Student Council: Spring Cleaning pt. 1

It was spring. The time when students had already grown accustomed to their classrooms and classmates, already dreaded upcoming exams, and already looked forward to summer. That time of the year--before summer, before the exams, in the apex of spring-- was when Yamaku High held its annual Cultural Festival. It was approaching fast; only a few more weeks and it would be here. For the student council that year, it meant bustling about daily, hard at work. Making stands, making signs, filling out and filing paperwork, all in preparation for the upcoming festivities. It was undoubtedly the hardest the council had worked in years.

And it was all thanks to one girl.

The door burst open, and the girl in question entered the council room with energy and gusto. She was a blue-haired beauty, glasses and a grin on her face, surrounded by an aura of pride and determination.
This young woman was Shizune Hakamichi, the president and woman in charge of the enforcement of student laws and social reforms. Well, she wasn't technically president, not yet, but since she was the one pushing unprecedented changes in the council, she had become something of a de facto leader. She waved to her fellow council members.

A couple of the students nearby who noticed her entrance began greeting her with waves and smiles, but it wasn't sufficient. There were still a few people who were not giving their fullest attention, even though it was absolutely required at that moment.

It seemed Shizune would have to use her secret weapon.

Hand raised, she placed her finger to her thumb and, in a swift motion, SNAPPED, a sound that cracked across the room louder than a snap should ever sound.

The whole room was at attention then. They paused in the middle of their labor to view the source of that sound. She didn't use it often, but she did use it enough that they knew by now exactly who the source was.

In the hand that hadn't produced an ear-shattering noise, Shizune held a paper form, filled out in neat handwriting. She passed it off to secretary, who began dutifully reading it.

"Uhh... the drama club has turned in their form," the girl held up the paper to emphasize, before returning to surveying its contents, "and... they'll be doing a play, of course. So they've begun construction on their sets. And..."

The girl silently read a small part in the additional notes section,  written in Shizune's distinct hand. Her expression shifted between various emotions, her eyes darted from the paper to other council members, and then to Shizune, who motioned for her to continue reading aloud. "... and we'll be helping build those sets too..."

Groans emitted across the room. The low sound of teens talking all at once filled the space, but their complaints, of course, failed to reach Shizune. One of the officers stood and went to the chalkboard that was at the end of the room.

He wrote, simply, [Why can't they do it themselves?]

Shizune gained a look that could only be described as utter disappointment. As if this guy had just asked her what the point of breathing was. She marched over to the chalkboard, snatched the chalk from the boy's hand and wrote with bold strokes:

[IT - IS - OUR - JOB!]

The strength and finality with which she underlined the statement signified that she felt there was nothing more to say than that; however, the glimmer in her eye seemed to be challenging the boy to argue back. He didn't. Instead, he and the other council members rushed to the current president, who wasn't used to dealing with this kind of thing. She simply attempted to wave off their complaints with baseless reassurances.

But she made no effort to halt Shizune's changes. She had stopped making such an effort weeks ago, when she realized she could not match up to her iron will. Even the school was on Shizune's side at this point. All the student council could do was bow to the tyranny that was this second-year and her desire to shape the school--maybe the world, if she had the chance--in her image. Many of them had started out following her head-on into the unknown. Many regretted it.

The other option was to quit. There were already a few members who were showing up less frequently.

A flicker of golden locks approached from the corner of Shizune's eye. She turned to smile at the tall, graceful young lady to which that hair belonged. Of course, the smile would go unseen. It was Lilly Satou, class rep of 2-2, fellow council member, friend and cousin, who stood there, with a lightly troubled expression.

"Ah, Shizune?"

The secretary, who was still recovering from reciting to the whole council a message of doom, noticed the two and rushed over.

"Ah--! Yes, Hakamichi-san is here!" Immediately, she was pulled by Shizune, who tugged Lilly with her other hand, toward a desk. She was very familiar with the method these two used to communicate, and so she passed a paper and a pen to Lilly who, despite her lack of sight, neatly wrote out:

[Hello.]

Shizune quickly wrote back, [Hello, Lilly. Is there something you wanted to talk about?] and watched as the third girl read it aloud so that Lilly could hear.

This method of communication wasn't terribly ineffective. It worked. But Shizune hated it.

[You've found more work for everyone to do?]

It bothered her. Reading words like this, writing words back. Short-distance mail.

[No. More work has appeared for us to do.]

It wasn't having a middle-man that annoyed her so much, though she wished even that wasn't necessary. It was this act in particular. Writing everything. Writing her thoughts on paper, communicating via lines and symbols, over an awkward spacing of time, instead of the subtle tics of facial expressions and hand gestures in the immediate moment.

[Well, surely the drama club can do most of it on their own, can't they?]

The problem, though amplified here, wasn't only present when she conversed with Lilly. She knew an entire language of the body with which she could speak, but not a soul in this room understood it besides her.  She barely associated with the very few people in the school who did.

It was just like at home.

[Sure, but isn't it more fun for us this way?]

Of course, if she could use the Brailler, it would be simpler for her to communicate with her cousin. But she didn't understand Braille. Nobody in this room did, except Lilly. In that sense, it was something they had in common. At least for her, there were enough eye-impaired people for a whole class.

She noticed Lilly wrinkle her brow as she wrote, [There are many here who would disagree.]

Shizune pouted. Of course there were people who disagreed; even if she couldn't hear their protests she was very aware of their faces and body language. Not to mention that the air of discontent was almost palpable.

[Of course they would. They're used to directionless meetings and simple paper filing. Boring things! If a man tries a delicious rare steak for the first time, he'll think it's disgusting because he's used to ruined, tasteless well-done steak.]

Lilly frowned as she listened.

[I don't think that's a very apt analogy.]

Shizune sighed, far too long for it to be an ordinary breath. The secretary began to grow nervous.

[Fine, then look at this way: your career choice out of]-- she flipped the paper over and continued writing --[university will be a hundred times harder work than some retail job at a convenience store. But in the end, won't it be a thousand times more rewarding?]

As the secretary breathlessly read her words, Shizune watched the features on Lilly's face turn from a frown to a resigned smile.

[You shouldn't underestimate the work involved in retail. But you've made your point. Still, please understand that there are people here who have other obligations to attend to.]

Shizuned smiled and adjusted her glasses.

[So long as they know that the student council is as important an obligation as any other.]

She gave the secretary a look that said "this applies to you too," who responded with a flustered nod.
This time it was Lilly who sighed, though it was shorter and softer than Shizune's.

[Certainly. Tea later?]

Shizune didn't write a response. She merely nodded, and the middle-woman conveyed that response as a yes. It was all she needed to say. Shizune crumpled their note paper and threw it toward the trash bin. It bounced off the rim and landed in.

2 points, Hakamichi.

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Steam rose and danced from the tea cup held in Shizune's hand. She sat alone in the little teahouse in town. Earlier, there had been a small group of Yamaku students sitting around this table, chatting among themselves, discussing the future of the student council. Now, it was just her. Through the window, she could see clouds hanging overhead. But so far, there was no rain. She looked at the napkin held in her other hand. It was covered in writing.

[Lately, less members have shown up.  In the past two weeks our numbers have dwindled significantly.]

There was a list of names.

[I'm sure they're just busy with other things.]

[Other things! What 'other things' can keep them away for so many days in a row?]

[This is a busy time for some people. There are lots of things to be done.]

[Yeah, like student council work!]

That last exclamation took up far too much space than it needed to. Or maybe it needed the extra space. It was the vital center of the conversation. It was the subject of the argument. Every argument.

She and Lilly had argued often lately.

[But that's just busywork, isn't it?]

She felt anger rise again in her, rereading it. Busywork? All of the things she's done for this council amounted to nothing more than busywork?

[No. It's important work. That's why the student council does it, for the sake of the whole school.]

[Shizune. You don't really think that, do you?]

How condescending. How infuriating.

[Of course I do! Unlike you, I understand the importance of working hard to reach a goal!]

She wasn't really sure when they started being arguments, instead of disagreements. She wasn't sure when casual debates started making her angry, when Lilly's worried brows became furled and upset. When the council secretary started showing up less to avoid being in the middle of it all.

At this point in the conversation, Lilly had spent a good minute or so frowning, pen in hand. It wasn't really a frown of anger. Thinking back on it, Shizune felt a little guilty for making that expression appear on Lilly's face. She did know her circumstances, after all. But she was still angry.

Lilly wrote, [I think I should just go.]

And then there was a doodle of a cat. [<--Don't do that, please.] (In the secretary's nervous handwriting nearby, a 'sorry!'). [Lilly, do you think leaving will resolve this issue?]

[No, but neither will staying and I don't want this to escalate again. Shizune, here's an idea: if the current council stops coming, then maybe we should find new members. Ones that will want to do your work, since it's so immutably important to you.

Bye.]

Her hand balled into a fist, crushing that napkin with it. Of COURSE Lilly had to get the last word. It was exactly like her to do that, and with some reasonable argument as if she had the upper hand. It pissed her off even more.

Droplets of water began to land upon the outside of the window, falling slowly down, leaving little liquid trails.

Obviously, Lilly was right. If people were going to stop showing, the best option was to try to recruit new members to replace the ones who quit. It's not as though Shizune hadn't thought of that exact thing herself. But she had refused to do it up until that point. A part of her refused to believe that council members were quitting. And quitting because of her. Were her ideas really that bad? Had she done something so wrong?

She pushed those thoughts away. Downing her tea quickly, she left some money on the table and swiftly moved toward the exit.

A waitress called out, "Ah, pl-please come aga-- ahh, I mean--!" And though Shizune had passed her without noticing, and was already gone, the waitress squeezed her eyes shut behind small glasses and bowed anyway.

Back at the student council room, Shizune immediately went to a cabinet and pulled out a folder. She began sifting through class records. Her own class was pointless; she'd already spent many a day attempting to recruit members to the student council. If anybody from her class wanted to join, they would already be in the council. In fact, some of them were.

Or they had been.

She set aside the attendance sheets for Lilly's class--one copy in writing, one in Braille--and continued looking. She would remember to ask Lilly to try recruiting in her own class, she knew many of the students there loved and respected her. If Lilly was serious about what she wrote, if she was serious about the student council at all, she would do that, at least.

That would leave the first year classes and the remaining second year classes. Maybe the third years as well, though she had a feeling it would be harder to recruit her seniors. She could only hope that the council's reputation wasn't already ruined in the eyes of others at this school.

The corners of the papers were wet. She hadn't even realized she tracked in rain. Out the window, it was pouring harder than it had been a few moments ago. She pinched the bridge of her nose, her glasses resting atop her hand. Well, she wasn't going anywhere soon, so it was best to wait the rain out.

She left the room to find the vending machines, and bought a can of warm tea and plastic-wrapped, flavored bread. She had just been drinking aromatic, freshly-brewed tea less than an hour ago, but this would have to do for her dinner. Work came first. She clasped the can between her cold hands as she walked down the quiet hallway. Because this was a boarding school, there was never a shortage of students still hanging around the classrooms at this hour, but the numbers were much smaller than during class hours. It was almost silent, and the overhang outside darkened the whole building. She shivered. It was the sort of shiver that started in her soul.

Returning to the council room, she set her food and drink aside and took attendance sheets in hand. She would search through each student to see if they were fit for student council. To see if anything on their records said they were council material. She decided to start with her fellow second years.

One by one, she checked off names. That guy was in a sports club, there's no way he'd quit for the council. That girl often skipped out of class, how undiligent. And so on, until she would have a list of students that would work well with the council.

A particular name caught her eye. Shiina Mikado. Class 2-1. She didn't have exceptional grades, in fact the girl could really use some help studying, but there was a factor that interested Shizune. She was taking sign language courses.

The truth was, Yamaku had a fair number of deaf and impaired hearing students. However, most of those students already knew sign language as their primary form of communication. As a result of this, the sign language learners classes were very low in enrollment. The numbers seemed to get lower every year. Which was a shame, because Yamaku had renowned and respected sign language classes and teachers.

The interesting thing about this Mikado was that she was not deaf. Shizune cross-referenced this girl's name with several records on paper and in the aging council computer, and confirmed that this girl's disability was not lack of hearing ability. In fact, according to ther admissions papers, her very reason for enrolling in the school was to learn sign language.

She reached into her pocket, pulling out a crumpled napkin with ink writing dotting its planes and folds. She crushed it harder in her fist, before dropping it into the trash. Shiina Mikado would be a valuable asset to the council. She had to have her.

The following day, the students of class 2-1 noticed a bespectacled girl lurking around during break times, scanning the classroom. When people tried to ask her what her business was, the only answers they received were of this girl making gestures they did not recognize, let alone understand, followed by a look of frustration.

At lunch, Shizune returned, this time with a paper in hand. When one of the girls of the class approached her, she thrust the paper into her hand. Confused, the girl took a look at it.

It read, [I am from the Student Council. I have business with Shiina Mikado.]

The girl had an expression of recognition on her face, and a warm smile. She said something to which Shizune respectfully nodded, and the turned to the class and called out.

A girl near the back of the class turned at her name being called. She had long, chestnut hair cascading down her back. Her eyes were a brown that was almost golden, and though she smiled in their direction, she sat alone and looked terribly alone.

The girl at the door was talking. Mikado stood from her seat and approached them, and began to chat with the other girl. Shizune was losing her patience. Finally, the other girl went to her desk, upon which sat an unfinished lunch, and left Shizune and Mikado alone at the door. Mikado spoke, her lips silently moving with words Shizune didn't care to attempt to read.

Instead, Shizune signed,

[Hello.]

The girl's cheery smile faltered. She began to speak again, nerviously fidgeting.

Shizune signed again, [You're in the sign language class. Use sign language, won't you?]

Mikado looked very nervous at that point, and a bit like a deer trapped in headlights. She looked around the room, chewing her bottom lip, before frantically gesturing for Shizune to follow her to her desk. Reluctantly, she went along, only to see Mikado pull out a pen and a sheet of paper and write on it.

[Sorry, but would you happen to be deaf?], was all she wrote and handed the pen to Shizune.

The recipient stared at the girl who had written this for an unnerving amount of time. That stare, of course, only served to make her even more nervous. Suddenly, Shizune cut their impromptu staring contest short with a swift motion that caused Mikado to jump in her seat. She had deftly crossed out the words, a gesture of refusal.

With her hands, she commanded, [Use. Sign. Language.]

Mikado's fingers twitched and interlocked. Her hands appeared to be shaking ever so slightly. She was in a sweat, though the smile on her face never disappeared. She picked up the pen once more and wrote out, [Can you please use the paper?]

After reading it carefully, Shizune's face twisted into a frightening expression. In another swift motion, she slapped her hand onto the paper and brushed it off the desk. It flew away to the side and lightly floated to the floor.

Mikado looked deathly afraid. Shizune put her hands together and said,

[How can you not understand sign? You're in a class for it!]

Mikado was mumbling, although she could be shouting at the raging winds for all it mattered. Shizune was about to send her hands into an outrageous flurry of frustration when she felt a light tap on her shoulder. It was one of Mikado's classmates. This broke her from her single track on the one girl, and she noticed around her that the seats were full again, and that the teacher was standing at the front of the class.

Her face flushed red. She glanced at the clock. How could she had not noticed that class was starting? She was usually so attentive about this. Attending class was of course very important to her, second to student council.

She shot Mikado a look, signed, [I'm not done with you,] and made her way out of the classroom, avoiding eye contact with the teacher who had an annoyed look on his face.