I spent my days on high alert, personally wary of the Blonde Young Lady to ensure no harm came to Natsukawa. There had been no contact from Chromarty since that incident. Looking into the rumors about "East and West" again, it seemed an awkward atmosphere still lingered throughout the school. For now, it felt like rumors of bad blood were slowly spreading through the various clubs. Of course, members of the Going-home Club like Natsukawa and me had no way of knowing the specifics. Ashida also mentioned that there weren't any students from the West in the Volleyball Club. Apparently, the Tea Ceremony Club, which Saito-san belonged to, had some contact with them, but they didn't really talk much.
Information was a weapon, and while I was worried about Natsukawa being targeted, I wanted to avoid trouble myself. You never knew when or what that girl might pull, so I figured I should keep my feelers out as much as possible from here on. Wait, don't I sound like a pretty capable guy right now?
Hyah-hah-hah.
"...Haa."
The rain was coming down hard—a real summer baptism. June usually carried the image of the rainy season, but for years now, it felt like the downpours just kept right on going through July and August. Even with an umbrella, my feet were soaking wet. The sheer discomfort radiating from my soggy socks while I was stuck at school sent my frustration levels through the roof.
As I walked along the school route, I hummed along to the rhythm of the rain as if it were the backing track to some trendy pop song. The drumming of droplets against my umbrella drowned me out. The irritation brought by the humidity was softened by the space I'd transformed into my own personal karaoke booth—wait, wasn't that a bit poetic just now? Go me, Wata-o.
While I was occupied with the most trivial thoughts in Japan, I noticed the sound of a large truck approaching from behind. I needed to move—well, I was already on the sidewalk, so there wasn't really a reason to worry... wait, hang on?
"Wait a se—"
◆
"A fine man, dripping with water..."
"His face looks pretty dead, though..."
My mood was like a magic forkball—it had dropped so low it was heading straight for the catcher's crotch. That was quite the power word. If that actually happened, my baseball career—or rather, my life as a man—would probably be over.
"I have no luck..."
I had been assaulted by the sheer violence of water.
Ashida's sympathetic face was a mental attack equivalent to a serious spike. I never expected to be handed handkerchiefs and towels from all directions. I was grateful, really, but... Yamazaki, just how old was this crumpled towel you pulled from the bottom of your bag?
On top of everything else, I could only wipe away the splashed mud and sand; I couldn't actually wash it off. It was that specific brand of discomfort, like when you’ve scrubbed a dish with plenty of soap but it’s still slimy.
"I'm surprised you actually had a gym uniform kept here even though it's summer... and unopened, too."
"I don't have to wear it every day... back in early spring, one set was enough."
"Wait, the tag is still on it."
"3,980 yen... I guess that’s what I’m worth."
"Hey..."
"I get it. I totally get the negative spiral when your mood is at rock bottom."
"Ngh-fuh..."
"That made a pretty dull thud..."
My forehead hit the desk. It hurt, but at the same time, it didn't. I was overwhelmed by a sense of just wanting everything to be over. Sometimes this happened even when it wasn't raining. If there was one silver lining, it was that Natsukawa was being a little kinder to me than usual. Afuu.
"You can only say it was bad luck."
"Why do trucks pass by only on rainy days...?"
"They're coming specifically to splash puddles on you, aren't they...?"
Was it even legal for a truck like that to pass so close to a residential area? I'd understand if it were a moving company, but that was clearly a logistics truck... Who the hell is the commoner ordering supplies in industrial units...?
"..."
"Wait, uh, Wataru!? Don't fall asleep yet! At least take the tag off—"
"Wait, did he fall asleep? He's out? You're kidding."
"He falls asleep faster than Airi..."
No, I wasn't asleep yet... but whatever, I’d just stay like this. It was easier to lie face down. I didn't want to move and feel my wet underwear sticking to my skin.
I hadn't even made it to first period, so why was I this exhausted? Was it psychological? Maybe I should watch some dog or cat videos to heal my soul... no, I hated watching videos when I wasn't on Wi-Fi. Mom would kill me over the data usage.
Ah... I had zero motivation left. I wondered if there was a motivation switch somewhere on my body... Actually, it didn't matter. For now, I'd at least wait for my clothes to dry a little...
◆
There was a cup.
In a pure white space sat a single transparent cup. I was simply looking down at it.
A faucet appeared. It was a stylish thing, the kind you’d see in a brand-new designer home.
The handle rose. Water poured into the cup as if to say, It’s delicious.
The faucet stopped. The cup was filled with just the right amount of water to drink. I reached out to take it, but my hand didn't appear in my field of vision. Though I was stunned, the cup seemed satisfied somehow.
Steam rose from the cup. I tried to touch it with my invisible hand, but it wasn't hot. When I held my palm over it, I could feel the moisture. Was it... evaporating?
Before I knew it, the stylish faucet was gone.
The water in the cup began to vanish as if the world were being played back at double speed. Every time the level dropped, I could feel the cup desperately crying out, Wait, don't go.
The water decreased slowly but surely until it finally hit the bottom, leaving the cup empty. The cup seemed consumed by a sense of tragedy. Why? How could this happen? it seemed to wail in grief. Watching it made my own chest ache for some reason.
This continued for a while. The cup remained empty. Time seemed to pass strangely fast here. As the parched cup grew increasingly dry, I could do nothing but watch. The cup seemed to accept its desiccated state, staring downward in silence.
Then, I heard the sound of water.
I gasped. The cup was equally startled. I hurriedly looked around for a source. A faucet had appeared above the cup. It was different from the first—a rusted, neglected thing like you'd find in a desolate park. However, the cup rejoiced at the sight of it.
That joy was short-lived. Water gushed from the faucet with incredible, violent force. The cup was momentarily glad to be moistened, but it quickly began to panic as the volume exceeded its capacity. I could tell it was pleading desperately, That's enough! Don't pour any more! But the water overflowed mercilessly.
The faucet, as if unsatisfied, continued to hammer the cup with water, as if demanding, Take more! Take even more! I didn't know what was driving him that far. The cup began to feel nothing but resentment toward that faucet.
Eventually, the force of the water weakened slightly. Looking closer, I saw that water was leaking from a gap at the base of the spout. Perhaps because it was so rusted, it couldn't withstand the pressure of its own intensity.
I looked back at the cup. While the water continued to overflow, the cup had turned away in a huffy, annoyed manner. It probably didn't even have the emotional capacity to look up at the faucet above its head anymore.
How much time passed? The sound of the water changed. The moment I looked up to see what was happening, the spout of the faucet blew clean off.
It shattered, sending parts and water splattering everywhere. I instinctively reached out to help, but my hand still failed to appear. It was as if I didn't exist in this world at all.
Even the cup noticed. The change in the water's pressure must have been obvious; it looked up and was visibly shocked by the state of the faucet. Are you okay? the cup asked, but its voice never reached the source above.
While the faucet was broken, the cup began to regain its composure. The water stopped overflowing, and it seemed to find the leeway to care about things other than its own survival. The cup rejoiced at having finally returned to its peak condition, leaving the broken faucet to its fate.
The water stopped completely.
The faucet’s shape had become horribly distorted, and it seemed to have dammed itself up. I could no longer feel the passion it had held when it was violently gushing. It was just an object now—a mindless, broken faucet.
Meanwhile, the cup was in such a good mood it was practically humming. Even though it wasn't doing anything in particular, it continued to smile as the surface of its water swayed pleasantly.
I wondered if it was really okay to be so carefree. Was this really a situation to be laughing in? As if answering my doubt, the same evaporation as before began. The cup hadn't noticed yet.
The water level dropped. The cup finally noticed when it was less than half full. It panicked, but the vanishing water couldn't be stopped. Unlike the stylish faucet from the beginning, the broken faucet remained there, refusing to disappear.
The cup must have been unable to forget the sensation of being full; unlike the first time, it couldn't forgive itself for drying up. Stop, don't go! I need water! Without water, I’ll—
The water was gone.
The cup cried. I couldn't see tears or a sad expression, and the space was utterly silent, yet I could hear the cup's wailing. Once again, my chest throbbed with pain. The fate of the cup—unable to do anything with its own hands whether it was being filled or drained—seemed so cruel.
The cup wouldn't stop crying. Even though the water was gone and it was parched to the core, it kept searching.
Why? Why do you still seek it? Wasn't it the same last time? Shouldn't you just accept your fate? Isn't that just how reality works?
I only thought it. I certainly didn't say it out loud—or so I believed. But as if my message had been received, the cup turned toward me.
The cup looked at me in shock, then quietly closed its consciousness.
—Before long, the cup withered.