“If we want to do it this year, I think we’ll need to propose it soon or we won’t make it in time.” Touko immediately cut through the small talk to broach the main topic.
“You mean the student council play?”
“Right.” Touko nodded and then dug into her lunch. It was as though her ambition was affecting her appetite. “We only have four months, with summer break in between before the cultural festival.”
“That’s true…” Though I also thought worrying about preparations for a cultural festival performance four months ahead of time was overdoing it. Still, we weren’t exactly a drama club, so we certainly would need plenty of practice.
“A play?” Midori, who had been eating with us, interjected. She had a separate chair from Manaka this time.
“Touko is thinking of putting on a play with the student council.”
“Huh. Sounds like fun.”
Since Manaka wasn’t directly involved, the idea seemed to casually amuse her. On the other hand, Midori seemed utterly confused.
“Why would the student council put on a play?”
“Seems there are a few reasons.”
That was the first question that came to my mind too, but I still hadn’t researched the particulars of the tradition, so I couldn’t explain it in detail.
“From what I understand, it first started when the culture club said that they wanted to do a collaboration for the festival,” Touko said, taking over for me. “But the school doesn’t have a drama club, so there were no actors… So apparently the student council were the actors, and it became a tradition from there.”
“Wow.”
This was my first time hearing how the play had come to be. I wondered whether Touko had looked that up or heard it from someone else. At any rate, if we needed to ask for help from the other clubs, then Touko was right that we might not have enough time.
“Wow, a play, huh? Seems like fun.”
“Want to join the student council?” Touko solicited her with a smile.
“I guess you and Sayaka are in it and all. Hmm, I dunno…” Manaka, who was part of the so-called going-home club, put down her half-eaten sandwich to stew on the thought.
“Just so you know, you’d have to do other chores and stuff every day when the play’s not going on,” Midori warned.
“Oh. That’s no fun.” Just like that, Manaka gave up.
“I’d go to see it if it’s a period drama.” This was an unexpected statement from Midori, who was in the English conversation club. When she mentioned period dramas, I imagined Touko and I up on the gym stage wearing wigs while crossing swords. Naturally, I would be the one who got cut down.
“Are you okay with a period drama?”
“Erm, I haven’t really thought about that part of it very much…”
“Right,” I agreed. Preparing the costumes seemed like it would be a pain, anyway.
“I want to see the police force from the Edo period, the Shinsengumi.”
“We definitely wouldn’t have enough people for that…” Regardless of the setting, we had five actors at most.
Manaka’s eyes grew distant as she started spacing out, then lobbed a new question at us. “Would that one Momotaro folktale be considered a period drama?”
“No, I doubt it.”
We had that conversation during our lunch break and then another after school.
“The first issue is whether the president will come to the student council room at all today.”
“If it doesn’t seem like he will, let’s go directly to the kendo club and talk to him,” Touko replied determinedly. There was no hesitation in her speedy footsteps. Touko never strayed from her path and never slowed down. Yet, for some reason, her attitude didn’t necessarily feel positive to me.
“So, Touko.”
“What is it?”
As we changed our shoes, I hesitated a moment and then told her what I was thinking. “You’re being surprisingly pushy.”
“You think so?” Touko tilted her head quizzically at me, as though she wasn’t aware of it herself.
Sure enough, president Kuze wasn’t in the student council room.
“Will the president be in today?”
“Doubt it,” our black-haired upperclassman snorted. He seemed to have long since given up on the president ever showing up to meetings.
“I see… Then if you’ll excuse me for a bit.” Putting down her bag, Touko bowed and left the student council room shortly after entering.
“Oh, but what about your work?”
“Sorry, please let me do it once I get back.”
I put my bag down as well and followed her. The upperclassman we had left behind watched us with her head propped in her hand as she lamented, “Why did you even come?”
Since I had been invited to join the student council on my very first day, I had never gone to observe the sports clubs. This was the first time I had walked over to the kendo area. As we approached the building behind the gym, I heard the blunt sound of something being hit, followed by the dull sound of someone stomping hard against the floor.
That didn’t seem to intimidate Touko in the slightest as she headed towards the entrance. Once she had her mind set on something, she didn’t allow anything else to faze her… I wasn’t sure if that was because she had a high aptitude for concentration or simply didn’t have the time to spare for outside distractions. I suspected the latter. Touko was incredibly tense at times, like she was darting forward in a straight line and wouldn’t let anyone catch up to her.
“Whuh?” When Touko peeked into the dojo, Kuze-senpai immediately exclaimed in surprise at our presence. He withdrew from the practice circle and took off his mask.
“Yeah, they’re officers in the student council,” he introduced us to the other members as he approached the entrance of the dojo. “You know, I sometimes forget that I’m the student council president,” he grumbled, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “What is it? Are you interested in the kendo club after all this time?”
“No, you just never come, so we decided to head over to you.” If only he would apply that free-flowing sweat to his work at the student council.
“Sorry, sorry. But look, the summer tournament is coming up.” Kuze-senpai hardly showed any guilt as he unwrapped the tenugui from his head and then roughly wiped his neck. His hair was a rumpled mess from being tucked under the towel-like wrapping. “So, what did you come all the way here for?”
Touko and I looked at each other and nodded. Then, Touko explained the proposal we had talked about.
“A play? What’s up with that?” Kuze-senpai questioned, as though he doubted his ears. It seemed that this was his first time hearing about the student council play.
When Touko continued to explain it, Kuze-senpai’s face became sterner. “Us, do a play? Not gonna happen.”
Naturally, Touko wasn’t going to give up so easily. “Of course, it wouldn’t just be on our own. I’m planning on making this happen by getting help from the other clubs.”
“Hmm… Yeah, no way. We can’t pull that off.”