Ice Queen freezes the cultural festival.

***
Maegahra Shosei

We were already near the halfway point of October. It was only a couple of weeks until the festival, and it was doubtful whether we would make all the songs in time. Moreover, we also didn't have the poetry and some other stuff ready. Our set was elaborate and took a lot of time to make, but that wasn't even our biggest problem. Recently, cutting corners turned into the norm among our classmates. People keep using the lack of time as an excuse to slack off, and the main reason for that was what happened a week ago — Suzuki Yukino's proclamation.

Suzuki-san's announcement shook the mood. Our main singer said she won't perform any songs — that was equivalent to saying we are giving up on the quality we initially planned for. In other words, it was the signal that there was no longer any need to put in a lot of effort. We were already compromising on the music — why not compromise on everything else? The time constraints were too much, so it couldn't be helped. With that logic, the entire class began slacking off.

The mood became more relaxed — tension that previously floated in the air disappeared. At the same time, a part of our class was disappointed with this development. Not just Ishikawa-san's group — some others seemed down, too. As I've discovered through reconnaissance, plenty of our classmates secretly wanted this play to succeed. I didn't know if that was because of the popular Maeda-san and Ishikawa-san supporting the performance or people's desire to have a memorable cultural festival. Probably both to some extent.

I would be pretty happy about this usually, but not now. There was no point in having people's support if Suzuki-san — the cornerstone of our play — refused to participate. Well — she hadn't rejected the role itself, but she did refuse to sing. Either way, it wasn't anything good for us. Just carrying out the play wasn't enough. If we didn't live up to the original concept, it was still as good as a failure. Even now, Kato-san was in the courtyard, trying to convince Suzuki-san, but the Ice Queen was resolute in her decision.

"Yukino-chan, why are you saying no?"

"Because I decided I wasn't in the mood, alright? Besides, the play is too demanding. This way, there will no longer be any conflicts."

That didn't shake Kato-san off, and she stubbornly insisted.

"Please, Yukino-chan. It's important for me," she pleaded, but the response didn't change.

"Sorry, but I can't. It was a bad idea to sing anyway. After all, I hate singing," Suzuki-san said and smiled sadly. Somehow she seemed fragile as she mouthed the last words. As if she would break with the slightest touch. 

Seeing that, Kato-san went quiet. Then, she spoke up in a faint, fleeting voice.

"You are only dishonest when it truly matters..."

The wind blew, slightly swaying the tree of the courtyard. I felt I could hear a silent 'sorry' fall from Suzuki-san's lips, but it disappeared in the faint whispers of the leaves.

***

After overhearing that conversation, I went back to the tasks I had. I still needed to spread the desire for the play to succeed among our classmates. I constantly talked with people who could become our allies, slowly spreading the knowledge that they weren't alone in their opinion. I lamented how sad it was that we wouldn't get to hear Suzuki-san's singing and that our chance at a unique festival could disappear at this rate.

With that thought spiraling in my mind, I finally reached the place I wanted. Or rather, the person I wanted. It was lunch break, so he would surely be in class.

"Itsuki. I need to ask you a favor," I said reluctantly.

In front of me sat Furukawa Itsuki. I came to him because there was something I needed his help with.

***
Furukawa Itsuki

"You know a thing or two about poetry, right? I know that used to be your hobby back in the day," Shosei asked me, looking away to the side.

He obviously felt awkward about asking me a favor when we were in the middle of a bet. It was almost funny how stubborn he could be.

He was right. I used to write poetry a lot when I was younger — to the point of winning original poetry contests in my age group. Truthfully, I still composed from time to time, but I was slightly embarrassed at such a hobby, so I kept it a secret. Regardless, I already knew what he was here for. From the beginning of our play preparations, I was confident he would eventually approach me.

"Yeah, I did. You want to ask me to write for the play, right? I'll do it — after all, I'm a part of the class, so I won't refuse to cooperate."

My reply surprised him, and he seemed confused by my lack of resistance.

"Really? I thought you would be, you know, more reluctant."

"I said, I'll do it, so leave it at that. You have my word, alright? You know I don't break promises. Unlike someone else," I said, half-jokingly hinting at his actions.

"Ugh. Fine, since you even went as far as to promise me, I'll trust you. Thanks, I owe you one."

"Didn't I tell you I'm doing it because I'm a part of the class? I'm obliged to contribute, so don't mind it."

"Thank you — I mean it," he said and left, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

***

And so I came back to my routine. I once again became an observer. The classes were already over, and we were about to begin preparing for the festival. Physically, I was helping everyone build the set, but mentally, I observed from the side.

I watched. Because ther—

"You should stop that," a voice interrupted the silence. "I can tell you're drowning in self-deprecation and misery just from that look in your eyes. Aren't you tired of that already?"

I faced them, reluctantly.

"...Why are you here? Do you need something from me?" I asked, knowing that I won't get a proper response.

"As always, no reason in particular. I just felt like it." As expected.

"Whatever... You know I'm not merely observing out of stubbornness, petty pride, or anything similar. I do it because I can't do anything else. So, in the end, there is nothing left but to drown in self-criticism and watch, praying to find answers on the way."

"Heh," the person in front of me chuckled with coldness you would never hear from them normally and continued speaking. "You saw what happened with Suzuki Yukino. Don't you want to know why?"

"What do you mean by that?"

 "I'm saying I'm willing to tell you her story."

"...You are better off telling Shosei about it since I won't do anything useful with that information anyway."

"Don't worry, he already knows. I told him everything I knew, so I'm sure he's on the move. You can consider this as repayment for telling me about your past."

They paused, looking over at me. I stayed silent, waiting for the voice to continue. When the person confirmed I was listening, they resumed the conversation.

"This was a story from back when Suzuki Yukino was in middle school —"

***
Maegahara Shosei 

After leaving Itsuki, I headed into the hallway, searching for another person I needed to talk to. There was still plenty of time left in the lunch break, so I would make it in time.

What was the reason we were doing this play? The answer was Nakano Akira. He was the one who proposed the performance in the first place and even went as far as to write an original script. If there was a way to change Suzuki-san's mind, it was by telling her about Nakano-san's circumstances. The problem was — I didn't even know what those circumstances were. But they were all friends, so I was sure Suzuki-san would cooperate if he asked her. 

Nakano Akira was an enigma for me. I couldn't understand his motivations, couldn't see through his mask, and couldn't even begin to guess his true self. Even so, I needed to know his story, or else convincing Suzuki Yukino would be a pipe dream.

I caught him in the hallway, buying the drinks from the vending machine.

"Nakano-san!" I called out to him. In response, he turned around and looked up, still crouching from having to pick up the beverages.

"Oh, Sho-Sho. What's up?" he asked nonchalantly and peeked at me with curious eyes. Almost like he was really nothing but a class clown, unaware of what was happening.

"About me? Hmmm... Oh! It's that, right?" Nakano-san exclaimed and gave me a radiant smile.

"You are interviewing the superstar of the upcoming play, right, Sho-Sho? Just say so to begin with — I'm always ready to talk about myself! I'm an up-and-coming celebrity, after all! Ahahahaha," he said and started heartily laughing. I ignored his usual jokes and spoke in a sober tone.

"You're the one who wanted this play to happen. Isn't that right, Nakano-san?"

Immediately he stopped laughing, but his smile didn't disappear. He pressed the button on the vending machine, making the beverage drop in the pickup window at the bottom. Nakano-san stretched his hand and pulled a can of soda out of the vending machine. 

"Did she tell you everything? Well, it's only fair since you're helping us out," he finally replied.

"...No, she only told me that the script was yours — nothing else. She said you were the only one with the right to talk about the details," I explained, not wanting to cause any misunderstandings.

"I see. Are you simply asking out of curiosity?" Nakano-san asked, his gaze still directed at the can.

"No, I'm asking because I think whatever your reason is, it might help persuade Suzuki-san."

His mouth slightly opened as if he was hesitating to speak. Then, he finally faced me. The smile was gone from his face. Now, Nakano-san wore a resigned expression.

"It won't help... Or rather, I won't cooperate with you on that. I have no plans of forcing Yukino to participate if she doesn't want to. All this is nothing more than my selfish desire — no one else has to suffer because of that. If anything, it's great that her decision diffused the tension — I was planning to give up anyway."

As Nakano-san talked, his face was filled with self-deprecation mixed with relief. His expression seared itself into my mind. I was about to say something, but he stood up and began leaving. I reached out my hand, trying to call out to him, but stopped myself halfway through.

"There really is no way things can get solved so simply — like in some cheap movie. Well, it's my fault that I gave in and listened, so I can't blame anyone but myself," Nakano-san murmured as he walked away. Soon, his figure disappeared from my view. 

It took some time for me to process his words. There was something strange about what he said in the end, but I couldn't figure it out for a while. I mentally rewound his parting words a few times until it hit me.

Huh? Gave in and listened? To whom? That means someone pushed him into this? But, wait, I thought he was the one who started this idea... 

My thoughts were swirling, running through every possibility, but I didn't have enough information to make a good guess, so I shook his suspicious words out of my mind.

I decided to go back to the class to help prepare the set for the play. As soon as I took the first step, a figure emerged from the side. It was Maeda-san. She came from the stairway that flanked the hallway.

"Hey, Maegahara-san, have a minute?" she asked as she raised her hand in greeting.

"...Sure. Is something up?" I was startled by her sudden appearance but managed a normal reply.

"Yeah... I heard your conversation with Akira-kun."

"Eh?" Her words surprised me, making me produce a sound of confusion.

"Sorry — I heard all of it. I was going up the stairs when your voices reached me. Can I talk to you about something?"

"...Sure," I agreed hesitatingly.

"Thanks. It might take some time, so let's go somewhere else," she offered. I nodded, and we headed to a bench in the courtyard. On our way there, Maeda-san stopped by the vending machine to buy herself a bottle of tea.

After a short stroll, we reached the bench and sat down. I waited for Maeda-san to begin, but she stayed silent for an entire minute. Finally, she started speaking.

"You know, Yukino-chan loves singing. She has the talent for it as well. But...there's a reason she never sings nowadays. Singing... took away her friend," Maeda-san said sadly.

"Took away...her friend?" I asked, surprised by the wording.

"That Suzuki-san? I sort of can't believe it...," I murmured in disbelief. It was the exact opposite of how she was now — a brutally honest and blunt person.

"Heh, right? Me, too," Maeda-san laughed a bit and continued her story. "Anyway, she wasn't someone who ever said anything negative about others — even if it was the truth. At the time, a duet singing contest was coming up in their school. She decided to participate. Her partner was her best friend at the time. Her friend wanted to become a singer in the future, and she admired Yukino's talent, so she asked to partner up with her. And..."

Here Maeda-san made a pause, hesitant to continue. Her lips trembled, and she struggled to squeeze out the rest of the tale. I was sure she was imagining what Suzuki-san felt back then. For some time, Maeda-san fidgeted with the plastic bottle in her hands. Finally, She took a deep breath and kept going.

"...As you can imagine, she completely outperformed her friend — to the point where it became a famous story. Soon enough, everyone in their school knew about it. Even though she aspired to become a professional singer, her performance was pathetic compared to Yukino-chan's. The difference was crushing. Not only her dreams crumbled, but she also became the target of everyone's mockery for the rest of the middle school. Yukino-chan's group were popular girls, so they had their fair share of haters. Those people immediately sprang at the first opportunity to belittle her. I heard that that girl gave up her dreams and never talked with Yukino again."

Maeda-san clenched her fists tight.

"It's not her fault she was talented. Yukino-chan didn't deserve to lose her best friend over something so stupid..."

A silence ensued. I stayed quiet for some moments, thinking this through. 

It's true that it wasn't Suzuki-san's fault. There is nothing wrong with being good at something. However, talented people make others miserable through their existence alone. Especially when they're good at something you want to learn. They're living proof of your mediocrity. Even if the girl didn't hate Suzuki-san for that, it was probably hard to be around someone who reminded you of your incompetence.

Suzuki-san probably didn't say anything about the difference in skill to her friend because she didn't want to hurt her. However, she wounded her even more. It was easy enough to judge that as a horrible move from the side, but I wonder what went through Suzuki-san's head back then. Was she afraid to tell her and waited until it was too late? Or maybe she hoped it wouldn't become that big of a deal? Perhaps, she didn't even notice the disparity in talent herself. 

I thought and thought, but obviously, no answers came. What I needed to contemplate was the way to solve this situation.

"Maegahara-kun," Maeda-san interrupted my thoughts. 

"You understand, don't you?" She eyed me probingly. "Please, don't force Yukino-chan to sing. It hurts her."

I didn't reply. Or, more like, I couldn't say anything after hearing that story. Maeda-san continued, seemingly taking my silence as the answer.

"I'm sure if you tell her the reason behind this play, she will agree to help Akira-kun, but... she shouldn't be paying the price. That just wouldn't be right. I refuse to accept that," she declared desperately, her fists clenched tight.

I stayed silent, unable to offer a retort. Maeda-san smiled in relief and got up from the bench.

"Thank you for your understanding, Maegahara-san. I'm sorry we can't make this play a success when you put so much effort behind the scenes. I really am sorry — but I want to keep protecting her."

Something about her last words struck me as wrong, but I couldn't quite put it into words. 

Maeda-san slowly took one step after another. The sound of her footsteps echoed in my ears. There was a weird feeling of urgency welling up in my chest. I didn't know why but I was sure I had to say something. My brain raced, and I felt like my head would explode as the flurry of thoughts stormed it. Maeda-san reached the end of the courtyard, about to disappear from my view—

"I swear I won't force Suzuki-san to sing... But I do have some questions. Will you...will you please answer them for me?"

Maeda-san kept smiling, and I felt a note of satisfaction from her.

"Sure, Maegahara-kun. Although, I'm not sure if I can answer all of them..."

"That's more than enough for me. Thank you, Maeda-san."

My voice was filled with resolution. I wasn't ready to give up yet. There was still a chance to make this play happen, and I wasn't about to abandon it, no matter how slight it was. 

Was that because I wanted to win the bet against Itsuki? Or was it because I didn't want all my efforts with the cultural festival to go to waste?

No, it was way simpler. I wanted to reach out to them.

And finally — a normal high school girl so chained down by her ties that she proudly declared she wanted to protect her friend. As if the connection she relied on was so twisted it rotted her ability to go on without it.

I didn't have any answers, not even close to that. But I still wanted to stretch my hand toward them. I wanted to learn more about them, connect with them, and help them. It was an impulse I couldn't stop. It was nothing but my egotistic desire to get closer to the ones that captivated me, fueled by my stubborn refusal to give in to the compromises of life.

And so, I reached out to them.