IV. a girl whose name is spoken like a sin

A short play:

[A class of about twenty-five becomes a class of twenty once the bell for lunch rings. The five that left will someday be astronauts, presidents, medalist athletes; the rest will fall prey to office jobs like they have to bile fascination. They want to know what really happened yesterday after school. They yearn for gossip.]

[Watanabe Nesaku, nicknamed Saku out of mercy, seventeen on the outside, seventy on the inside. He found the situation amusing, but his friends didn’t. Minutes ago, he typed ‘I’ll tell you guys what happened’ in the class’s group chat, thus creating this situation. There is no thunder today, unfortunately.]

Girl #1: Had you guys ever talked before?

Saku: We—

Girl #2: They had! Tanaka said he saw Watanabe give her his umbrella.

[Shock.]

Guy #1: So how did she confess?

Kenji: [Panicked]. I’ll, uh, I’ll be with Hoshino and Izumi at the usual spot. Bye. [Exits.]

Guy #2: Is it true she went to your place last week?

Saku: W—

Girl #3: Why are you talking to her, anyway? Don’t you know what she did?

Girl #1: Guys don’t care about that stuff.

Girl #3: Watanabe should.

Saku:

Guy #3: Did you reject her?

[Sudden, piercing silence.]

Saku: [Awaits to be rudely interrupted again. When nothing happens, he clears his throat.] So—

Guy #1: Can you introduce me to her?

Guy #2: Did she go to your place or not?

Girl #3: Isn’t Hoshino angry?

Girl #1: Did—

Saku: PENIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSS!

[Sudden, judgmental silence.]

Saku: [Assaulted by morbid curiosity, bile fascination, a guilty conscience, a scholar, God himself, all at once. This often happens on a stage, seldom outside of it. Perhaps it’s due to the school’s overnight hustle to write a play based on lies. It’d be so, so easy to join in. After all, what has a girl whose name is spoken like a sin got to lose at this point? What about the girl whose face lit up after taking the umbrella, then never again? Was she a toy? A tool? A person?] She didn’t confess to me.

[Skeptical silence.]

Saku: It was raining, so I lent her my umbrella, which she lost and apologized for. That’s it.

[If only thunder would boom… or anything, really. Even a fly buzzing by would help.]

Saku: [Shrugs.] I’d never talked to her before.

Saku: Sorry to disappoint.

Girl #1:

Girl #2:

Girl #3:

Guy #1:

Guy #2:

[Curtain falls.]

***

On my way to ‘the usual spot’, I paused, for I heard the following:

“Heyyy, look who it is!”

“Heh, she’s running away. Murase, hello? I’m your biggest fan!”

“I’m your second biggest fan! Come back!”

Even though I didn’t know who the fuck Murase was, I wanted to be their third biggest fan, so I hastened my pace. As I passed the corner leading to the next hallway, a train ran me over, and I teleported to a different—

“Ow!”

—floor tile. The girl who tackled me didn’t fall, unlike me. To add insult to injury (literally) a couple girls broke out laughing not too far away; I presumed them to be Murase’s fans #1 and #2. “Sorry,” I said, like I’d been the one to roleplay as a vehicle in the middle of a school hallway.

“N-no, I’m the one who… oh, Watanabe-kun.”

She held out a hand to me, which I took. I guessed I should’ve recognized the drama club president by her voice the moment she spoke. Then again, I hadn’t even known her name until now, so. “Prez,” I greeted, standing up. As if she wasn’t the tallest girl in school already—taller than me—the thing above her head that theoretically resembled a ponytail puffed above her like a halo. Her fringe was always a bit too long, glasses too big, as if to compensate.

One of the fans came to watch the spectacle up close. Had I seen her before? Maybe. She wore no glasses and her fringe was okay. “Are you okay?” She asked. I assumed she spoke to Murase so I didn’t reply, but then she added, “Hey, are you still in contact with Joaquin?”

Who the f—oh, John. Well, no wonder they talked to me. “Yeah,” I said, since he hadn’t blocked me. “Just, you know. Not as much.”

“Could you tell him to follow me back?”

“Sure thing.” Murase the club prez stood beside me as though I could do anything against her fans. Weird. Barely anyone talked to her at the theater. She apologized more than she said ‘I’… which meant they probably said this ironically. Maybe? Was I being cynical? Whatever. “So, prez. I’m glad I found you. I’ve been looking for you forever.”

“Oh?” Murase moved to one side when I tried to look at her, then the other. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Fan #1 whispered to fan #2, who bit back a laugh. Yeah, they’d definitely meant it ironically. “Is it really that important?” Asked Girl #2. “We’ve also been looking for Murase forever.”

“Yeah,” said fan #1. “She refuses to give me her autograph.”

“Go away,” said Murase, which made them giggle.

I sighed through the nose. How to get rid of these two? Maybe by boring them enough. I’d just take them to ‘the usual spot’ as well and hope the prez would take the hint and not actually think I needed her for anything. Since Kenji would be too scared to talk and Izumi too pissed off, it shouldn’t take long for them fuck off. Hopefully. “So—”

Fan #1 jumped away, startled, as a mass of yellow whizzed past us, seizing both Murase and I’s wrists. First trains, now express kidnapping. We didn’t stop running until I collapsed, whereupon Hanamura said, “Sorry,” then, “Are you hurt?”

“Fuck,” I hissed, but I didn’t want to admit that running for longer than thirty seconds felt like a marathon, so I just shook my head. 

We’d reached a hallway leading to a dead end, a stack of old desks and chairs, and a poster saying WANT TO IMPRESS THE GIRL OF YOUR DREAMS? IT’S TIME TO GET IN SHAPE! THE BOXING CLUB IS WAITING FOR YOU! Oh, piss off.

“What’s going on now?” Asked Murase, helping me up (for she knew).

Hanamura looked at me, then at her, then back at me. “I thought you guys were getting bullied,” she mumbled, wherein she toyed with her hair. “Was I, um. Yes? No?”

I shot her a look. “Didn’t you say you weren’t stalking me?”

“I was just, uh, passing by.”

“Oh, please.”

“Seriously!”

“Thank you,” said Murase.

“You’re welc—I mean, it’s nothing.”

Was it getting rammed to the floor like a bowling pin by Murase? Doing the ninja run against my will due to Hanamura? That stupid sign? Myself? Whatever it was, I wanted it away from me. I hated getting angry. Hated it. “Great,” I said. “While you guys get to know each other, I’ll take my leave. Goodbye.”

“Wait!” That was Murase. “Did you say you needed me for—”

“I lied. Goodbye.”

“Wait!” That was Hanamura. “I wanted to talk to you about—”

“No. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” replied Murase.

Hanamura followed me. To call it stalking would’ve been insulting to people who put effort into it. By the time I got to the stairs leading to the rooftop—the usual place—I’d long since cooled off, because the only thing I hated more than getting pissed off was staying that way. It’s not like it was my fault I was physically weak or whatever. Or theirs. Still. “I said no,” I told her, halfway up the stairs.

“I’m not talking,” was Hanamura’s reply.

“…listen—”

“Was. I’m talking now, but that’s because you started it, so.”

To follow along with this nonsense would be pointless, so I told her, “Fine. I take it back. What did you want to talk about?”

She toyed with the hem of her shirt again. I forgot most people didn’t wear the vests during summer. I just felt naked without mine.

It was dusty. And damp. And hot. The rooftop wasn’t.

I held back a sneeze. “…Hana—”

“Do you like reading?”

“Uh. I guess."

She took out a book from the torn, washed-out fabric I presumed to be her backpack. “Here,” she said, handing it out to me. “It’s about a girl who turns into a goblin and dies at the end.”

Did she just spo—

She did. Whatever. "Thanks," I said, taking it anyway. 

“Can I keep stalking you?”

“I mean, at least you accept it.”

“Yes or no?”

This girl was nuts. The fall had maddened her. Or maybe loneliness had. “As you wish," I replied. "I'll keep calling you stalker-chan if you do, though."

"That's fine."

The worst part of all of this was how she really didn't seem to mind. She hadn't gotten mad last time I'd said it, either. To stop thinking about this, I shifted topics to that. "So when do you want me to give this back?"

"You mean the book?"

"Yes."

"Once you finish reading and I give you the umbrella."

"...you're seriously hung up on that, aren't you?"

Hanamura nodded, then shook her head. "Wait, no, it's not like that. I mean... kind of. Maybe? Even if I was, it's because it might not be important to you, but it could be to someone else. I mean the person it was dedicated to."

"Doubtful," I replied.

"Why? Have you asked?"

I shrugged, looking away.

"Exactly," she said.

Not exactly, no. I didn't think she got it. However, that was a good thing. "I..." didn't want to think anymore. Usually people talked as though words didn't matter. Time to shift topics again. "...I'd tell you to come and eat with us at the rooftop, but, you know."

"Oh, yeah, Yuki's there."

I assumed she meant Hoshi... kawa. Something like that. The one who warned me not to talk to this girl unless I wanted to get used. 

"That's fine," said Hanamura.

She could be right. Both of them. 

Still, the thought of Hanamura following me due to loneliness-induced madness not only came to mind, but took over it. I tucked the book she'd lent out of nowhere into my backpack. It was still damp, still dusty, still hot. With a sigh, I sat upon the stairs. Hanamura blinked, confused, so I tapped the spot next to me.

“But your friends are above," she said.

“I just love eating in unhygienic places, you know?"

“Huh? Why?”

Oh dear. “Just sit down.”

She did. “But, um. What if one of them sees you talking to me?"

I shrugged, taking the cap off a food container. “Did you bring anything to eat?” I asked. “I usually cook for all of them, so I have a lot of stuff. I'm sure they'll live without it for a day."

Hanamura stared at the food. Stared and stared and stared.

“It's not poisoned," I said.

“It's not that. I was just thinking that I didn't bring extra chopsticks or anything, because I usually get melon bread from the cafeteria, which doesn't need chopsticks, because it's melon. Bread." She must've caught the redundancy of this statement, because she scratched the side of her face to hide it.

How smooth. "I guess that leaves me no choice, then. Here. Say 'ahh'."

"Oh. Thank you." She did. 

...I did not expect that response. I guess I must've spaced out for longer than intended, because once she closed her mouth, Hanamura grinned at me. Smirked? She used her fingers to pick an egg roll.

“Wait, no—”

She chomped it.

“No. No. Don’t do that again. It pisses me off. You have no idea. I could kill something right now."

"Ish guf!" She swallowed. "It's better than the ones at the cafeteria."

"That's not a hard bar to reach."

"Do you like cleaning?"

"No."

Hanamura took out a package containing melon bread from her backpack. Upon opening it, she offered some to me, but I shook my head. At this point, I, too, wanted to hide my face, albeit for different reasons. Reacting that way to anyone acting vaguely unhygienic never got less embarrassing. 

"...hey. So. Can I get another one?"

"Sure. I guess."

"I'll use pencils."

"What the—no."

She snorted. "You do sound like you like cleaning."

First she stumbled over her words, then she teased me. I supposed I'd given her an opening with my earlier overreaction. Was she a flower? Kudzu? A mimosa? I couldn't tell yet. To probe, I took an egg roll with my chopsticks before waving it at her direction. Hanamura stared and stared and stared, and then she chomped on it. "There," I said.

Her mouth didn't say 'ish guf' this time, but her face sure did. "Do you like cooking more than you like cleaning?" She asked, upon swallowing.

"I said I..." Whatever. "Cooking."

"You're very good at it."

"I know."

"Wow, you're so humble."

I smiled, worth noting because I did so without thinking. 

Hanamura offered melon bread again, and I again declined, wherein she unsubtly eyed the egg rolls again. Oh, well. I wasn't sure if sharing chopsticks was any less dirty, but it'd do. At least it wasn't sharing straws or something similarly horrid.

A few minutes before lunch break ended, Hanamura stood up. her excuse was: "It's so your friends won't see me," even though I'd already implied that I didn't give a shit. Maybe she saw through me. She seemed to like doing that. "So. Um. Goodbye?"

"See you later, probably. Just stop skipping class."

She frowned. "I don't do that stuff, though. Yesterday was the exception."

"Oh really."

"Yes really. Also, I don't usually eat with my fingers."

"Good to know."

"...you're doing that again."

"Doing what?"

"That."

This was giving me a headache, so I stood up, too. Neither she nor I walked away. It was as easy and as hard as telling her to sit with us next time. Surely enough, they couldn't hate her forever, right? "...Hana—"

"Th—oh, sorry."

"It's fine. Go on."

"No, no, you started, so you go on first."

"It's nothing," I lied.

Because Hanamura seemed to like to see through people, I expected her to tell me to spit it out anyway, but she didn't. "Okay." That's what she said instead. "What I wanted to say was just, that, um. Thank you."

Most words were meaningless to me. They were assassins at best, for time and for silence. Life was easier that way. However, this made it empty.

I was okay with empty. More than okay. "Again, it's nothing."

Hanamura replied: "Maybe not to you."

"Maybe," I lied.

It was a see you later and not a goodbye. With a half-empty bento box in hand and less than five minutes to stand my friends complaining about this, I headed to the rooftop. There, it was Izumi to stand up first; he sat with his girlfriend and Kenji at the usual spot. "Finally!"

"I got mugged," I told them as I approached. "Someone from the sumo club stole the food."

"Oh, cut it out. I thought something bad had happened."

"He doesn't look hurt," noted Kenji. "Told you."

I wasn't—just shocked. I guessed I shouldn't have been, but still...

"I'm fine," I said, then sat down. "I'm fine."