The Clean Hands Doctrine. In a modern society that values good faith and sincerity, someone with a “scar on their shin” (a guilty conscience) cannot receive official relief.
“And for those ‘outcasts,’ we, the Literature Club, serve as the final fortress… the safety net!!”
That was the Club President’s definition, overflowing with self-affirmation. I wondered how many people would actually be convinced by that explanation.
To me, it felt no different than a cult rebranding itself as a self-help seminar, but the devout Shishihara pressed her hands together as if gazing upon a Bodhisattva. “Wow, so cool!”
“Like the Abarenbo Shogun? Or Toyama no Kin-san? A dark hero who conquers evil with evil!”
“Dark…? You realize the Shogun and Kin-san are both representatives of public authority, right?”
“True. We’re probably closer to something like Batman.”
“Since we have a ‘Bat’ (Komori) right here,” she added. It was rare for Saku-senpai to tease me with that joke.
She herself was known by the alias “Succubus-senpai.” Unlike me, whose nickname was just a play on my surname, hers was a legitimate ‘Myudent’ title. She could make anyone she met eyes with or touched fall for her—it sounds impressive when put into words, but there were few occasions where she actually showed it off.
“Heh, Batman, huh~ Oh, then I’ll be that one. Cat… Catman?”
“Catwoman. Go have your costume party somewhere else.”
“Huh?! Are you saying I’m not sexy enough?!”
“No. Halloween is months away, so this festive mood is…”
“What are you saying? A festival is happening very soon.”
“…?!”
At that moment, I felt a twitch in my temple.
“Right! Exactly! I only survived the exam period because I was looking forward to it~”
“…………?!”
My veins began to throb even more violently.
“So, so, what is our club going to do?”
“I was just thinking we should all discuss that together.”
Unaware of my state, the two girls laughed harmoniously.
Damn it, what’s so funny?—Wait, feeling alienated was the wrong reaction.
It wasn’t just them; at this time of year, our entire school was wrapped in a flighty atmosphere. This was because, at the same time they were released from the cramming of exam prep, the single greatest “fun event” for a student was waiting.
However, there are exceptions to every rule.
“And so… for the Cultural Festival in June, we in the Literature Club are going to make our move in earnest!”
While Saku-senpai pumped her fist into the air, one man fell to his knees.
—Ah, I wish it could stay May forever.
In short, I was someone who was terrible at “Cultural Festivals.”
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The next day, during the fourth period long homeroom.
“As a result of the vote, our class has decided on a ‘Japanese Cafe.’”
When Maihama Aoi, standing at the podium, circled the words [Japanese-style Cafe] on the blackboard with a flower mark, cheers of “It’s here!” and “Alright!” erupted from the classroom.
The topic was the “Cultural Festival attraction.”
As a custom at our school, first-years are generally limited to “exhibition-type” events (which are boring and plain). Once you move up to the second year, “food and beverage-type” events are finally unlocked. By the final year, anything goes, including self-produced films and dance musicals.
Therefore, it was a safe conclusion for us second-years to open a cafe.
“Hey, hey, heeeey. Can I ask one thing?”
There was one person raising an objection. It was Takizawa Kanata, the ace of the soccer club and a representative of the “trashy playboy” types.
“What is it, Takizawa-kun?”
“Is it okay to make the girl staff wear mini-skirt maid outfits?”
It was a question bordering on sexual harassment. If I were the umpire, I would have sent him off immediately, but Maihama, known for her good character, didn’t even flinch.
“Maids? It depends on the design, but I don’t think they’d fit a ‘Japanese Cafe.’”
“Does that mean sexy kimonos like an Oiran are okay?”
“Rejected.”
Takizawa the Idiot, who was cut down with a smile, still tried to push back, saying, “The Entertainment District Arc was animated, though!” but the chime rang just in time—Game Set.
“Well then, I’ll take requests for menus and interior design, including costumes, later, so everyone please think about it… within the bounds of common sense, of course!”
With that final jab at one specific person, the long homeroom ended.
Moving seamlessly into the lunch break, the classroom was instantly dyed in a single color of conversation: “Matcha lattes are a must,” “The profit margin on shaved ice is insane,” “Hakama with boots is the best East-meets-West combo,” and so on. Despite the difference in productivity, the topic was unified.
Wonderful solidarity for a class that had been formed less than two months ago.
To be precise, their cooperation was merely being boosted by the “lubricant” known as the Cultural Festival. Some find lifelong friends through this; some even end up dating. The average lifespan of the latter is about a month, but regardless, the Cultural Festival holds that much magical power.
I wish I could be put under that spell too.
“What’s up? You have a very difficult look on your face.”
The one who approached me with a smile was Maihama, who had been presiding over the meeting just moments ago. Her upright posture suggested perfect conduct, and her facial features looked incredibly intelligent. You’d instinctively want to call her “Class Rep”—well, she actually is the class representative. She’s an honor student who also serves on the Student Council Executive Committee.
“Could it be that Komori-kun is a fundamentalist who says, ‘I won’t accept anything but maid outfits for cafe staff!’?”
“Don’t lump me in with that moron.”
“If it’s something with less exposure, there’s room for consideration. If we make it look like a Jinbaori (samurai surcoat), it would fit the Japanese atmosphere…”
“You actually want to try wearing it yourself, don’t you?”
“You caught me?” Maihama said, sticking out her tongue. She, too, was under the spell without exception.
“…Why do Cultural Festivals even exist?”
“Ah, true, most schools do them in November. Our school has the Sports Festival around then, so balancing the two—”
“No, I’m asking about the raison d’être of the Cultural Festival.”
To my admittedly annoying question, she went, “Hmm, well…” Like a true Class Rep, she took a polite moment to think before clapping her hands.
“I guess the main thing is making memories, right?”
“You say that as if only positive memories are born from it.”
“You say that as if there are negative memories… wait, do you have some?”
“It would be a lie to say I don’t.”
Memories of middle school inevitably resurfaced.
Back then, when I still had the clear eyes of a fresh fish, I was made to serve as a Student Council officer. I was involved in the management side of the school festival for all three years—and boy, was it awful.
To put it simply, it was the “exploitation of motivation.”
Among the faculty, there was a prevailing fixed notion that a Cultural Festival is a “work of art created by the students’ own hands.” Under the name of “autonomy,” everything from planning to preparation was left entirely to the students.
“—The fundamental problem is that it was a joint event for the middle and high school, so the number of visitors was insane… there was no way we could handle it.”
“Ah, Komori-kun, you’re from Kitashiraito, right? I heard about 10,000 people come every year.”
“Even so, we were scraping by. But in our generation, incidents of voyeurism, harassment, and nuisance behavior toward female students became frequent. Finally, a full-day ticket system was introduced.”
“Oh dear. That might be rare for a co-ed school.”
“And just when you think it’s over, ticket reselling became rampant.”
“Wow, it’s a bargain sale of social problems.”
Truly the end of the world—ah, I really don’t want to remember any more.
“See? Not fun at all, right?”
Maihama listened to me sympathetically, but her final conclusion was this:
“Isn’t all of that, including the bad stuff, part of a ‘good memory’?”
“Our views differ drastically.”
“But in a way, it’s just as I expected.”
“That my life was predictably gray?”
“It’s plenty rose-colored, so don’t worry. What I meant was… not just the Cultural Festival, but events or celebrations in general. I had an image that Komori-kun would be bad at them. Things like ‘Day of XX’ on the calendar must be your natural enemies.”
“…………”
Being exposed to Maihama’s straight gaze made me feel like she could see through everything.
“Sharp. As expected of my former stalker.”
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