Once we graduate high school, we’re certified as ordinary people.
But the moment you drop out, you’re done for. Nobody cares what led to that decision. It’s a permanent blot on your résumé. Dropout is synonymous with social outcast, with shut-in. That’s how it’s viewed through the hostile lens of public perception anyway.
A whole lot of people in this world understand that and are able to stifle the demands of their hearts.
Some random student dropping out wasn’t going to change a thing. We were all just cogs in the machine called Saigou High, and today was just another day in our lives.
“…The festival is almost here, but that’s no excuse to act out. That will be all. Rise!”
The teacher wrapped up the day’s homeroom, and everyone in Class 2-5 bowed, then we began to shift the desks and chairs to the side of the room. My classmates were getting good at this routine, and so was I. It was time to work on our festival preparations.
“This is the last banner! Stay motivated, and let’s get this done!”
“Hell yeah! I’m gonna paint the crap out of this thing!”
We were several days into the week, and Kurumi still hadn’t shown up.
There was a void in my life. I went to class, ate lunch, went back to class. After school, I helped with festival preparations, and then I went home. The next day I did it all over again. I felt numb.
Two things from the past kept popping back into my mind, freezing my heart.
The first was Kurumi’s and my plan to hijack the broadcast booth. We wanted to get revenge on the school, but if we did that, we would have been hurting people in the same predicament we were in.
I’d wanted to get revenge while saving those like me, but that was easier said than done. What Kurumi and I talked about on the roof was mere idealism, and once I understood that, it dampened the flames in my heart.
The second was Kurumi. The more time passed, the more my feelings about what had happened between us changed into an angry kind of disappointment. I understood that she’d felt pressure as the time of her withdrawal approached. But why hadn’t she just said what she meant? Crying wasn’t going to help anything.
On the roof, I’d found myself admiring Kurumi Hoshimiya. Was this really all she had to offer? That left me cold, too.
I’d been right all along. Those who seek revenge never get happy endings. Our story was going to end here, with a whimper—but that was reality for you. My ideals were nothing more than ideals. The school was never going to change.
But that didn’t mean I’d gained nothing over the last month and a half. Teaming up with Kurumi and striving toward our unreachable goal had been fun. Our resistance would stay with me the rest of my life. It had gotten me through my exams. If I felt like it, I could maintain passing grades. I could be an ordinary student and survive the rot of Saigou High. Another year and a half, and then I’d be free. It was good enough, and that brief dream had made it bearable.
“Hey, Natsume.”
As the other students began working on the banners, I stayed standing in one corner of the room. Tanaka saw me and called out.
“Are you okay? You look upset.”
She seemed worried. She really kept an eye on the people around her.
That’s right. I’ve got Tanaka as a friend now. I’m no longer all alone in class. Surviving this garbage school should be a little easier now.
“…Yeah, I’ve just…got a lot on my mind,” I said.
Tanaka looked surprised. Then she dropped her gaze to the floor and whispered, “Oh.”
It sounded like she’d given up on something.
“No matter how painful it is, time heals all wounds,” she said. She patted me on the shoulder, then went back to the other girls.
I stayed behind and watched her go, then allowed myself another sigh.