I, Ren Natsume, have loathed the sound of cicadas for as long as I can remember.
Why? Well, I know it’s unreasonable, but whenever I think about how that sound isn’t just a summer noise but a bunch of cicadas singing, I feel a sense of stagnation.
No vacation plans with friends. Endless summer homework. No more popsicles left in the fridge. No family at home.
Every time I ran into stuff like that as a kid, I’d find my ears full of the cicadas’ cries, forcing their way into my mind and making me hate them.
“We’ll be skipping this problem in class; look it over on your own time. Next page.”
I was at my seat by the window, eyes on the view outside, as the sound came through the glass. A billion malformed bells were ringing…or so I tried to convince myself. But it was obviously cicadas. It was the first time this year I’d clearly heard their cries. And now they wouldn’t stop.
“As for the next problem… Let’s have Ogino try it.”
The sun was high in the sky, dazzling my eyes. A plane drew a vapor trail across a sea of blue. Puffy clouds loomed in the distance.
The rainy season had come and gone, and summer was here. Summer vacation was upon us…or rather, it should have been.
“Can’t do it? Gimme a break. We’re going by seat number; make sure you’re ready, you dunce.”
And yet Saigou High was the same as ever.
“Keep it together! You’re in the summer course—you don’t get a vacation!”
I heard a bang so loud, it shook the room. Glancing toward the front, I saw a dark green handprint in the middle of the chalkboard. Our teacher was nearby. She must have slapped the board.
“If you can’t even solve a problem like this, you’re better off dead! What are you living for?!”
If you can’t even treat inanimate objects with respect, how can you be hired as a teacher?
Our school is beyond salvation, I thought, thoroughly convinced. This world is doomed.
Resting my chin on my hand, I stuck my finger in one ear.
I didn’t think it would drown out the verbal abuse, but I wanted to push the rot out of my mind somehow. I hoped class would end soon.
I turned away from the room and looked back outside. It was so bright out. The classroom was kept dim in an attempt to save electricity. I couldn’t see the cicadas, but I knew they were out there somewhere.
“…Hey… Hey! Snap out of it!”
“……”
“Hey! I’m talking to you, Natsume! Ears open, punk!”
I swore under my breath. Still looking out the window, I spat, “They’re open.”
Bile was building up inside me.
Shut up. Don’t you dare talk to me.
✦ ✦ ✦
After school, I slipped out of the classroom.
Saigou High didn’t allow clubs or teams to meet over summer vacation, for fear they would interfere with summer lessons.
Naturally, if any teachers spotted me heading to the clubroom, they’d be furious, so I had to keep my eyes peeled on my way there.
I left the main building and headed toward the old club annex. Once inside, I made my way to that overheated hallway. I passed doors to either side, ignoring the signs lined up next to them.
Finally, I reached the door at the very back and stopped just outside. Making sure no one was watching, I glanced up at the paper plastered over the original sign. The name of the club was written on it in magic marker.
STARGAZING CLUB.
Like the sign said, this was the Stargazing Club’s room. But that club didn’t have any active members, so they weren’t using this space for anything.
Instead, we were using it as the headquarters for our resistance movement hell-bent on changing this school.
I took a deep breath and opened the door. We had a strategy session planned for today.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said, stepping in.
The girl inside looked up from her paperback. Her eyes gleamed like black quartz under her cat-eared newsboy cap. Her black hair was cut neatly in a bob. Its underside, dyed an ash gray, peeped out as her hair swayed.
Kurumi Hoshimiya was flashing me that mean-spirited grin of hers, clearly in revenge mode.
“You’re super late,” she replied. “I’m already at the climax of this amnesia romance.”
“Hmm? Oh, your book? Sorry, it was hard getting here without anyone spotting me.”
“Was it? Then I’ll forgive you. Well done, Natsume.”
“Yeah, thanks. Same to you, Kurumi.”
As I spoke, I grabbed a folding chair and moved it right up next to her.
I looked around at the empty shelves, the wobbly folding table, and the light from the setting sun streaming through the window. Surrounded by familiar sights, I stretched and let my shoulders relax. It had been a long day, but I could finally take a load off.
“Natsume, you hanging in there? You look seriously exhausted.” Kurumi snapped her book closed, concerned. I leaned back in my seat, and she sidled over and looked up at me. “Heat getting to you? If you’re not feeling up to it, we can reschedule.”
“Oh, that’s not the problem. I’m fine… Well, not really ‘fine,’ I guess.” I straightened up, admitting it. I didn’t want to make her worry, and there was no use in trying to act strong in front of Kurumi. “Just feels like the teachers have reverted back to their old habits.”
“Oof. Same in your year, then?”
The first-year teachers must have been just as bad.
We’d broadcast the teacher’s insults over the PA system during the school festival before summer vacation. It had caused an uproar, and the faculty had started watching what they said. There was talk of the Board of Education getting involved, of some teachers maybe getting fired.
Our plan had worked…or so we’d thought.
But a few days later, Saigou High was back to normal. People didn’t care about anything but grades, studying, and college entrance exams. Nothing else mattered—least of all glorified pranks staged by a couple weirdos.
That was the attitude the teachers adopted, and the students just fell in line.
Soon, the faculty had ramped their rhetoric right back up, and the students took it as a natural return to routine after the brief respite of the festival.
In the end, our school still only cared about its students’ GPAs.
Summer classes started, everyone got busy, and the uproar dissipated.
Beliefs instilled over years couldn’t be changed and forgotten so easily.
“But that’s fine,” I said. “I didn’t expect something like that to fix all our problems.”
Kurumi was nodding. “Exactly! Our goal was just to reduce the number of applicants for the next school year. It’s too soon to say if we achieved that or not. We’ll just have to cross our fingers.”
“Will you stick around long enough to find out?”
“Hmm? Should I take that to mean you want me to stay?” She shot me a provocative grin, and I came clean.
“That’s what I said.”
This rattled her. “Wh-where’d that come from?” she stammered, cheeks red.
Don’t be stupid, Kurumi. I’m already committed. I’ve decided to fall with you, and I’m not afraid to say it.
…I was still embarrassed, of course.
Kurumi cleared her throat and tried to cut through the awkward atmosphere. “Well, like I said, I’m not about to drop out yet. Not until I’ve taken a principled stand, made these awful teachers pay, and forced the students to change their attitudes.”
“Yeah. We’re just getting started. We’re gonna change this school.”
“Heh-heh. I’m pinning my hopes on you, Natsume. Let’s do this together!”
Kurumi rubbed her nose, adjusted her hat, then reached for the backpack at her feet. She pulled out a yellow notebook, flipped through the pages and put it down, open to a blank page in the center.
This was her Notes on Revenge, where she kept all her ideas for our resistance movement. She tapped the page with the end of her mechanical pencil and hummed in thought.
“On that note, how should we proceed?” she asked.
“Can’t we just keep coming up with more schemes?”
“We could. But I mean…the festival’s over, and we’re technically on summer vacation. I thought we could use a new goal.”
So this was about motivation, then. She might have a point.
“A goal for summer vacation, hmm?” I wondered aloud. “What would be good?”
Both of us were taking part in Saigou High’s summer classes, allowing us to be at school during the break. It seemed a shame to let that opportunity go to waste.
We thought for a while, then Kurumi’s head snapped up. “Come to think of it, I’m a little surprised you’re taking summer classes, too.”
“Not like I wanted to. My father applied for me. Like last year.”
“Oof. That explains it. My sympathies.” Wincing, she rubbed my head.
Stop. That is so cringe. I’m not your dog.
“I could say the same to you, Kurumi. Why would you sign up when you’re planning to drop out?”
“Oh… Well, I didn’t want to come, but when I told my mom I was putting off my plans to drop out, she went and applied for me. Eh-heh-heh, guess we’re both in the same boat!”
Grinning, she took my hand in hers. Our fingers threaded together. She squeezed twice. I squeezed back. This was how couples held hands.
I looked up at her, and she smiled. It was embarrassing, but it also made me feel better. It was strange how that worked. I rather liked times like these.
For a while, we savored each other’s warmth. Then I voiced a passing notion.
“We could try to disrupt the summer lessons. Not like either of us want to be here.”
“Oh? Interesting! I like it. A bold proposition!”
“And even if we don’t manage to disrupt them, I still think they’re a good target.”
Saigou High’s summer lessons were a hellish experience that kicked off right after the festival ended on July twenty-third.
They skipped homeroom and any hands-on lessons in favor of a more condensed schedule of focused study. Five hours on weekdays, three on Saturday.
They weren’t all that different from standard classes; in other words, they were a complete waste of time. The teachers spouted insults and discriminatory remarks. Sometimes they even stormed out. The textbook might be different, but it was the same teachers teaching the same classes.
They were like a concentrated dose of our school’s rotten day-to-day. That was all our summer classes amounted to.
Kurumi was experiencing them for the first time, but the last few days had undoubtedly demonstrated just how crappy they were. She was nodding, lips curled in a vicious smirk.
“Hmph! Fight back against those worthless lectures! I like it,” she said enthusiastically. “Their summer curriculum was pissing me off anyway. All they do is demand to know how far we are in our summer homework.”