“I’m the new student council president.” Kuze-senpai smiled in satisfaction as he greeted us. “I just want to say again that I’m looking forward to working with you.”
“Sure.”
The president’s words carried a different weight than he intended, since we all knew he wouldn’t be working with us so much as leaving the majority of the work to us. The previous student council had for the most part finished their work, and the new student council would be taking up the baton starting today. Touko and I had officially joined their number as officers.
“Touko should have just gone straight to becoming student council president.”
“Oh, you comedian.” Kuze-senpai flapped his hand at me as if to wave off my joke, although I wasn’t really joking.
It was May, and our vacation was over. The student council election held early in the new term resulted in the election of Kuze-senpai as president. Obviously, if someone who had barely shown his face in the student council was going out of his way to become president, his motive must be to make his school records look good. In fact, he didn’t even try to hide it.
Still, I had suspected that Kuze-senpai would win, since he seemed to be a popular candidate. That was mainly thanks to Nanami Touko, who had trailed behind him helping with election work; most students noticed her more than the actual candidate. Touko said quite a few eyes had also been on me, but if that was the case, I certainly didn’t notice.
It seemed that no one cared about Kuze-senpai’s motives, but that was hardly unusual. To put it bluntly, no matter who the student president was, there wouldn’t be any major changes in the school. A half-baked president wouldn’t worsen students’ individual troubles, just as a capable president wouldn’t make their lives any easier. The student council didn’t have enough power to meddle in an individual student’s daily affairs. And since it didn’t matter who the president was, it was difficult to care much about it.
Considering all of that, the most important factor that determined who someone would vote for was the impression they got of the candidate. It was all about whether they were handsome or pretty, whether they had a lot of presence, or even whether their name was particularly interesting.
And when it came to the people who were working for the candidates, there had been one person beautiful enough to catch everyone’s attention. That impression was strong enough to deal the final blow in the vote. In my opinion, at least, that was the reason Kuze-senpai was elected president.
“So we only got two new members this year, huh?”
“These two are more than enough. They’re such hard workers.” One of the upperclassmen looked at Touko and I in turn.
“I’ll be able to bring in someone new next year, though! Well, if he comes to this school, anyway.”
“One of your underclassman, President Kuze?”
Touko and I looked at each other. I could just picture a doppelganger of the president’s carefree face appearing next to him.
“We’d better not get our hopes up then,” I observed.
Touko smiled vaguely. She never allowed her friendly demeanor to break down. I see, I thought. She really would make a great president.
“Sayaka-chan, Touko, I think you’d have an easier time next year if you also invited some underclassman… If you have any, that is,” one of the upperclassmen advised us. I wondered if she didn’t have any prospective underclassmen recruits herself. Maybe most people just weren’t interested unless they wanted to make their school records look good like Kuze-senpai.
That was when I realized why Touko had been so pleased about me joining.
“I never really talked to my underclassmen much… What about you, Sayaka?”
“I went to Tomosumi for junior high, so none of my underclassman will come here, I’m sure.”
My friends from elementary school had made even less of an impression on me… I might not even recognize them if I saw them. There was one person I couldn’t forget, but if anything, I doubt she would want to talk to me.
“Tomosumi? The one that’s both a junior high and a high school?”
“Yes.”
If she knew about it, she probably knew what kind of school it was, too. It was unusual for someone to move to a different high school when they went to a combined junior high and high school. I could tell based on her demeanor that Touko was questioning why I chose to come here.
“Commuting by train was more trouble than it was worth.” I recycled the lie I had told my parents. Then I made a mental note that I had done so to make sure I never contradicted that lie.
“Oh, I see…”
Behind her short response, I wondered how much Touko had guessed. Even if she had noticed my lie, though, she didn’t pry any further into my secrets. The same way I never pried into hers.
It was like we were always peeking out at each other from safe inside our respective burrows, and I felt doubt that almost bordered on panic over whether I wanted things to stay that way. What did I want to be with Touko? What did I seek between us? If I knew my answer, I couldn’t stay at a standstill forever.
The president and second years were talking with each other. There was a silent expectation in the air that someone should make tea for everyone. In a situation like this, the underclassmen like Touko and I would normally be the ones do it. It wasn’t as though it was an assigned duty, though, so one of us tended to take on the task through impulse or silent agreement.
“How about we decide who makes the tea with rock-paper-scissors?”
“Huh?”
I wouldn’t have really minded doing it myself, but I felt a small compulsion to try doing something like this with Touko. I wanted to act like friends, that was all.