so good…” The notion of trying to get girls to show up was forgotten, replaced by thoughts of satisfying the students’ growling stomachs. High school boys do get hungry, after all. They can eat breakfast, a morning snack, and lunch, then grab a bite after class and still take an extra-large helping of rice at dinner. With the student athletes, it was even worse, and Kagiura was no exception; he spent the majority of his monthly allowance on snacks. With the majority vote falling firmly in favor of grilled chicken, the homeroom teacher, who had been watching the discussion play out, got slowly to his feet. “Food stalls are pretty competitive—lots of classes want to do them. And a yakitori place would have to be set up outside, so you’d need materials that could handle the elements. It’ll be tough to get this one approved if you don’t plan very carefully. I’d suggest deciding on a second choice as a plan B. Kagiura—it was your idea. You want to be our representative for the Cultural Festival Committee and brave the audition?” He hesitated for only a second. It wasn’t about whether he was cut out for it—his mind’s eye was already full of Hirano’s grinning face. “Gladly, sir,” he said, nodding firmly. “I know you’re busy with team activities, Kagiura,” the teacher said. “Might be good for you to find some helpers.” Kagiura immediately looked at Niibashi in the seat beside his. Niibashi might be a real talker, but he was meticulous and excelled at whatever he set out to do. Kagiura was sure there’d be no miscommunication or missed deadlines with Niibashi at his side. Not to mention that with his confidence, Niibashi was exactly the person to help pull off an event like this. The perfect ally—as far as Kagiura was concerned—for anything that would involve negotiations. “What’s that? You want me to help? Well, I suppose you’ve got me… I know you can’t do paperwork to save your life,” Niibashi said. He might have acted annoyed, but his immediate willingness spoke to how close they had grown as they got to know each other over the past few months. A hand shot up in the back of the classroom. “How many representatives can we have, sir? If you can be a rep and be on the committee at the same time, I’ll be happy to do it,” someone said. He was followed by several more people volunteering their time. Ultimately, the class chose four representatives for the Cultural Festival Committee, including Kagiura (the idea man) and Niibashi (his assistant). The committee’s first meeting would be after class the next day; they would explain the materials and how to fill out the application paperwork. The four young men looked pained when they found out they would also have to help examine setups and tools, but it was too late to back out now. Homeroom moved on to the next subject—namely, summer lectures and practice tests, topics that seemed intended to bring down Kagiura’s mood. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t seem to escape exams. He resolved to ask Hirano for some advice when he got back to the dorm, about both the festival and the tests. Hirano was a diligent student, and turning to him seemed likely to be much more profitable than complaining to his basketball team and getting some childish encouragement. Come to think of it, I wonder what Hirano’s class is doing for the festival, Kagiura thought, and closed his eyes. He could still see a faint image of Hirano’s smiling face. He wanted to tour the festival stalls with him, a skewer of delicious yakitori in his hand. It must have been the sunlight pouring through the window that made him imagine Hirano in a light-colored yukata—the classic summer-festival image.