“Yeah, you’re too concerned about your own proper image, I think.”
“I don’t…think we are? At least I’m not.”
I had never once thought that I was some kind of amazing person. Kawahara-san had made a grave misjudgment.
“I mean, it’s not that I think you think you’re a great person or whatever, but I think you’re probably always thinkin’ about bein’ the right way and doing the right thing. It’s more like, as people you’re trivial to yourselves.”
Trivial… To be fair, I had acted, felt, and lived my life in a trivial, meaningless way.
“Both you and Hiro-senpai are in different positions, but I think you both think it’s obvious that you could be living a better life. That’s just what occurred to me earlier. I mentioned her name because I thought that was weird, but, well, what I’m tryin’ to say is, what I should’ve said to Hiro-senpai yesterday was: Everyone’s empty inside. I’m empty too. And according to you, Tabata-san, so are you.”
“No, I…don’t think that’s…true.”
Instantly, I rejected her opinion. I had been breaking my own principles left and right since yesterday. However, that was how I truly felt. At this point, I even felt terrible for thinking that Kawahara-san was the same type of person as me.
For some reason, though, she grinned at me.
“It’s fine. When there’s somethin’ you’re lacking, you just need someone else to cover for you.”
“Is that…how it is, then?”
“Yeah, there’s always gonna be a senpai who’ll stick it out with you even after you get drunk and lose your cool and make a run for it.”
I could not comprehend or accept this logic, but I knew that she was trying to cheer me up, so I just said, “Thank you for the encouraging words,” forcing a smile.
“No, I’m just glad I have you to prop me up. Honestly, I was feelin’ a little in the dumps too.”
“Did something happen?”
There I went again shattering my own philosophies, stepping all over someone’s boundaries with my words. Crap, I thought, but she just gave me a strange little smile and asked, “You wanna hear about it?”
I nodded. She casually turned the helmet over in her hands once more.
“Moai’s gone.”
The words passed right in through one of my ears and out the other, before looping back around.
“…What?”
“Well, more accurately, it’s still around but seems like it’s gonna be dissolved. ’Least that’s what Hiro-senpai said at the meeting yesterday. Was kind of a shock really. I’ve had a lotta fun since joining.”
“Was that the university’s punishment?”
“Don’t think so. Seems like the school just imposed some penalty. Disbanding was Hiro-senpai’s decision.”
“…Huh.”
Was this her way of taking responsibility? For some reason, my throat began closing up again.
“Guess it got bad enough they had to tear it all down.”
“Well, hm, so actually, like, it seemed like it was a pretty sudden announcement and some decision Hiro-senpai just made when she was up there on the mic. Ten-san and the professors all lost their minds over it. Seems like that wasn’t what they discussed.”
“Wow…” What could that mean?
“I mean, I imagine that she’s got a lot of responsibilities as the head of the organization, a lot of weight on her shoulders that we can’t even imagine. But at the debrief, Hiro-senpai just looked so frustrated that I finally realized how seriously hard this stuff must be on her. Even though it’s a bit late for that.”
“So, Moai is being dissolved because that’s what the leader wants?”
Even knowing that, there was nothing I could do about it. Still, now that things had gotten this far, I couldn’t help but let a bit of worry into my voice.
“At the very least it seems like Hiro-senpai doesn’t want to be involved anymore. One of the juniors who was set to take over as representative starting next year was saying that if the group does disband, they might just start operating as a different organization, but apparently most folks still seem pretty uneasy about that idea.”
“…You’re basically just being abandoned,” I muttered.
Kawahara-san looked up at the sky again, mumbled a, “Hmm,” then said, “I suppose that’s true, but I do wonder if we’ll be okay without Hiro-senpai.”
There was some clear unease in the edges of her wry smile.
“Moai is run with the backing of a lot of alumni, but it’s usually Hiro-senpai who forges those relationships. So, on top of the management issues, I just don’t know if there’s anyone who could truly take her place,” she said, as though speaking about someone very dear to her. “I mean, she remembers the names and faces of every single member. After the debrief, she stood at the exit speaking to every single one of us. There were some people who weren’t into that, but like, she spoke to me directly, and even remembered one of my personal goals that I had brought up in conversation before and offered me encouragement. Even in a huge organization like that with so much hard work to do, I don’t think she ever wrote off even a single member.”
She looked up to the heavens again, as though honoring the dearly departed.
Seeing her like this, I was certain that said leader would be thrilled to be missed in this manner. That even if Moai were gone, in a way, things had still gone exactly as she had hoped. Now, she would be memorialized as the leader who had been beloved by everyone, even if she had to step down to take responsibility for a scandal. Whatever happened to her though, that was no longer any of my concern.
I no longer wished to have anything to do with such an empty person who caused me so much pain.
“So, that’s the sort of person who ran Moai.”
She never wrote off a single person, Kawahara-san said. Yet, long ago, had she not found she no longer had a use for the stand-in known as me? And in exchange for doing so, she had found far, far more stand-ins who affirmed her better than I ever had.
I suppose that was what it all came down to.
“Sorry, I’m just blabbing on about something you don’t even care about.”
“No, I’m sorry for asking something of you that was so hard to talk about.”
Whenever people apologized to me, I always ended up apologizing myself. The atmosphere still strange between us, we went our separate ways from the drugstore parking lot, respectfully of one another, neither of us with a smile.
I tried again not to think about anything as I rode my bike home. Once I arrived, opened the front door, and stepped inside my little box, I was able to relax a bit. Perhaps that was because it was normal for me to be alone here. Here, no one would realize how empty I was.
Except for myself, that is.
I turned on the lights, set down my bag, gargled in the bathroom, and then sat down on my chair in front of my computer. I had no reason in mind for doing this. It was merely that I always did the same thing every day—not going along with that flow would in and of itself seem to have some kind of intention.
On the desk was an unopened can of coffee that I had taken out and forgotten to drink. I popped open the can and took a sip. The low amount of added sugar was obvious in its taste. It suddenly occurred to me that this was the first liquid I had imbibed in a while.
I managed to finish the coffee without any of the fluids leaking out through the hole in my chest, then stood from my chair and opened the refrigerator, downing an oolong tea that was inside.
I sat down again and powered up my computer. There was nothing I really needed to do, but again, this was nothing more than me going through the usual motions. I casually checked my e-mail. There was nothing new of note beyond some self-help message from a job-hunting website. I had not opened the burner e-mails that I had made for the sake of job hunting and eliminating Moai in some time, nor did I intend to open them again at any point before the heat death of the universe. They would just be one more bit of flotsam lost to the digital ocean of the internet.