She cringed in embarrassment to hear herself say it. She lowered her gaze, but Nayuta said flatly, “That’s just crazy.” Azusa looked up again. Her classmate smiled at her. “If that’s how it is, I won’t tell anyone, and you can eat whatever you want. But, Higaki, you’re not fat.”
Nayuta was looking at Azusa’s body as she spoke. “I guess it might seem that way, because your figure has curves.” She spoke with simple candor, and it made Azusa feel a little better. She herself was well aware that her weight was normal for her age. Compared with Mizuki and her model’s body, Azusa might seem heavy, but nobody would call her overweight.
“Th-thank you.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for. Oh, and don’t worry, I won’t tell Murai, either.”
As Nayuta spoke, Azusa’s stomach started to hurt again.
“Um, Mizuki, she…that’s, I mean…”
Should I apologize? I never tried to stop Mizuki and her crowd from saying what they did, not even once. The words got stuck in her throat. But as Azusa struggled to say what she was thinking, Nayuta’s expression took on a bored look. She picked up her can and drank the remaining coffee.
“It doesn’t matter. None of it makes any difference.”
Azusa was surprised at how Nayuta spoke, as if she was trying to push her away. Her coffee finished, Nayuta stood. She tossed the can in the rubbish bin. Then she turned around.
“I don’t care what they say. There are more important things to do than worry about what other people think. I don’t want to be sorry later that I missed something really important because I was focused on things that didn’t matter.”
Nayuta said this in a firm voice, and then she left. She came into view again a little later, riding away on a bicycle. As Azusa watched her go, she mulled over what Nayuta had said. Am I too focused on what other people think? I don’t think so, but I guess it’s possible. When Nayuta said that to her, Mizuki instantly came to mind. Azusa didn’t always worry too much about what Mizuki thought or felt, did she? Well, actually, she did. There was a time, once, when she had done exactly that, and look what happened then.
Professor Kiriyama, why did you take this job? It was something that had happened during the summer holidays last year, a question Azusa had asked her instructor at the juku. Why in the world had she said a thing like that?
The instructor, whom Mizuki had hated, was a mild-mannered man.
“He has no ambition, and doesn’t care about his job,” Mizuki said, fuming. “Our parents pay for us to be there, and it’s not cheap. We make the effort to be there for class, and we depend on the instructors to teach us. I think it’s weird for him to act like it’s such a chore. I won’t stand for that kind of attitude in class.” When she heard from someone that he liked to draw, she was dismissive: “A teacher should love teaching. Anything else is weird.”
Just like at school, Mizuki was the center of attention at the juku as well, and none of her friends there would dare disagree with her. So on that day, when Mizuki said everyone should tell the teacher face to face that he should rethink his classroom attitude, nobody tried to stop it, and a group of students surrounded Kiriyama. Azusa was among them, as usual.
The group was having fun, laughing as they imagined the look on their teacher’s face when they confronted him, but once they were actually standing before Kiriyama, and when he spoke to them in his kind voice, they faltered. Although they generally agreed with Mizuki, none of them were seriously concerned about the classwork. They were just going along with her for the fun of it.
In truth, Azusa liked Kiriyama’s classes. Although he wasn’t as upbeat as some of the other instructors and didn’t tell jokes or anything like that, his careful and deliberate teaching style suited Azusa well. But she couldn’t say anything like that to Mizuki. She had never even considered going against Mizuki, ever.
So once Kiriyama was there in front of them, everyone exchanged nervous looks. Azusa was just thinking that it would probably be best for everyone concerned if they didn’t go through with it and left things as they were, when there was a whisper in her ear. It was Kanako.
“Sometimes you should speak up, Azusa. It’s lame to spend all your time hiding in Mizuki’s shadow.”
Startled, Azusa turned to see Kanako’s malicious grin. I don’t hide in Mizuki’s shadow! She was about to say as much, but then it occurred to her that some of their other friends might feel the same way, so she shut her mouth. After all, I’m Mizuki’s oldest friend, and she does look after me, so nobody would openly attack me, but still…But still, Azusa thought, it wouldn’t be strange if that bothered them. And maybe Mizuki, too. How could Azusa say for sure that any of them didn’t think so?
Even Mizuki might be annoyed with me. The thought of that really scared her, and before she knew it, she had opened her big mouth.
“This class is no fun at all, and you’re not even trying. It feels like you’re just here for the paycheck.”
For a moment, the girls were all in a flutter. Azusa usually just stood by quietly, an accessory to Mizuki, but now she was lighting the fire. Then, as if a switch was turned on, they all began attacking Kiriyama, criticizing him about this or that. Azusa heaved a deep sigh of relief as Mizuki patted her on the back.
“Way to go, Azusa! You said everything I wanted to say, just like my oldest friend should!” Mizuki congratulated her happily and Azusa smiled back at her awkwardly, thinking, Well, obviously. Don’t I always?
Kiriyama looked shocked for a moment, but then laughed.
“I’ll try to be a little more careful in the future.”
His response was gentle as always, and he saw them off in the usual way, saying, “Get home safely.” Everyone seemed a little bit bored after that, but Azusa was deeply relieved. Good. It wasn’t a big thing. She started to feel as if what she had said wasn’t so serious after all.
But then Kiriyama quit his job and left the juku. The other teachers said it had something to do with a family matter, but Azusa thought that was unlikely. She was almost positive Kiriyama left because of their critical comments. And the person who made that happen was me, and nobody else. I changed Kiriyama’s life. When she said so to Mizuki, full of remorse, the latter replied, “I’m glad you did. We did the right thing then, and you said the right thing. I don’t feel the least bit guilty about any of it.”
But she couldn’t stop asking herself questions. Why did Kanako’s words goad me on like that? Why didn’t I try to stop Mizuki from saying we should talk to Kiriyama? Azusa thought Mr. Kiriyama was a relatively good teacher, and if she had said so, things might have gone differently.
There was a sudden noise, and Azusa snapped out of her reverie. She looked around. The boy with the comic book had finished his meal and was getting ready to go. He quickly disposed of his rubbish and then took off. Listlessly, Azusa stared at the table in front of her. There was the cake parfait, now warm and soggy. She had been so excited to eat it, but suddenly she had lost her appetite. She dumped the remains in a plastic bag and stuffed it in the bin.