V1C5 Part2

Parsed with an automated reader. The content accuracy is not guranteed.

2. ESCAPERandom girls: oh no the girls are fighting

Translation Notes

1. Koutairen is the abbreviation for the All Japan High School Athletic Federation.

2. Kuroba calls his relatives おんちゃん and aunt is おばちゃん, so yeah

3. Economy class syndrome is “deep-vein thrombosis said to be caused by periods of prolonged immobility on long-haul flights.”

4. Murderer was in English in the original text

Previous || Index || Next

The bridge in the middle of Monshiro Town and Suzumu City was the goal of Haijima’s daily jogs. At the end of his jog, he dashed across the concrete bridge that was shining silver in the scorching August sun, then made a U-turn at that same speed and ran down to the riverbank. “Uwah!” His soles slipped on the overgrown summer grass. He ended up sliding down to a flat area of the riverbank on the enamel bag he carried on his back.

Hah, hah…He lay there for a while, breathing heavily. In the shadow of the bridge, the temperature felt a little cooler than on the bridge. He could feel the dampness of the summer grass soaking into his hair.

He got up unsteadily, put down his bag and took out his ball. He imagined that he was tired at the final stage of the game and purposely began to do one-person passes before he could catch his breath. With an overhand motion, he threw the ball directly above him. He continued to set the ball rhythmically no higher than a centimeter. The sound of the ball being softly flicked echoed in the quiet riverbank for a while.

The concrete piers rising from the riverbank had several colored chalk marks on them, though they were already fading. The marks were used as the attackers’ positions, and he set the ball to them. He spun around and hit the bouncing ball with a jump back set at the exact same height. He turned forward again and set the bouncing ball again. This time he intentionally changed the spot he hit it to. The ball deviated somewhat and bounced up. He then ran to chase it and crouched down and set the ball while he was underneath it. Gradually, he purposefully shifted to spots where he hit the ball to harder and harder places.

Haijima’s sets were characterized by their “speed,” but they were sets that crushed the attacker’s will, or sets that didn’t “allow for themselves to be hit,” so to speak. As the ball moved in a parabolic position, it had time to drift near the top before it began its free fall. If he set a ball that overlapped the top of the parabola with the attacker’s highest jumping point, the attacker could use that time, even if it was only a few tenths of a second, to draw out his power and hit the ball as hard as he could. In order to always have that kind of set, he had been refining his technique by focusing on unparalleled accuracy in ball handling.

Immediately after hitting the pier with a back set, the ball bounced back with a bang and he flipped it up with his elbow, still facing backwards. He jumped up to the high ball and hit the mark accurately with one hand. Technically, he could keep on doing this for an hour or two without dropping the ball. However, his legs couldn’t keep up, his toes got caught in the summer grass and he pitched forward. As he slid forward, he stretched out his body hard and thrust the back of his hand into the gap between the ball and the ground.

Although he connected with it through willpower, that was as far as he could go. The ball was flicked low in front of him and crashed into the grass.

He sprawled out on top of the grass, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. The blue summer sky spread out above the slope pierced his eyes, and he raised his arm to cover his face.

“Shit…”

He let out a curse under his arm.

“Why do I have to do this…”

In addition to withdrawing from the semifinals of the Fall Tournament, the school gave them the severe punishment of refraining from club activities for the time being. It wasn’t that it was settled that they were guilty, but rather that the current situation was completely grey. Okuma said it was in fact because it was grey. If the fact that the scandal was real were to leak through some other channel and the school had received the report but not taken any action, the school would be on the hook. There were several such incidents a year, regardless of the type of sport. Okuma was a little more familiar with that sort of situation—it was the school’s way of protecting itself by taking strict measures, he said.

Since they weren’t banned from practicing on their own during the summer break, Haijima continued to practice on his own, just as he had done when he wasn’t a part of the team. Since he didn’t know when the next competition was going to be, he hadn’t made any adjustments for a tournament, just blindly practicing everyday to beyond the limit of his stamina, much less stopping at the limit. However, even if he practiced until he couldn’t move, he couldn’t see the effect by himself. There was only a growing sense of futility, no sense of accomplishment at all.

What am I doing here all by myself? What’s the point of practicing by myself? There’s no point in this unless I’m in a place with a net and there’s someone to set the ball to——.

Fading chalk marks on the bridge piers. The reason they were fading was because he didn’t have to practice alone anymore before, and because he didn’t draw over them these days, even when they were getting fainter.

—

It had been a month since club activities were suspended. September 2nd, the second day of the new semester—they only went to school for the morning yesterday, so today was the real first day of the new term.

When he pedalled his bike to the station, he saw the train arriving at the station building. He pedalled faster and charged in front of the station, then immediately got off his bike and jumped over the ticket gate. Monshiro Station was a desolate little hut, so the platform was right in front of the ticket gate. He ran and made it just in time through the gap in the doors as they were about to close.

A dark green afterimage intruded his vision and he momentarily felt dizzy. He took off his glasses, wiped the sweat off his face with his shirt, and exhaled. The fan spinning on the ceiling blew a strong and lukewarm wind that ruffled his hair.

I pedalled my bike as hard as I could for just a little bit, but I’m tired…

As he leaned against the railing by the doors and put his glasses back on, he noticed a tall person wearing the same uniform as him standing in front of the priority seats.

“Granny, if you don’t tie it up properly, they’ll all fall out.”

While giving something that sounded like honest advice to the old lady sitting in the priority seats, the person was tying the mouth of a supermarket bag that was filled with some kind of fruit and then putting it on the overhead rack.

“Thank you, young master. I wish my son was as big as you.”

“Your house would get more cramped with people like me in it. My mom keeps saying I’m getting in the way.”

“Well, isn’t your house big enough?”

“Our house is wide horizontally, but it’s stuck verti…”

Kuroba also noticed him and cut himself off.

“Oh…hey, you’re kinda sunburnt.”

I was wondering what he was going to say first, but it was that? He sure has it easy.

Kuroba was dressed in his uniform, a white shirt and pants. There was a rule about ties, but few male students wore them in the summer. A colored T-shirt was showing through under his shirt, and Haijima couldn’t judge if that was cool or tacky because he didn’t have the evaluation standard for that. Haijima was just wearing the white shirt.

The only bags he had was the flimsy school bag designated by the school (it wasn’t designated to be flimsy, Kuroba just flattened it himself), and he wasn’t carrying the enamel bag for club activities. When he clicked his tongue with the implication of Look at you, just enjoying your vacation like it’s natural, Kuroba flinched a little and pouted.

They averted their gazes and leaned against the railings on either side of the door. There was no conversation that would stimulate them, so there was silence. Haijima planned on going home after doing some more self-practice today, so he had his usual enamel bag slung over his shoulder, but he couldn’t bear the weight on his shoulder and put it down on the floor. The single ball, his own that was used for outdoor practice felt terribly heavy.

He might be right when he called me sunburnt… When he turned the direction of his face, he could faintly see the frames of his glasses faintly reflected in the door glass. He had been practicing outside for overwhelmingly longer than usual, so he felt unusually burnt. I spent a lot of time outside yesterday too…so much that I don’t even remember how long I practiced. He wondered if that showed how tired he was.

Even though it was September, it was still blazing outside. However, the scenery of the paddy fields flowing outside the train window had become quite autumnal before they knew it. The growing rice plants were beginning to hang down their ears as though bowing. He squinted his eyes at the dazzling golden glow of the paddy fields reflecting the sun that had been shining brightly since morning. It seemed to overlap with his current situation, where he could only look on at a brightly sparkling world from a dim place, which made him feel even more frustrated.

Their participation in the Spring Volleyball Tournament’s preliminaries was hopeless at this stage. The semifinals would be held at the end of this month, and the two schools that would advance to the finals for both the boys’ and girls’ teams would be decided. Two months later in November, the finals will be held for the right to represent the prefecture at the National Tournament, where there was only one spot for both boys and girls. The Spring Tournament Final Selection, where representatives from all over Japan would gather, would be held in January of next year.

They had completed the application, so it seemed that they still weren’t officially non-participating yet, which was rather like a state of limbo. Even if they were allowed to resume their activities in the second semester, it would be difficult to rebuild a team that had fallen apart during the summer break in less than a month. It would be fine if their goal was to participate—but what Seiin, Haijima, Oda wanted was a ticket to Nationals. They needed the ability to beat all the teams in the prefecture and rise to the top.

What about Oda…he wondered if he had already given up on the Spring Tournament. As the days went by, he had a feeling that he was the only one feeling irritated like this every day, but when he saw Kuroba’s reaction, like he had forgotten something completely important, that worry turned into certainty.

Every time the train stopped at a station, the number of passengers and density within the train increased. Right before Nanafu Station, it became congested like it was rush hour, and the two stood side by side with their backs against the door. The two tall boys blocked the door glass, turning the inside of the car dark and causing the passengers near them to somewhat keep a distance from them.

There was a group of girls in Seiin uniforms chatting animatedly. He could tell from a glance that they belonged to a sports team, and from the logo printed on their bags, he could tell that they belonged to the girls’ softball team.

“Oh, you’re the first-years from boys’ volleyball.”

They seemed to know their faces and called out to them.

“We heard about it. Your club activities got suspended.”

They said in a teasing tone. “Yeah, well,” Kuroba said with a stiffened face and took a step over to him. While pulling his bag to between his legs with his foot, Haijima gave a side-eyed glare at Kuroba. …Don’t chicken out. What’s with that “Yeah well” and that half-smile. Aren’t you the reason why.

“…You, get a clue. It’s thanks to you that the Spring Tournament has become a total waste. We missed out on Inter-High and the National Meet, so this was our last chance to go to Nationals…”

He spat out in a biting voice, with the back of his head against the door glass. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kuroba’s shoulders jump.

“I, I know that much. It’s Oda-senpai and Aoki-senpai’s last year, and I feel awful about that. But if that’s the case, then you should trust me even more.”

He was just as persistent as he had been a month ago. Haijima had no idea what he was being so stubborn about. Was there anything in this world that required him to stubbornly prioritize it over the Spring Tournament? If it were him, he would say no.

“It’s not just the third-years. Why don’t you think about yourself too? We’ve only got three chances.”

He emphasized “three chances.” If he could, he would do it dozens of times, but he could only go there three times in his life.

The Spring High School Volleyball Tournament had been held in the first gym of the Yoyogi National Gymnasium in Tokyo for a long time as a March tradition, although there had been some changes to the outline of the tournament since it was moved to January. Since elementary school, Haijima had watched those recordings to the point where the tapes were literally worn out (some games were only recorded in analog form, so he went out of his way to have them shown to him on a VCR). He had imagined dozens of times, hundreds of times, that he would be fighting on that orange court—not the multi-sided court they had been playing on until the quarterfinals, but the center court right in the middle of the gym. Ever since elementary school, he had only been imagining that both when he was asleep and awake, only to suddenly realize one day that he had only three chances to actually try to go there, and that truth felt absurd to him.

When he decided to leave Meisei Middle School and go back to Fukui, he thought that with this, he had nothing to aim for anymore. But Oda’s words shone a light on what he had once stored away in a dim place.

“I honestly believe that this year’s Seiin will definitely be a team that goes to the finals.”

“Lend me all your strength.”

Can I really trust him…? If that’s the case, as long as I give it my all, I’ll get us there. After the summer training camp, he was at the point where he was becoming more and more convinced that he could make that a reality with this team, and he couldn’t step on the brakes twice.

“I can’t wait until next year. If this year’s ruined, then we lose one chance. Three chances will become two. And even if we could go there three times, it still won’t be enough.”

Why doesn’t he understand…really, how many years does this guy plan on being in high school?

“Were we told that… You seemed to be attached to the Spring Tournament, but that’s because you’re from Tokyo, right? What’s the difference between this and Inter-High or the National Meet?”

Kuroba’s tone of voice also became a little stronger. What had been sulkiness gradually became something like resentment and lashing out.

“If you wanna be in the Spring Tournament so badly, I’ve got an idea for you. You should go back to your old school in Tokyo and compete with them. You don’t care what team you’re on, as long as you can be in the game, but not Seiin. You’re only thinking about yourself anyways, aren’t you?”

“…? Why do I have to be told that? No matter how you look at it, you’re the one who’s not thinking about the team.”

Their voices, getting louder and louder, attracted attention from around them. The girls’ softball team was exchanging whispers that sounded like “Boys’ volleyball is splitting up.”

“You don’t know the rules of Koutairen (1) in the first place, do you? There’s one where it’s a general rule that if you transferred schools, you’re disqualified from participating in games unless six months has passed. If I transferred to Meisei right now, even if I get accepted, there’s no way I’d be able to compete in the Spring Tournament preliminaries anyways.”

He was starting to feel very annoyed, wondering why he had to explain all that in a place like this. As expected, Kuroba looked as though he didn’t know about such a rule, but he still snapped back, saying, “W-Well, if that’s the case…”

“You want to go back if you can be accepted, right? I knew it.”

“I didn’t talk about that at all. Let me say this clearly, even if I’m accepted, who’s gonna want me as their teammate again? I…”

His voice caught. The words that had congested in his throat were spat out in small chunks.

“I’m…the setter who caused his teammate to attempt suicide…after all…”

Kuroba widened his eyes and became speechless.

That face suddenly disappeared from his vision with a surprised “Oh?”

The train had just appeared at the station and the doors had opened. Having suddenly lost the support of his back, Haijima almost fell onto the platform.

Passengers, including many in the Seiin uniform, surged towards the doors. The current of people pushed him and he jumped onto the platform on one foot, but his bag he had put down on the floor was left behind and he hurriedly pushed his way through the crowd to go back. A large rectangular bag was slumped between people’s feet. While almost getting kneed several times, he reached for the strap and retrieved the bag.

The departure bell began to ring, so he quickly retrieved it and was about to jump off the train, but just as he put his foot down the edge of the train car, he suddenly felt hesitant.

…What’s the point of this whole day? I’m just going to school and killing time between classes, not even doing any club activities, and yet I’m just going to go home tired.

He saw Kuroba’s head in the stream of people heading for the ticket gate. It was like a rock sticking out of the shallows, his height one head above the others. While walking with the current pushing him, Kuroba turned around and shouted something at Haijima, but Haijima turned back and went back inside the car.

He sat down on a vacant seat and threw his bag out onto the aisle. Of course, the Seiin students had all got off at Nanafu, so there was no one else left who was wearing the same uniform as him.

That’s what he thought, but then he saw Kuroba’s trouser-clad legs step over the bag in front of him and stop.

Blinking, Haijima looked up.

“What the hell are you thinking…”

Kuroba, looking a little flustered, was panting heavily.

“Why are you coming back here too?”

“You’re skipping school? What are you gonna do?”

“What, you say…”

He was about to answer “Nothing really,” but then fell silent.

It wasn’t as though he had any destination or goal if he kept riding. But…

He just thought of one.

“…Kuroba. Come with me.”

“Huh? Where?”

Kuroba darted his eyes about.

“Tokyo.”

“Huh? What are you doing there?” He looked like he still didn’t understand yet.

“I’m going back. ——To Meisei.”

***

“…Huh, Yori-chan came back? …No, it’s fine, yeah…I owe you, Uncle. I’m begging you, please don’t tell anyone until tonight. It’s not like I’m running away home, I’m with a guy who knows Tokyo, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Kuroba, who had been talking in front of the station attendant’s office, came running back and said, “I kept you waiting. Here.” He pushed half of the bundle of tickets into his hand.

Fukui Station was in the center of the northern part of Fukui Prefecture and a terminal station where limited express trains stopped. The express train from here to Maibara in Shiga Prefecture and the bullet train from Maibara to Tokyo cost about 13,000 yen for a one-way trip—not an amount that a high school student could afford after making up his mind on the spot, so they had Kuroba’s relative who worked at the station to arrange the tickets for him. He didn’t know if tabs were a thing at train stations, but it felt like it was Kuroba’s tab.

With a humble look on his face, Haijima received the ticket.

“You asked me to come with you, but you used me as your wallet.”

“It’s not like that. I’ll repay you. My dad will be there when we get there.”

“Well, I don’t really mind. Oh, that relative of mine just now is my aunt’s…Yori-chan’s mom’s younger brother.”

“I don’t get it.” The relatives and aunts got mixed up in his mind. (2) Were there really hundreds of relatives related to the Kuroba family around here?

“Yori-chan went out of the prefecture to play again during vacation, but he arrived on a night bus a little while ago and came back to town the same time as us.”

Since the departure time of the special express train was approaching, they talked as they ran up the stairs to the platform and jumped in through the nearest door.

It was a weekday, but the unreserved seats were quite packed. Most of the passengers were in two categories: groups of young people on summer vacation since universities were still on break, and businessmen on business trips. They looked terribly out of place in their high school uniforms, but thanks to Haijima’s enamel bag, which was easily recognized as something for club activities from an outsider’s perspective, they should look like they were going to an away game or something.

Kuroba found two empty seats and took the window seat first. Haijima shoved his bulky bag into the overhead rack and sat down in the aisle seat. The two of them were taller than most people, so it was quite a bit of trouble for them to tuck their legs in.

“The seats are so cramped in limited express. Won’t we get that economy class syndrome thing?” (3)

“It’s only a little over an hour to Maibara. Bear with it.”

“Accused of misconduct, then skipping school in the new semester and escaping outside the prefecture, can my situation get even worse…umm, how do you put the seat down, oh, here?”

As he continued to complain, Kuroba pushed down the back of his seat one notch, and when he thought he was going to rest his back on it, he pressed his face against the window and said excitedly, “Oh, it looks like we’re setting out already!” Even though he had been complaining about his situation, he was completely acting like he was on a school trip, saying, “Let’s buy a station lunch if they’re selling food in the train. I’m starving.” This guy fundamentally has weak self-awareness.

It shouldn’t have been reassuring at all to bring along a country bumpkin who got excited just by riding the express and having to take care of him, only adding to his burdens—but he convulsively invited Kuroba. Even if he hadn’t depended on his wallet, he didn’t think he would have even thought of going if he was alone.

Kuroba made an “Mmm?” sound and stirred, rising from his seat. Haijima was fed up, wondering why he couldn’t stay calm like that, but it seemed that he got a call as he took out his vibrating cell phone from his back pocket. As soon as he checked the caller, he got a startled look on his face. “Itoko…ah, not Yori-chan, but my cousin, Itoko.” “Your relatives sure are complicated.”

He thought he was going to answer, but he only indecisively stared at the message, not even attempting to respond.

“What if it’s an emergency?”

“No…we had a little fight, and she was staying angry at me, so what’s with the sudden…”

Kuroba clamped the phone between his hands and the vibration eventually stopped.

“Ah, she stopped.”

His voice when he said that sounded a little disappointed as he breathed a sigh of relief.

The gravity from the front lightly pressed him against his seat. Haijima imitated Kuroba and lowered the back of his seat down a notch, resting the back of his head against it and relaxing. He slowly closed his eyes and turned his attention towards the vibrations beginning to come from underneath his buttocks and the muffled sound of the train as it gradually picked up speed. He didn’t mind the feeling of being wrapped in a thin barrier, something characteristic to long-distance trains.

It’s been a while since I felt this feeling. In the winter of my second grade of middle school, I rode the express train in the opposite direction…

“Haijima.”

It came from next to him. It was no longer high-spirited, but calm.

“You’re not seriously going to transfer schools, right…?”

“You’re still saying that?”

Haijima answered curtly and opened his eyes.

“If you’re not, then what…”

“Who knows.”

“What do you mean, who knows?”

Kuroba’s voice became a bit wild, as though he was impatient, but even if he said that, it wasn’t as though Haijima had any specific predictions about what would happen.

After that “test of courage” incident at the summer training camp, he began to have nightmares from time to time. He didn’t really hold a grudge against Okuma and the others for their prank. It was just that those people didn’t know his circumstances, and it made him realize that he was still dragging along what happened at Meisei.

It might be that something would be put behind him for the better, it might be that something worse would happen. It might look foolish to be desperate and going out of his way to have his wounds gouged out, but in any case, if he stayed here, then this summer would end fruitlessly in a state of limbo. For Haijima, this current situation where he couldn’t go forward or back was unbearable, to the point where he thought that it would be better to just destroy everything once and for all.

“I thought if I met Souta, it would play out one way or another.”

“Souuuta.”

Kuroba repeated the name in a strange monotone, then cleared his throat like there was phlegm stuck in it.

“Hey, if you don’t mind me asking…what happened at your Tokyo school…?”

“I might as well. I’m the one who made you come with me, so it makes sense for me to tell you. We have time while riding anyways.”

“I-It’s not like I’m curious or anything, okay? You don’t have to talk about what you don’t want to talk about.”

“Don’t get so weirdly worked up over it.”

Although he said that, this guy was someone who paid attention to the needs of others by nature. Unlike him, he could be considerate in order to not hurt others. …Oh, was he coughing because he found it hard to ask? It was then that he realized that the excessively high-spirited chattering might because he was finding the right moment to broach what he wanted to ask.

“He’s the guy who…attempted suicide, right? What kind of person is this Souta…?”

“Yoshino Souta. My volleyball buddy since fourth grade.”

Haijima began to play volleyball when he was in fourth grade. The Haijima family was a father-son household, but his father came home late and he had to stay home alone for a long time, so he was enrolled into a local elementary schooler volleyball club as a substitute for after-school childcare. The club itself wasn’t a full-fledged one, as its main objective was to improve the physical fitness of children, but Haijima became more and more absorbed in it, to the point where volleyball became everything to him before he knew it. Volleyball might have become something like a parent to him.

It was at this club that he met Yoshino Souta and Komukai Tetsuto, and they would later play together at Meisei Middle School. Although they went to different elementary schools, they invited each other to continue playing volleyball at the same middle school, and they all took the entrance exams for Meisei Private Academy Middle School.

“Our coach was named Minami-sensei, who took care of us older kids under the head coach, and the one who told us about Meisei. Sensei told us that it was a powerhouse school in Tokyo, with great facilities, and that they worked closely with their high school to nurture their players over the long term. So we all promised Sensei that we’ll definitely go to the Spring Tournament from Meisei High.”

“Heh…With such a good team and environment…” How did something like that happen? He seemed to want to say.

Why did it become like that, really. When he was in elementary school, everyone got along well. They all looked forward to the days they had club, and there was never a conflict of opinions that created a bad atmosphere.

However, that was probably because their positions were fluid and they were playing volleyball half in fun. As they started to play a serious and strict team, the disparity in ability and physique became more and more apparent, and their old relationships changed before they knew it. Haijima himself probably realized it quite late, but it seemed that everyone distanced themselves from him from the very beginning.

“Can’t you get it up there? If you don’t do that, I can’t do anything either.”

There was a time when Haijima lost his temper because the attackers’ serve return rate was terrible.

“You don’t do receives, so don’t talk to us about anything. If you’re gonna tell people to do something, do it yourself first.”

“If I do the first touch, then I can’t be the setter. If I’m not in the middle, there’s no offense. The left’s job is to receive first and foremost. It’s the job of all of you to connect to me. I’m not gonna let someone who’s not gonna do that to spike.”

Haijima thought he had said something obvious. Even thinking about it now, he was sure he wasn’t wrong in theory. No matter what formation it was, the setter didn’t take part in the reception. However, his statement made the atmosphere rough.

Apparently, this kind of thing would happen so often that his teammates would go online to enthusiastically badmouth Haijima to each other in order to vent their frustrations. Someone’s mother must have happened to see their screen, and shocked by the situation, the mothers overreacted and it reached the coach in the form of harsh advice from the parent’s association.

“Haijima, why did you have to say things that way…? I’m not a teacher at this school, so I won’t delve into it that much, but could you please think over your words a little bit more? That’s why, even though it’d be fatal for us if we don’t have you, you’re benched for the next game.”

The mothers’ cooperation was important not only in terms of funding, but also for training camps and away games, so the coach was probably reluctant to speak out. He decided to temporarily drop Haijima from the starting lineup for the tournament in the fall with the sense of “appeasing them.”

It was on the very day of the tournament.

Yoshino Souta attempted suicide by slitting his wrists.

The direct trigger for this was the fight with Haijima during practice two days ago, apparently.

“MURDERER…do you know what that means?” (4)

“…? Um…what was it again?”

He was suddenly asked a question and gave a quizzical response. He didn’t want to give him a quiz, so he immediately said the answer.

“A killer.”

Kuroba’s seat suddenly creaked as he sat up and looked at him. Haijima only gave him a side glance and purposely continued to speak detachedly.

“I also didn’t know until I looked it up in the dictionary, so I guess they weren’t really good at bullying. Even if they drew graffiti with a word I couldn’t read, it didn’t really affect me. …Until I went home and looked it up.”

The Yoshino incident spread outside the club, probably embellished, and he ended up being harassed in school. When he came to school in the morning, there were words carved on his desk, or his textbooks and school shoes went missing. It was of course unpleasant and disgusting to see his shoes lined up in front of the fence on the roof (which was of course off limits as a general rule). Going to school because he had club activities remained the same in middle school and now. Haijima didn’t have any reason where he had to cling to his classes to the point of struggling to find what he had lost and being treated as entertainment as he did that. Staying home from school was an easy decision.

“So with the end of the second semester, I stopped going to school for a month, and I transferred here for the third semester…and you know what happened after that. …That’s pretty much it.”

The blood drained from Kuroba’s face. It rubbed him the wrong way a little, wondering why he was making that face even though he wasn’t the one who had those things done to him. He understood, though. He’s got that kind of personality, so he sympathizes with me and feels sorry for me. But it actually hurt him to recognize anew that he had been through something that made him be pitied.

“…Haijima. After hearing your story, I have a feeling that you really shouldn’t go there… I think going back to a place like that would make you feel painful feelings again, and nothing good will come of it…”

“You’re the one who started it. You told me to go back to Tokyo right now.”

“Oh, that, well, that was more like tit for tat…”

“Take responsibility. I don’t need you to get cold feet. Because…I might be the one who’s getting cold feet.”

“…”

Kuroba kept stiflingly silent. The passengers sitting in the seats in front of them reclined their seats like they had arranged it beforehand, making it too cramped for them. Still silent, the two obediently bent their knees. The four knees in black pants tightly lined up before them.

A small vibration began sounding at the window. Kuroba’s phone, placed on the window frame, received another message. Kuroba took his phone and muttered, “Ah…it’s Itoko again.”

“Why don’t you just answer her?”

Haijima moved his legs aside to make room for him to leave, but Kuroba shook his head with an “Oh, no…” and pressed the power button on his phone. “It’s fine.”

Previous || Index || Next