Jaku chara tomozaki kun chapter 4

4
When a mentor character becomes a boss, they’ll push you to the edge
It was the day of the election. School-wide assemblies take place about once a month, always on Fridays five minutes after homeroom begins. Today, that’s when the campaign speeches were going to happen. I usually show up right before assemblies start, but today I had some preparations to take care of, and anyway, I couldn’t calm down, so I headed to the gym early.

When I left homeroom, I spotted Hinami walking just ahead of me. Even from behind, I could tell it was her from that charismatic strut. Until last week, we’d been talking every day, but for the past few days, we hadn’t talked at all.

I caught up with her and called out in an almost challenging way—I’d never use this tone with anyone else.

“Hey.”

Without turning her head, Hinami shifted her gaze coolly in my direction.

“Oh, Tomozaki-kun. You seem well today.”

Her tone was as ironic as always.

“I am, I’m happy to say.”

“Glad to hear it. I see you every day in class, but…it’s been a while.” Hinami grinned broadly.

“Yeah, Hinami. It has.” I couldn’t help smiling.

“Still got that creepy smile, I see.”

“Yup, thanks to the muscle training you taught me.”

“I don’t think I taught you to smile like that. Here, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Hinami displayed a perfect feminine smile, one so flawless, it made my heart skip a beat even though I knew it was fake.

“As usual, you win.”

This time, Hinami’s smile was victorious. It wasn’t flawless, but in my opinion, it suited her better. “Sounds like you’ve been busy.”

“Well, of course, considering our opponent.”

“I see. It’s been rough going, I imagine.”

“It is what it is. But I don’t want to hear that from you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“No, thank you.”

We had to catch up on a couple days’ worth of banter.

“I’ve been bored this week, not playing against nanashi.” She sighed. We’d taken a break from Atafami for a few days.

“Really? That’s a strange thing to say.”

“…How so?”

I glanced sidelong at her. “I mean, nanashi was under the impression he’d been playing NO NAME all along this week.”

“Well, well,” Hinami said, smiling happily in contrast to her flat tone. “Does that mean I have something to look forward to today?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

We were almost at the gym. I quickened my pace and pulled ahead of Hinami. Then I stepped onto the stage where today’s battle would play out—the gym. I glanced back at Hinami.

“All I can say is, nanashi did his best.”

I turned back toward the gym and walked to the wings of the stage.

* * *

“That wraps up my advisory to the Aoi Hinami Fan Club—I mean, my speech in support of Aoi Hinami.”

The gym erupted in laughter at the boy’s voice coming over the speakers.

“—Thank you, Takahiro Mizusawa-kun.”

At length, the laughter changed to applause. Mizusawa’s speech had been an extension of the smooth, funny talks he’d been giving outside the school. Yeah, he was a tough one to beat. I had listened from the wings of the stage, where I was permitted to stand as a member of Mimimi’s campaign team. After he was done, he walked toward me.

Mimimi was standing next to me. She seemed restless, licking her lips and touching her nose as she stared at her speech. Hinami was waiting in the wings on the other side.

Maybe because he noticed how nervous Mimimi was, Mizusawa didn’t try to talk to her as he walked past. And then the moment arrived.

“And next, please welcome student council candidate Aoi Hinami-san to the stage to deliver her speech.”

Hinami walked jauntily up to the podium in the center. Just the sight of her beautiful figure and slight smile as she stood in front of the podium was enough to charm the audience.

She gracefully raised one arm to face level, turned her palm toward the spectators, then brought it to her chest. My eyes followed her every movement seemingly of their own will.

“Good morning. I’m Aoi Hinami.”

Her lovely, strong voice rippled like a drop of water through the moment of silent attention her hand movements had created.

Hinami’s speech had begun.

“Thank you for giving me the opportunity to speak to you today.”

She gave a slow, shallow bow to the audience. More than the content of her speech, it was the pace of the words and the pauses woven in between that seized the attention of her onlookers.

“Today is the student council election…”

She smiled brightly. Her fake smile was way too cute.

“I bet I can guess what many of you are thinking right now.”

She turned both of her palms up.

“‘Eh, doesn’t matter who wins.’”

She did a voice to go with it, one that sounded like a dubbed voice-over for a romantic comedy from overseas, and a ripple of laughter passed through the audience. The next instant, though, Hinami’s face had grown solemn as she raised one finger into the air.

“But I have something to say to all of you who think so.”

The students who had been laughing a moment earlier fell silent like children who had been scolded for poor manners. Hinami paused very briefly, then brought her finger around to the front and aimed it at the audience. She raised one eyebrow, smiled an ever-so-slightly silly smile, and continued.

“You’re right.”

The audience roared with laughter. Huh. She wasn’t doing anything special. Just going for simple jokes. But she pulled off those jokes beautifully—keeping her face animated, startling you for a moment, and then swooping in for the punch line while you were still off your guard. The audience was under the spell of her every word and movement, taken in completely by NO NAME. I was no exception.

Hinami smiled shyly, a little vulnerably. The audience and I couldn’t tear our eyes away.

“Jokes aside, though…it’s not easy to make big changes in the span of one year as student council president.”

From there on out, the mood was under her control.

“But as far as I am able, I promise to do what I can to make life at this school better. Instead of pursuing unrealistic dreams, I’ll start with what’s achievable and go from there. I see that as my role… Fellow students, are there things about this school that bother you?”

For a moment, the gym was dead silent.

“There are many things that bother me.”

Suddenly her tone was vulnerable and innocent. Laughter rose from the audience.

“I’m sure none of you is completely satisfied with the current state of our school. For example—”

The corners of Hinami’s mouth turned up very slightly, just enough for me to see from my position in the wings—at least, I thought they did. A vague dread spread through me.

“The selection of items at the school store isn’t good, and the sports festival is too small. The field is too bumpy, and maybe you want an electric pump. Maybe you’d like to be able to ask for a larger serving at the cafeteria.”

For a second, my mind went blank.

Among the examples she listed were some from our platform, and most importantly, the electric pump I’d come up with as a way to gain core voters. Next to me, Mimimi looked up in shock.

Hinami continued.

“I’d like to address those demands one by one.”

That’s when I realized.

We’d been crushed.

Head-on. Our strategy had been demolished. Maybe not everything, but at least the votes we’d bought with the electric pump promise. Plus part of the support we’d gained through the platform. Crushed with a single phrase. She’d address those demands one by one. The audience, too, simmered with gasps at those strong words.

“But—”

And she wasn’t done. The audience and I waited for her next words.

“If I went around making lots of promises like those, some people might wonder if I could really achieve them all. That’s why I’ve decided to make just one big campaign promise.”

One by one she bent down the fingers she’d raised until only the pointer finger on her right hand was still in the air.

“That promise is—”

She paused.

In that pause, dread once again washed over me. I thought about her powers of deduction, analysis, and implementation.

I thought about the electric pump among the examples she’d listed a moment earlier.

Most of all, I thought about her playstyle—using overwhelming effort to challenge her opponents head-on.

She didn’t insist she was right and fight according to her own rules. She climbed into the ring, played by its established rules, and she won.

Taking all of that into consideration, NO NAME could only arrive at one possible answer.

Hinami slowly parted her lips.

“—That promise is to install an air conditioner in every single classroom.”

Turns out I had everything to fear.

“Fweeeee!”

Somewhere in the audience, someone—probably someone popular and influential—whistled with their fingers.

Cue wild applause… Okay, that only happens on TV, but a healthy murmur made up of students whispering to one another about Hinami’s declaration swept through the audience. Even if it wasn’t loud, the mood was weirdly feverish.

Still…promising to put an air conditioner in every class wasn’t convincing. I’d implemented a similar strategy, but I’d decided it was so unrealistic, it could lose us votes, so we’d only made that promise to the first-year students. Mimimi had talked about how it would be great to include that as a talking point in the speech, but we’d decided it wasn’t possible because no one would ever believe us.

But Hinami had just calmly made the same promise to the entire school, right in front of the teachers, and as her only campaign promise to boot.

I just couldn’t see any way this was a good idea.

But I couldn’t help questioning myself.

Maybe she really could pull it off. If Aoi Hinami said she could… If Aoi Hinami made that her only campaign promise…

That’s when I realized:

This was a head-on charge.

She’d built up a lot of trust in the past. She’d proven herself. People probably thought, If Aoi can’t do it, no one can. And, She might even be able to get us AC. She was bulldozing us with all that trust she had accumulated through raw effort.

To top it off, she was making AC her only promise.

For Mimimi and me, promising AC was unrealistic. It was a weapon we couldn’t fully manipulate. For Hinami, on the other hand, it was child’s play. She was showing us she could turn it into a realistic, powerful campaign promise.

In other words, she’d invested more than we had.

“I bet you remember how awful last summer was. This year is shaping up to be just as bad.”

She was riding the crowd’s enthusiasm with rapid-fire statements.

“Installing air conditioners may be a tall order. After all, Sekitomo High School hasn’t managed to do it in all the years since its founding. Maybe the prefectural government has something against us.”

Another light wave of laughter from the audience.

“I can think of a lot of reasons why. Because of our location, our school doesn’t get quite as hot as other schools. Our academic record as a prep school is good, but our clubs don’t do as well. Et cetera, et cetera.”

She listed the possible reasons, sounding troubled.

“But, my fellow students. Did you know that one of those reasons has recently dropped off the list?”

She smiled broadly. A little too broadly, so the audience would understand.

“The track club has been doing very well lately.”

For a moment, the audience was silent, but then a few good-natured retorts came from who I assume were members of the track team.

“Tooting your own horn, huh?”

“Yeah, nationals, baby!”

That tipped off the rest of the audience to her meaning, and whispers swept through the room like a tornado.

I couldn’t help feeling excited, too. She was using the achievements of the track team, achievements that she herself was responsible for, as a weapon to pull in the audience.

“I think this ought to satisfy a lot of people at the top. What do you think?”

Spontaneous applause. Damn she was good. Totally fearless, yet also totally rational.

She’d now won over most of the audience. But that wasn’t enough.

There was still the second iron rule of mood manipulation that she’d taught me.

Her speech had already convinced most students that they would gain something if she was elected. They all shared her vested interest. Even if some people weren’t convinced, she’d probably stolen practically every first-year vote we’d gained. What she hadn’t done yet was persuade the most vocal people.

She’d be in good shape if her track-club strategy had won them over. But what if it hadn’t? The teachers could wipe out all her support with one comment. “Air conditioners?” they might say. “Only children would believe they could do that.” If they were concerned about candidates collecting votes with empty promises, they might even make a public announcement after the speech such as, “Our school will not install air-conditioning.”

The instant that happened, Hinami’s strategies would be reduced to ash. Her very reputation would take a serious hit.

So what would she do? Did she have another more realistic goal in mind? Or…

Before I could arrive at an answer, she continued speaking.

“Nevertheless, in practical terms, installing air conditioners in every classroom will be quite difficult to achieve.”

Although her language was proper and formal, her clear voice and intonation prevented her from sounding stiff.

“At this very moment, I see some of the teachers looking skeptical.”

With a graceful gesture, she waved toward the staff seating area. The rest of the audience and I followed with our eyes. The teachers were smirking uncomfortably. Contrasted with Hinami’s confident smile, they looked weak and unreliable, which made Hinami appear even more trustworthy.

“When my speech ends and the assembly is over, I can guess what they’ll be saying to each other.”

She grinned.

“‘AC in every class? How stupid can you get?’”

Huh. So that’s what her strategy was. To bring up possible arguments before her enemy had a chance to, then deflate them. Slick talkers did it all the time. Minimizing the potential damage from teachers—a move worthy of Hinami.

Just as that thought passed through my mind, she continued.

“And you know what?”

“They’ll be saying it in the verrrrry well air-conditioned teacher’s lounge.”

Ouch.

After a moment of silence, the audience burst into laughter. Even in my shock, I felt laughter bubbling up in my own chest.

What the hell?

The laughter of the audience thundered in my ears so loudly, I could feel Hinami’s superior ability in my bones.

When I came up with Mimimi’s platform, and when I came up with the AC strategy, too, I was constantly thinking about what the teachers would think and weighing that against the student view. That’s why I’d come up with excuses related to school spirit and student convenience for everything in the platform. The content of the speech was a compromise, too, taking into account the powers we were up against. That wasn’t a bad thing. Normally, it was necessary.

But Hinami wasn’t normal.

Aoi Hinami forged her own path.

She’d used all her effort and her accomplishments and the trust she’d built to bulldoze the teachers head-on, just as she’d done to the rest of us. It was the same old NO NAME playstyle: use overwhelming effort to charge her opponents head-on. She was crushing them just as she’d crushed my pandering platform, electric pumps, and AC strategy. Even when she was going up against teachers, she climbed into the ring and obliterated them. It didn’t matter who her opponent was. Her fighting style never changed. She was terrifyingly consistent.

“To conclude, I promise to work hard on a range of issues! If you agree with what I’ve said today, cast your vote for Aoi Hinami! It’s hexactly the right thing to do!”

With that, she strutted off the stage to thunderous applause. I couldn’t stop myself from clapping along with the audience. Maybe I meant it as a show of respect.

Hinami walked to our side of the stage and right past me without even looking my way. At first, I thought she was ignoring me.

“Still think you can win?”

But as she passed, she whispered a few words in that oh-so-familiar proud and confident voice, just loudly enough for me and no one else to hear.

* * *

“Thanks, guys!”

An energetic, feminine voice rang from the speakers placed around the gym. The audience broke out in applause.

“Thank you, Yumiko Yamashita-san.”

I could tell Yamashita-san had been a little nervous, but her sports-announcer-style energy came together with the lively content of her speech to convey her likable personality to the audience. The mood was better than I’d expected; she’d done an amazing job considering she had to follow that display of brute force from Hinami. Yeah, it’s a good thing I wasn’t in her role.

Next came the crucial moment.

“I’d like to introduce our next candidate for student council president, Minami Nanami-san.”

That was when I swung into action.

Using the stairs in the wings, I headed for the little pseudo-balconies near the roof on either side of the gym. I had an excuse ready if I was stopped, but since I made sure to act like I belonged there, no one interfered and I reached the upper level without incident.

“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

I could hear the audience laughing. I couldn’t hear Mimimi’s speech, but she was probably at the part where she imitated our teacher. Obviously, it didn’t come out of the blue; it was woven into the rest of her speech: “Ms. Kawamura said such-and-such, so I decided to run.” That was Mimimi’s idea. In hindsight, my original version probably would have flopped; it was too abrupt.

I took out my smartphone, turned the volume up as high as it could go, and made sure everything was ready. Then I turned the speakers toward the audience so they would hear it as clearly as possible.

Okay. All I had to do now was wait in hiding up here and be ready for any unexpected developments. I strained to hear Mimimi’s speech. She didn’t sound bad—geez, I sounded like a snob just then. She sounded good. The audience was laughing now and then, and I could see some students nodding. Still, if I was honest with myself, she wasn’t doing as well as Hinami—but that was more a testament to how well Hinami had done.

On top of that, the structure of the speeches was similar. That was my fault. Well, the content was completely different, but they were still both based on the two core principles of mood manipulation. I mean, I had structured it around the rules Hinami had taught me. In a sense, my speech was just an inferior version of Hinami’s.

“…Shit.”

I felt like someone had caught me off guard in Atafami and escaped my combo. I bit my lip.

…I’d been so full of myself.

Hinami had taught me some of the rules of life, and I thought they’d be enough to allow me to fight on the stage of the speech. Plus, I’d had access to an A-tier character. I’d thought I—that is, nanashi—was good enough to give Hinami a run for her money with a few tricks and a character with a good moveset.

“…I’m ashamed I thought it would be that easy.”

She’d put in the effort, and she had the experience. And she had the drive.

Hinami’s speech was packed with everything she needed to win no matter what, and to win by an overwhelming majority, without losing a single vote. No matter how you looked at it, she’d given it her all and she hadn’t messed around. I’d learned a couple rules, and I thought I could use them like a pro. Well, she wasn’t the kind of opponent you could beat with unearned arrogance. I was embarrassed to have miscalculated so drastically.

“But…”

I still had to show her nanashi had guts. Mimimi was counting on me. I couldn’t give up now.

I waited quietly.

“Of course, it’s all for the sake of boosting Sekitomo High School’s school spirit…”

She’d finished explaining the platform, and now she was wrapping up. That was the moment.

Fweeep! Fweeep! Fweeep! Fweeep!

The scream of a siren echoed through the gym. Mimimi made a show of stopping and looking around, while the audience was in an uproar. Some students were trying to figure out where the noise was coming from; others were pulling out their phones to make sure it wasn’t their own alarm; still others were telling whoever was sitting next to them to check theirs or to be quiet so they could hear what was going on. But no one could tell where the sound was coming from in such a big gym. It was chaos.

“Hey, you guys, be quiet!”

“Someone turn that thing off!”

“I bet they’re hiding it so they don’t get in trouble!”

“Where’s it coming from?”

“Sounds like an iPhone alert, like for an earthquake or something.”

“Yeah, you’re right!”

“I’m in the clear; I’ve got an Android.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Mimimi chose just the right moment to look heroically out over the audience. She coughed once. The mic picked up the sound and amplified it through the speakers. All eyes turned to Mimimi.

“Hey, Siri! Turn off that alarm!”

Mimimi’s voice reached everyone there. Surprised, the audience fell silent.

Bebeep!

“I have turned off the alarm.”

Up in the rafters, I crouched next to my phone as Siri’s voice echoed softly out of the speakers and down to the audience.

Bam!

The audience erupted with as much excitement as it had with Hinami. Yes!

But Mimimi didn’t stop. Another cough blasted over the speakers. The audience fell silent.

“Hey, Siri! Who’s the next student council president gonna be?”

Bebeep!

“I’m Siri, your virtual assistant.”

“No, not your self-introduction!”

Boom. The audience erupted with laughter again. They probably were now thinking of Mimimi as a candidate who could ad-lib when an alarm accidentally went off.

That was my strategy.

There was no way we could beat Hinami with a perfectly polished speech. In which case, we had to fight outside the ring—for instance, by demonstrating how well Mimimi could respond in an unexpected situation.

I couldn’t compete in Hinami’s ring. So I built my own.

Mimimi paused for a minute, then smiled brightly. She coughed again.

“By the way, are you going to vote for me?”

Bebeep!

“Would you like me to search the Web for ‘By the way, are you sewing a tote for me?’”

“What the heck?!”

The audience kept laughing. Then she gave the clincher.

“It looks like Siri’s not going to vote for me, but I hope all of you will!”

Having gotten a final laugh with her parting words, Mimimi walked off the stage waving both hands comically. Okay. We did it. We did it!

I watched in relief as the audience sent Mimimi off with applause and laughter. Then I picked up my phone and climbed back down to the wings of the stage.

* * *

“We did it—”

When I got back to the wings, Mimimi’s head was whipping back and forth, like she’d lost something. The instant she saw me, she came running over and jumped into my arms, whispering excitedly.

“Oof!”

She threw her arms around me. I yelped as quietly as I could, tried not to pay attention to the soft something pressing up against my stomach, and panted, “L-let go…!”

“Coming on too strong for you, Tomozaki?” she said teasingly as she unwrapped her arms. More like too soft than too strong.

“Nice job, Mimimi…and Tomozaki-kun?”

The voice as beautiful as a chiming bell was coming from—you guessed it—Hinami. Wonder how much she had to practice to master such a pleasant whisper… Well, the numbers on her voice recorder tell the story.

Mimimi smiled like a sunflower.

“Thanks, Aoi! Let’s just say a lot went on behind the scenes of this speech, so don’t ask me for the details!”

“Behind the scenes…? Okay, we’ll leave it at that!” Hinami played along.

“Yes, please!” Mimimi chirped. “Just remember Tomozaki deserves a lot of the credit!”

Mimimi grabbed my arm. Wait a second, stop. Once again, her boobs were pressed up against me. I’m not ready for this yet. Isn’t that the kind of attack that should happen in the later stages of the boss fight?

“He does, huh?”

As Hinami made a puzzled face and laughed half-heartedly, Mizusawa showed up.

“Good job out there—huh?”

He looked surprised that Mimimi and I had our arms linked. Mimimi smiled suggestively.

“Takahiro… That’s how things are now.”

“No, it’s not!” I whispered back as forcefully as I could to head off the unwanted implications. Mizusawa and Hinami exchanged glances and nodded, smiling.

“Let’s go.”

With that, the two of them walked out of the wings side by side. Oh yeah—after the speeches we were supposed to join our classes in line.

“…Hey, Tomozaki.”

“Yeah?”

Mimimi gave me a syrupy smile.

“The way those two were acting…doesn’t it seem like they’re dating?”

“What?!”

And all of my attempts to keep quiet went for nothing.

We rejoined our class and listened as Ms. Kawamura made some announcements about student affairs and voting, which caused some snickering since it came right after Mimimi’s impression of her. That wrapped up the assembly. Apparently, anonymous ballots would be handed out, and each student would mark their choice. They could either use the desks and pens set up on our way back to class and stick them in the boxes there or give them to their homeroom teachers before school let out. Campaign managers and candidates weren’t allowed to vote. Huh. Guess I was.

As soon as the assembly ended, Mimimi and Hinami were surrounded by students. Made sense—both of them had gotten the audience excited. I glanced at them as I left the gym by myself.

I stood for a minute in front of the ballot box. I was going to vote for Mimimi, but my gamer spirit and commitment to fair play stopped me. I turned in a blank ballot. I figured one vote wouldn’t matter, and I wanted to do this right.

After school, I was supposed to meet with Hinami for the first time in quite a while. I figured she’d want me to fill her in and review my performance. I felt a complicated mixture of melancholy and anticipation.

But before that was something even more important.

When I left the classroom, I could see a cluster of students at the other end of the hall. Must be what the teacher had mentioned in the final homeroom of the day: At the earliest, the election results might be available today after school.

I glanced back. Mimimi was still in the classroom. I tried to calm my nerves with a few deep breaths as I approached the crowd.

Everyone was looking at one of the postings on the bulletin board.

Student Council Election Results

President

Aoi Hinami:

456 votes

Minami Nanami:

131 votes

I let out the breath I’d been holding, realized I had something more urgent than going to my meeting with Hinami, and headed back to the classroom.

* * *

I found a spot right outside the classroom, where Mimimi wouldn’t be able to see me from where she was chatting with the other normies, and waited. Instead of calling out to her when I already knew what the results were, it would be best to wait until she decided to go see the results for herself and then pretend to bump into her. Or, to be more precise, it was the only way not to make a mess of things. When you’re a bottom-tier character, decisions kind of make themselves.

My phone buzzed. When I checked it, I saw Hinami had sent me a LINE message. I’d sent her a message a minute ago (“Going to be late to the meeting. Might not make it at all. I’ll tell you more later. Sorry.”), and she had just answered.

“I see. Let’s cancel for today,” hers read.

Sorry, Hinami… I know this is my second last-minute cancellation in a row…

I was about to reply when another message arrived from her.

“However, be sure to make some progress in the meantime. Understood?”

…Ha-ha. Nothing got past her. She really was unmatched.

“Understood.”

Hinami’s words fired up my motivation—but all I could do was wait.

“Hey, Tomozaki!”

Mimimi was coming out of the classroom. Hiding my nerves, I put on a light tone.

“Hey. Good work today.”

“Thanks! Same to you!”

Her smile was as bright as ever. This was where it got hard. I introduced the topic just like I’d planned it out in my head.

“By the way, the results are up on the bulletin—”

“I know! Too bad, huh?”

Mimimi cut me off. Huh?

She slapped her forehead and laughed. She wasn’t looking at me.

“Y-you saw already…?”

“No, but my friend sent me a LINE message. So I know!”

“…Oh, really?”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah! I was shook! But getting the news out of the blue actually softened the shock!”

“Ah-ha-ha… A silver lining, huh?”

I was wondering what shook meant, but I figured this wasn’t the right time to ask, so I just played along.

“Exactly! Well, I’ll just have to try for a win again sometime!”

“As they say, failure is the foundation of success.”

“Yes, exactly! Failure is the foundation of success! You always know what to say, Tomozaki. Be positive! Walk with the wind at your back! If you fall, run faster to catch up! That’s the way to go!”

Was Mimimi’s cheerfulness real or fake? A non-normie like me had no idea.

“…Yeah, guess so! You’re on the same sports team as Hinami, and there are plenty of tests to come! And…I’m sure there will be other chances, too! You can fight her again then!”

“Of course!”

Normally, this would be when she thumped my shoulder, but this time the thump didn’t come. Had I simply misread the moment, or was it because I had evaded her last time? Or was there another reason? As usual, I had no idea.

* * *

“Phew…guess I’ll go home.”

Mimimi had headed off to the track after our conversation, saying, “I’ve got practice! Gotta make up for the days I missed for the election!” I still hadn’t gotten a response to the apologetic sandwich of a message I’d sent Hinami fifteen minutes earlier, which read, “Sorry, no progress. Sorry.” I didn’t have anything left to do. Instead of loitering around school, it would be more productive to go home and use the voice recorder to practice my comebacks or something. Yeah, that was a good plan.

I glanced into the classroom, figuring no one would be around since club activities were already going on. But someone was in there—Tama-chan. Her back was to me, but I could tell it was her because of how small she was. She was staring out the classroom window at the field. What was she up to? Whatever, I needed some more independent study!

“No club today?” I called, staying far enough away to avoid surprising her. A creature of the shadows like myself is only permitted so close to a woodland animal like her.

“…Tomozaki.”

Maybe it was because the setting sun backlit her as she turned around, but I sensed something listless to her expression. The sun was shining through her fluffy chestnut hair, giving her a halo. She stepped to the side a little, like she was making room for me, then looked back out the window. Okay, she was telling me to come over to her. Got it. Small but powerful she was.

“What are you looking at?”

I crept cautiously up to her, making every effort to look like I wasn’t cautiously creeping up, and followed her gaze out the window. The track team was practicing. Oh right—you could see the field from here.

“See for yourself,” Tama-chan said, looking gloomily at the field. “Aoi and Minmi are way out ahead of everyone else.”

“Huh.”

I stared at the practice, scrutinizing every detail below me. Just as Tama-chan had said, the two of them ran endlessly on, showing no sign of looking down or placing their hands on their knees. They were fast, and their pauses were short.

“But…Minmi isn’t usually like that. She usually goes at her own pace.”

“Huh. Do you always watch them?”

“No, just occasionally, when I want to skip volleyball practice.” For some reason, she glared at me.

“You’re not skipping tamarrow, are you?”

“N-no, I am not,” she said, looking out the window again.

“I think she’s probably competing with Aoi. I mean, I’m sure she is!”

“Ha-ha-ha…could be.” Tama-chan sounded a little angry. She really did care about Mimimi.

“That was too bad about the election, huh?”

“Oh yeah. It was.” Tama-chan giggled. “That thing with Siri was all planned in advance, right?”

She’d helped me test the sound out, so of course she knew.

“Yeah, it was all staged.”

“Foul play!” Her tone was as serious as ever, but a smile was playing around her lips.

“…But we still didn’t win.”

“Well…you were up against Aoi,” she said as if it was completely obvious.

“So you thought it was a lost cause, too?”

“Yup,” she said plainly. “Aoi’s amazing. You can’t beat her.”

“…Guess you’re right.”

I sighed. Even Tama-chan viewed it that way.

“But Minmi…”

“What?”

“Even if she can’t win, she won’t give in,” she said with a sad smile. “That’s why…”

She looked down. I didn’t know exactly what she meant, but I had a guess.

“I just wish she’d let it go with Aoi.”

“…Hmm.”

“She’s a little…scary? I’m not sure how to put it.”

“…Huh.”

Tama-chan kept going, completely unfiltered. Some of what she said I understood and some I didn’t, but I thought it would be insincere to ask a bunch of detailed questions or pretend to sympathize with her, so I just listened quietly and offered a word or two here and there. I’m not sure if that was a good strategy or not. But I did learn one thing: Like I suspected, Mimimi’s cheerfulness a little earlier was—

“…Oh, sorry! I’ve been talking your ear off!”

“No, don’t worry about it!”

In fact, I hadn’t memorized any topics that would be natural to introduce in this situation, so it was a relief. I was thinking about my own mistakes, too.

“I’m going to head to club now. See you later, Tomozaki!”

“Okay, see you later.”

Tama-chan picked up her bag off her desk, gave me a little wave, and left the classroom. I stayed there for a while, gazing down absently at the track. Hinami was running. Mimimi was running. They worked on their form, stretched, and practiced for specific events. Occasionally, they chatted a bit, but they never relaxed their focus or got any less intense. As their bodies glistened in the sunlight, beaded with the sweat of self-improvement, they were practically shining with determination to make the most of their youth.

—It wasn’t just the two of them, of course. In the heat of summer, all the track team members were out there practicing for hours every day. Of course, that was normal.

They were all working so hard to beat this game, weren’t they?