The Idealist decides to reach out to them.

***
Furukawa Itsuki

What I heard next was the story of Suzuki Yukino. She broke her friend's dream with nothing more than sheer talent. The past froze her voice and stole her ability to sing. Or, you could say, her inability to speak the truth was why she lost her precious friend.

The voice finished its tale, and Its owner smiled sadly. I had to wonder what sort of reaction they expected from me. Was there a reason behind revealing that much to me? The only thing I could offer was superficial sympathy and worthless remarks.

"I see... All of you have been through a lot, huh? You guys are practically a minefield. Everyone has some trauma, preventing them from moving to the future," I concluded my impressions.

"Everyone? I'm pretty sure you've only heard about Yukino."

It was true. I didn't know anyone else's past directly. But, once I watched over the group for a while, many things became clear.

"It's easy to see — all of you are hopelessly twisted. I already figured out the reason behind the play — if anything, that was the easiest and the most obvious part. All of you reacted unnaturally to this situation — it's clear that something is haunting you."

All of them were unnatural. I knew there was something wrong with every single one of those five. Did they really fit Shosei's image of perfect youth? Was that really what he wanted? They weren't the ideal group of his dreams — merely a bunch of twisted people licking each other's wounds and trying to forget their past.

"Heh. You do notice a lot. But isn't it because you're the same? No, actually, you're the worst case out of all. I suppose we're lucky that Maegahara is not as broken as us."

Wasn't as broken as us, huh?

"I'm not sure about that. There isn't anyone as obsessed with projecting ideals on the real world as Shosei is. Even if he proves himself wrong, he will stubbornly keep repeating the same mistakes in hopes of reaching a different outcome. It doesn't matter how much he gets burnt — he never learns," I said, criticizing my friend. Or perhaps, expressing my admiration.

"Why would he do that? Does he think the result will change? "

"It's obvious, is it not? He only wants to prove that his ideals can eventually come true, no matter the time and effort it takes. That means only one success is enough for him. Only one victory after an endless string of failures and disappointments is enough to prove his point," I explained. Then, my lips twisted in a sarcastic smirk, and I added. "At least that's what he feels."

"You disagree?"

"Do I? I don't even know at this point. What I think doesn't matter. More importantly, what is he doing? You've told him everything and even more, so what is his answer? Although, I can already guess it..."

"He's on his way to melt the ice, chaining down Yukino's voice. Or on his way to freezing it forever."

"I see."

A silence followed my curt reply. It didn't last long, however, as the voice resumed speaking.

"By the way."

"?"

"We might have gotten burnt in the past, but we're still trying to do our best. We're twisted — but we're by no means hopeless. We're not just licking each other's wounds or trying to forget. We're searching for ways to move forward, to find our new paths — even if we're compromising. And the same applies to you as well," they said, challenging my unvoiced thoughts as if they could read my mind.

"...Me? I'm twisted but not wounded. I was fine being where I was," I lied naturally. And then, I added. "Oh, and also—"

There was something she said that I had to comment on.

"He hates compromises, you know?"

Although, I was sure life loved compromises.

***
Maegahara Shosei

School wasn't over yet, but I left early. Otherwise, there was no way I would make it to where I wanted in time.

I was approaching our school gate. My destination was a school in the neighboring district. First, I would take the train to the closest station from it, and then I would make it on foot.

I got all the answers I needed — the only thing left was to commit to my hopeful guess and pray for success. That was the best I could do. I closed in on the school gates, and my thoughts returned to the conversation I'd just had with Maeda-san.

She coincidentally overheard Nakano-san and me talking. Was it a coincidence? Or maybe a calculated plan designed to make me move? I was probably overthinking things, but something about the entire affair with the cultural festival struck me as suspicious. Nakano-san let it slip that someone convinced him to commit to the play. I didn't know if they just pushed him to submit the script or if they were the reason Nakano-san wrote it in the first place. Either way, he didn't decide to do it on his own. That made me think this whole festival was meant to go this way from the get-go.

If the malice didn't start, would Suzuki-san sing for us? I wasn't sure. Maybe she would be unable to do it regardless, or — quite possibly — she would endure it for her group's sake without addressing her past. 

Why did Suzuki-san agree in the first place? She had a trauma related to singing and usually refused to sing whatsoever. Her agreeing to the role led me to believe that Suzuki Yukino had at least a hunch about the importance of this play to her friends. Maybe she even knew the actual reasons behind the performance, unlike me. She forced herself to participate because of her friends. But now, things were different. There was no point if those same friends had to experience malice in exchange for that. 

At this point, if Nakano-san himself didn't ask her to help, I doubt she would agree. No, honestly, I wasn't sure she would agree anyway. Still, if I wanted a chance at success, I needed to convince Nakano Akira that it was for Suzuki-san's sake — an opportunity for her to overcome her past and move on. He didn't want to force Suzuki-san, so that was the only way he would cooperate.

As I went over everything I needed to do in my head, I passed through the gates. Someone unexpected was waiting for me on the other side, leaning his back on the wall. As usual, he wore a smile on his face. It was Ishikawa Yamada, the nearly perfect superhuman.

"Hey, Maegahara-san," he casually raised his hand in greeting. That usual impeccable smile had a tinge of fatigue on it — as if it'd lost its glimmer. Weirdly enough, I preferred it that way.

"What's up, Ishikawa-san? Did you want to talk to me about something?"

"Not really. I just happened to be here and saw you coming through the gate. Where are you going?" Ishikawa-san asked naturally. He was undoubtedly lying, but I decided not to point it out.

"I'm just busy with something right now. Sorry, I can't help much with the festival today," I also lied and began walking away.

"No worries, we all have our personal lives and stuff. Besides, you should be apologizing to Akira, not me. My motto was always to do what you want, so I don't have any right to criticize you."

"Yeah, sorry again. Good luck with the preparations. There is still much to be done, but I'm sure you will deal with that, right?" I asked. His mention of Akira's name specifically caught my interest, but I ignored that and went on to probe him. A silent question was hidden in my words, asking him if he planned to stay on the sidelines.

"Don't worry, that surely won't be a problem soon. Although, I'm not sure I even need to do anything."

"?" I was puzzled at his statement but decided to ignore it. I was already tired of looking deeper into others' words, searching for hidden meanings. They all loved to speak in cryptid ways, didn't they? Itsuki included. I thought this conversation to be over and began walking away when Ishikawa-san called out to me.

"By the way, are you sure you want to do this?"

I almost replied immediately but thought for a while before voicing my thoughts. I looked at the sky. There — boorish clouds masked the beautiful azure expanse behind their grey masses. Something about that annoyed me immensely. 

Soon, an answer came to my lips.

"I can't be sure of anything, so maybe my opinion will change with time," I began. 

Was I making a mistake? Was it correct to interfere in other people's lives based on nothing but my ideals? Was it arrogant to think I could make a difference when I only recently came to know them? Ignoring all those questions, I sought out my answer. Regardless of the doubts I had, this was something I wanted to do anyway. So I won't hesitate. No more.

"If I interfere and it goes wrong, I will regret it. But I will also regret not doing anything. If the result would be the same either way, isn't it better to try?"

It was a stupid reason, completely disregarding any intricacy, purposefully built to be shallow and thoughtless. It didn't account for the extent of the regret I would experience or the effort spent in the process. It also didn't feel like a proper answer since I arrived at that conclusion through the process of elimination. I was sure he would completely dismantle it — to the point where nothing was left.

But I wasn't him. I couldn't think it through as thoroughly as he did. And if I tried to, I would only start running in circles, trapping myself in a never-ending cycle of doubt and hesitation. That's why I will push on. It was how I always did things.

"I'm an idiot who only learns things from failing — hell, scratch that. I rarely even learn from failures, so my only option from the start was to go for it."

"I see. Even though I was talking about something else, that also counts."

His last words were so quiet I couldn't make them out. I walked away, passing through the gates. When I made it a significant distance from school, I let a muffled complaint leave my mouth.

"Damn... Weren't you supposed to be the oblivious one?"

As my words faded in the air, I wondered how many wounds those five held within their hearts.

***

An hour later, I was already near my destination. It was your average local school, not particularly prestigious nor painfully shabby. I entered the building and asked where the second-year classrooms were. Luckily, it was break time, so the students weren't studying at the moment. After getting some directions, I went to the second-year students' floor and entered the first classroom I came across. I made the first step into the room and asked the first student I saw.

"Excuse me, is Takagi Aiko here?"

The boy standing the closest to the entrance perked up in response to my question. He frowned in thought. Then, he shook his head and answered.

"We don't have anyone named Aiko in this class."

"Ah, is that so?" I said, scratching my head. "You see, I don't actually know what class she's in. Only that she's in this school."

"I see... Sorry for bothering you," I apologized, feeling slightly guilty.

"No problems, man. Good luck with your search. Takagi Aiko, huh?" he murmured and looked up at the ceiling, probably checking through his memory. Luckily, the girl nearby reacted to his mutter. She wasn't in the group of people I addressed originally and was absorbed in her smartphone just a moment ago, so she hadn't heard my initial question.

"Oh, Aiko-chan? She's in class 2-C. You could at least know that much. She's the music club's best singer, you know? You always hear her perform at every event...," the girl said, staring at the boy in exasperation. He retorted, flustered.

"Sh-shut up. I don't pay attention to those announcements. I mean, who does?"

"I do. Maybe you're just too stupid and can't remember anything beyond the last three seconds? Like a goldfish."

"Idiot, that was proven to be a myth."

They didn't stop at that and began to banter. Not wanting to interrupt what seemed like the usual for the two, I thanked the girl and headed to class 2-C. According to what I'd just heard, Takagi Aiko still sang — she hadn't given up on her dream just yet. That gave me hope.

I walked through the hallway, mentally preparing myself to meet Takagi Aiko. She was Suzuki-san's former best friend and the only person who could melt the ice chaining her down. What did I need to tell her? How could I convince her to go with me? Was there any way for my words to reach her? Especially since I wasn't Suzuki-san's real friend. Did I even have a right to interfere?

No, stop hesitating. You already made your decision, so there was no choice but to commit to it. I had to make my words reach Takagi Aiko. Would immediately mentioning Suzuki-san be a bad idea? Did she hate Suzuki Yukino? Did she regret being friends with her in the past? Or did she regret cutting off their bond instead? Think. You already heard what kind of person Takagi-san was. What sort of conclusion would she reach in that situation? If I was her, what would I feel? 

Think. Think. Th—

My thoughts were interrupted by a figure that appeared in my sight. A girl was walking through the hallway toward me. The reason she caught my attention was simple — I recognized her face. It was Takagi Aiko. I saw her old photos from middle school, so I knew how she looked. She'd grown older and changed her hairstyle from long straight hair to a bob cut, but it was still unmistakably her.

"Ehm, excuse me!" I called out to her as she passed right near me.

"Mhm? Yes?" she asked as she turned around.

"Are you... are you Takagi Aiko-san?"

"Y-yes, have we met before?" Takagi-san asked, puzzled that I knew her name.

"No, but I want to talk with you. Do you have a minute?"

"S-sure, I guess."

I took a deep breath before continuing, confirming I was confident in my guess. And then, I made a gamble. There was no going back after what I was about to say. Still, I didn't stop myself.

"Do you want to meet Suzuki Yukino? If you do, then listen to what I have to say."

Her reaction was immediate. Her mouth slightly opened, and her eyes turned sharp.

"...I'm listening."

It seemed my gambit paid off.