The next day was the eve of the festival. Lunch was just wrapping up.
As the rest of the school busied itself with rehearsals, our class was basking in success.
“All our banners are done! Great work, everyone!” the girl in charge exclaimed.
The other students cheered and clapped.
The most recently completed banner was spread out on the floor. It had a bright blue background, with big block letters reading, “Traditions and Connections!” That was the motto of this year’s festival.
This was the third and final banner. And with its completion, Class 2-5’s preparations were all finished.
“Where are we hanging these things?” someone asked.
“From the school roof! We’ll hang all three in a row. Right, teacher?”
The girl turned to our homeroom teacher, who’d been watching quietly, and got his okay.
“All right, then. Let’s get going. The rest of you clean up!”
The group of girls sailed out of the room, banners in tow. Once again, they’d nominated themselves to do the fun part. But nobody complained. Maybe they were all still riding the high of a job well done.
“Let’s get this cleaned up before they come back!”
“Yikes, there’s paint on the floor… That’s gonna take some scrubbing.”
Chatting away, the remaining students started cleaning.
I had to do my part. It was still school hours, and I couldn’t just go home.
I looked for Tanaka. She was in the corner, chatting with some other girls while they picked up trash. That made it hard to grab her, but I didn’t really need specific instructions right now. We were just cleaning. I could simply gather up the trash in my little corner.
The clean-up went smoothly, and we put our desks and chairs back in place. Not long after, the banner team returned.
“Oh, welcome back! How do the banners look?”
“They’re amazing! Seeing them all hung out like that really drives home how huge they are!”
Everyone was full of excitement, chatting like we were on break. For a while the volume rose, but then our teacher took the podium, and the noise died away.
His sullen gaze swept the room, and he began to speak.
“…All right, everyone. Solid effort. You worked together well. This class isn’t running a shop, so there’s no shifts to worry about, but stay on your best behavior tomorrow. There’s always someone who gets out of hand and finds themselves in trouble. Don’t let that be you… That’s all from me.”
The student on duty barked at us to stand up, bow, and sit back down. Then our brief homeroom came to an end, and noise once again filled the classroom.
“What are you gonna check out tomorrow? I wanna get cotton candy from Class two!”
“Me too. Should we go around together?”
Today, we were allowed to leave once we finished our preparations. Class 2-5 started dispersing as everyone chatted about their plans for the following day.
I joined them, grabbing my backpack and jumping into the flow of students.
We were leaving early. Other classes were still practicing waiting on customers or sampling their wares. Everywhere was bustling—the classrooms, hallways, stairwells. It was like the festival had already begun.
Class 2-5 headed through the noise toward the shoe boxes.
“We won’t have any cleanup to do, so maybe we could hold a get-together after the festival.”
“That sounds great! Let’s make a reservation somewhere.”
Some excited students were already making plans.
I knew I wouldn’t be invited, so I kept moving. But as I got my shoes out of the locker…
“Hey! Stop right there. Tch, shrieking and squealing—like fingernails on a chalkboard!”
…a shrill male voice sliced through the fun.
“This is the front entrance! Not your classroom! It’s a public space, so shut your worthless mouths.”
It didn’t take long to spot the source—our math teacher, Furukawa. He was marching in our direction.
The noise died instantly, and the cheery mood turned to ice.
Furukawa glared at each of us in turn and swore under his breath.
“Class five, huh? I’m sure you’re excited about the festival, but remember a student’s job is to study! And you’re a pack of idiots who can’t even remember what you learned in junior high.”
As he yelled, we all got very still, like we were in class again. Nobody dared move. We were all just waiting for the storm to pass.
“I swear. None of you deserve to have fun, not with your test scores.”
What an absolute piece of garbage. Can’t stop himself from lecturing us, huh? Ridiculous. I should just ignore him.
I headed for the doors… But I didn’t make it.
“Especially you, Natsume.”
…Huh? What was that? Did he just call my name?
I slowly turned around. His cold eyes were boring into me.
“Your final exams were a disaster. Thirty-seven points? You barely avoided failing. You think I’m gonna take that crap? I’ll end you.”
It felt like someone was pressing dry ice to the back of my head. Goose bumps rose on my skin. Cold sweat poured down my back. How long had it been since I was on the receiving end of this abuse? Three months now?
…Right. I rebelled against this school once. Long before I met Kurumi.
I’d forgotten how privileged that made me. I’d been taking it for granted. Living a normal, quiet life at this school was never possible. They’d agreed not to hurl insults at me, but that was an empty promise they never planned to keep.
“I suppose that’s all you can expect from someone so dumb, they fail right back out of the better classes. Get your life together, you nitwit.”
“……”
“What’s with that look? If you’ve got something to say, spit it out. Do I have to make you write another essay? Is that what it takes? Just drop out already!”
The moment I heard that, my blood boiled over. Every cell in my body was screaming. Of all the teachers, I could never forgive this guy. I couldn’t let him get away with this.
I clenched my right fist, then swung it all the way back.
I hurtled forward, momentum building behind my fist, and punched Furukawa’s cheek with all my might.
I’d put my full weight behind it, and the impact sent him flying.
He landed on his butt, and I stomped on his face, grinding my heel into him, hurting him so badly, the trauma would keep him from ever yelling at another student again.
…Yeah, right.
“Tch, how dare you ignore me, you dunce.”
If only I could do that for real.
But it was all just a fantasy. I was merely punching my enemies in my mind.
My silent treatment worked, and Furukawa stalked away.
“…Screw you,” I hissed. This was the only way I could vent my anger.
A hand patted my shoulder.
I turned to find one of my classmates. I didn’t even know his name.
“Damn, Natsume, you drew the short straw there.”
That got the others talking.
“Brush it off, brush it off. These things happen.”
“Don’t let it get to you. Our scores weren’t much better.”
Everyone was being extra friendly, like we were old chums.
Where did this come from? Sympathy for my public humiliation?
That was my first theory, but the next thing they said proved me wrong.
“I finally feel like we can get along, Natsume.”
…Furukawa yelling at me had made me one of them.
I saw Tanaka smiling pleasantly nearby.
“Isn’t that nice, Natsume?”
Nice how? What’s she talking about? Is this supposed to be a good thing?
“…Uh, hey. Wait. Natsume, where are you going?”
Before I knew it, I’d broken into a run. I bounded up the stairs and into a seldom-used bathroom on the top floor.
I went into a stall, shut the door, and slammed my fist into the wall.
“What the hell?!”
I felt sick. Damp clothes stuck to my clammy skin.
Not long before, I’d never have felt like this.