The Summit Drawing Ceremony took place at a private school located in Shinjuku, and it took about two hours to travel from Niigata to Tokyo by bullet train. Since the ceremony began at 2:00 pm, the five members of the Meikun High School Social Game Club met up and boarded before noon.
Owing to the fact that it was a normal weekday, the non-reserved section of the train was fairly vacant. Nanaka and Aya sat together, with Kai and Aina in the seat behind them. Behind those two, Eru sat alone.
Aina had been staring out the window for a while, but as they entered a dark tunnel, she finally opened her mouth. “How long are you going to leave her like that?” she asked quietly, so that only Kai could hear her.
“...Are you going to tell us what happened?” he countered.
Aina continued to stare out the window and into the dark walls of the tunnel. Without so much as turning around, she said with a laugh, “But! But! I didn’t do anything! Eru’s just mad at me for no reason... but, you know... I’m sure it’s not her fault. There was probably a misunderstanding somewhere—would you believe me if I said that?”
“...Sorry,” Kai told her. “I think I worded that wrong.”
“It’s not about how you worded it,” Aina quipped. “You’re asking the wrong person.”
“That’s not something I can do,” Kai admitted. “I’m leaving it to Nanaka-san.”
“Huh, you’re more businesslike than I thought,” Aina observed. “Not like I have anything against that.”
Kai would have considered sitting next to Eru had they not crossed paths at the supermarket the day before. But at this point, it was clear that doing so would have been a pointless waste of his time. In that case, he thought...
“I don’t know whether or not what you just said is true,” he began. “And... as rude as it is for me to say so, I don’t think I can trust you.”
“...Well, isn’t that natural?” Aina retorted. “I think it’d be weirder to trust someone so easily.”
“But that’s because I still don’t know much about you,” he said, locking eyes with her reflection in the dark window. “The time I spend talking to you has the same amount of value as the time I spend talking to Kuroba-san... I think.”
...I won’t know if I don’t talk to them, Kai told himself, although there wasn’t any guarantee that he’d come to understand either girl through conversation. He also worried that he might add pressure to someone’s personal struggles, as he had when inadvertently exposing Nanaka’s insecurities as an illustrator.
But, he thought, if I had gone one step further... If I had confronted each and every one of her tears more seriously... Even today, that thought continued to follow him. Whenever he laid in bed, kept up by his thoughts, Kai would always think back to Nanaka’s tearful face, lit by the setting sun. He knew that all the ‘what-ifs’ in his mind would never amount to anything, which was exactly why he was determined to face his current troubles head on.
“...You’re such a...” Aina trailed off midway through speaking, shifting her gaze from the window to eye him suspiciously for a moment. “Humph,” she said, turning back to the glass. As she did so, the train exited the tunnel, and she remained silent until they arrived in Tokyo.
✦ ✦ ✦
The group changed trains at Tokyo Station to ride the Chuo Line until Shinjuku. Whether it was the middle of a workday or not, Tokyo was always overflowing with people, and Shinjuku especially so. They mistakenly headed for the south gate, only to find themselves at the east gate, and after much confusion they finally exited via the west gate.
They reached their final destination after ten minutes or so of walking, and promptly entered an elevator upon arrival. After getting off at their floor, they found a large set of double doors a short distance away. There was a receptionist directly in front of the entrance who said, “Please wear this inside the venue,” as he handed each one of them a neck strap. The strap had a clear pocket dangling off of it containing an identification card that listed their names and school.
On the other side of the double doors was a large university lecture hall, complete with rows of terraced seating. It seemed that each high school in attendance had their own assigned seats, so they quickly found the spot reserved for Meikun High and sat down.
“This is kinda exciting,” Nanaka said giddily as she took the seat next to Kai.
“...You mean, the drawing?” he asked.
“No, not that,” she said with a small laugh. “This is my first time ever visiting a college classroom.”
“Huh... I see.”
“You seem pretty calm about it.”
“But now that you’ve mentioned it, it’s sort of on my mind.” Kai looked around to see that the hall was now almost at capacity. The differing uniforms sitting side by side gave off a subtle aura of tension. That’s probably why Nanaka-san’s speaking so softly, he thought.
“College, huh...” Nanaka mumbled. “Kai-kun, what are you gonna do after graduating? Work? University?”
“...University, I think.”
“Are you gonna go back to Tokyo for that?” she questioned.
“...I haven’t sat down to think about it yet, but probably.” Previously, Akane had told Kai that she’d slip his name to the recruiters at Tricolore Games... However, there was no realistic chance that he’d get a job like that.
The reason Akane had been invited to such a meritocratic company was because she herself had slowly racked up a great deal of achievements—not because someone had simply recommended her.
Shiraseki Kai did not have such achievements. Thus, he refused to buy into the fantasy that some company would send him an offer prior to graduation, which meant that he’d need higher education.
When it came to social games, a good chunk of the fresh hires made by the IT industry centered around college graduates. There were a handful of companies that accepted new recruits directly out of high school, but those were primarily for skilled illustrators or programmers. In essence, they wanted specialized experience, and it was uncommon for planners to fall under that umbrella.
On top of that, most game development companies were based in Tokyo. Thinking ahead to his future job hunt, it wouldn’t make sense to choose a university anywhere else—the cost of travel and lodging would rack up quickly. For example, if he were to go to college in Niigata, he’d have to use 20,000 yen on a round trip bullet train per interview. He couldn’t justify spending that much every time he got further into a company’s selection process. There were some companies that would recompense travel expenses, but that wasn’t something he could consistently rely on.
As a result, the most pragmatic choice was to find a school in Tokyo. Kai thought logically, chose logically, and decided on his future logically, which almost made it sound as though he was a prudent decision-maker. But... frankly, that decision was merely a process of elimination. It wasn’t anything to be proud of.
After Kai summed up his explanation to Nanaka, she shook her head at him. “That’s not true... You’re amazing,” she told him. “I don’t have any other friends who’ve thought about their future like you.”
“Amazing...? No way. I’m so worthless that I have to think about my future to make it work.”
“Kai-kun,” Nanaka said as she pointed a finger directly in front of Kai’s nose. “‘—Do not submit yourself to inadequacy,’ right?”
“...Right,” he mumbled.
“Haha, Akane-san is amazing, too.”
“What about you, Nanaka-san? College?”
“...I haven’t thought about it properly, either... but, probably. But I think, instead of college, I think I’d be okay with a trade school for game development,” said Nanaka. “After all, there’s too many things about making a game that I don’t understand at all. I’d like to go to Tokyo, too... but my parents want me to try to get into a national university back home, so that might be a bit tough. It’s not like I’m that smart,” she concluded with an awkward laugh. As if to overwrite her statement, the entrance to the lecture hall blew open with a loud slam!
The man who walked through the doorway was built like a pro wrestler, probably in his mid-thirties. His black leather jacket was unzipped and a decal of an anime character peeked out from the t-shirt beneath it. He had donned a pair of sunglasses, and the top of his head had been shaven bald.
The long stride of his torn jeans was accompanied by a loud thud with each step. He walked all the way to the back of the room—where the lecturer’s podium was located—and sat down there, with his legs crossed. He removed his sunglasses to reveal a mean glare, and his unshaven mouth twisted into an unpleasant smile.
After refusing a microphone from an event organizer, he began speaking. “Ahem. Welcome, all of you, and well done for making it on time. The guy who’s supposed to be here caught a summer cold, so I’ll be standing in as the judge. I’m Hifumi Tetsuma. I usually work as a producer at a company called Tricolore Games, but all that crap about me doesn’t matter.”