"Natsukawa-san, Sasaki-kun. I was wondering if you two would mind acting as guides for the middle schoolers during their trial enrollment?"
"Huh...?"
It happened just after summer vacation began. While the Cultural Festival Executive Committee was in the middle of its activities, our homeroom teacher, Ms. Ohtsuki, came by the North Building to find us. She bowed her head as she made the request. Caught off guard by the unfamiliar terminology, I couldn't help but ask for clarification.
"August 6th. That’s a school report day, but only for our third-year students. We’ll have middle schoolers from several different schools visiting for tours that day. I’d like the two of you to show them around."
"Heh, I didn't know we did things like that. But why me and Natsukawa? We’ve only been students here for four months..."
I nodded at Sasaki-kun’s reasonable point. If the job was to guide prospective students, a third-year senior who knew the school inside and out seemed far more appropriate. I found myself wondering the same thing: why us, when we barely knew our way around yet?
"Well, about that. I shouldn't say this too loudly... but every year, the school asks students with the best looks to act as guides, essentially using them as advertisements. When the staff showed various first-year ID photos during the faculty meeting, you two were the ones everyone agreed on."
"O-Our looks?"
I couldn't hide my surprise at a selection process you wouldn't expect from a normal school. While it was difficult to comment on my own appearance, I felt a small spark of joy at being called "good-looking." On the other hand, the thought of the faculty sitting around a table discussing my face felt strangely unsettling.
"The fact that you're already coming to school frequently for the Cultural Festival Executive Committee helped the decision, too. I know you're busy, but please! Help me out here!"
She pressed her hands together in a plea. Sasaki-kun and I reflexively traded glances. Setting the selection criteria aside, the prospect of guiding the kids who might become our juniors next year felt like something to be proud of. At the same time, I could already see myself getting so nervous that I wouldn't be able to speak properly.
"Natsukawa, why don't we do it? Maybe some of next year’s freshmen will remember us."
"Eh? Oh... okay."
Sasaki-kun seemed to be leaning toward a yes. Perhaps because I didn't have time to think it over, I simply went with the flow and agreed. A second later, I regretted being so impulsive. And yet, a part of me still felt genuinely positive about the idea.
"Really?! Thank you, both of you! I'll let Matsumoto-sensei know—he’s the one in charge of the program!"
"Right! Please let us know the details once they’re settled!"
"You can count on me!"
"Um..."
The conversation moved forward with dizzying speed, and Ms. Ohtsuki hurried off. Just like that, I had been tasked with being a guide for the middle schoolers' trial enrollment. I offered a wry smile, but since I’d be at the school twice a week anyway, I decided to put it out of my mind for now so I wouldn't get too anxious.
"The cultural festival, trial enrollment, and my club activities—everything feels so fulfilling lately."
"Yeah... you're right."
As we worked on our committee tasks, Sasaki-kun made a point of chatting with me. Even though we were technically close enough that I had invited him to my house once, we weren't originally the type to talk all that much. Perhaps because of that, he seemed to be making an extra effort to be considerate.
I returned to the committee room, offering vague affirmations. I felt bad for Sasaki-kun, but lately, my mood just hadn't been there. I didn't let it affect my work, but I felt guilty that I couldn't seem to find anything to contribute to the conversation.
"—This year's cultural festival slogan will be 'Brand New World: Toward a New Era.' With that in mind, I want us to focus on what kind of new initiatives we can implement."
I suspect most of the committee members were only there because they’d lost a game of rock-paper-scissors, but perhaps because this was a college-prep school, the discussions remained surprisingly serious. Since last year's theme had been "tradition," it seemed this year’s focus would be on innovation.
"Those of you who attended the festival as middle schoolers last year probably know this, but it’s a massive undertaking. We have many volunteers and supporters to answer to, and to be honest, this has the potential to become a city-wide event. We need to tackle this with everything we’ve got."
Whether it was the student-led culture of the school or just their own natural drive, the Executive Committee President, Hasegawa-senpai, was incredibly capable. They were proactive in leading us first-years, and I could feel their intense passion for making the festival a success.
"During summer vacation, our priority is to finalize the budget. This year’s scale will be determined by how much support we receive from the city, alumni, and local residents. Our immediate goal is to confirm the number of volunteers. We should be able to estimate that using last year's records."
"In that case, the third-years should focus on recruiting new blood. We'll need to coordinate with the city hall and community centers to post recruitment ads."
"But the current volunteer pool is already quite large. I think it would be more efficient to reach out to last year's list first and confirm who is returning."
"Let's split the third-years into two groups, then. One half will work with the second-years to contact the existing volunteers. We'll have the first-years compile this year's roster and the provisional budget."
The exchange of ideas moved at a breakneck pace, centered mostly around the third-years, while our roles as first-years were decided for us. The sheer speed of the discussion left all the freshmen, myself included, doing little more than tilting our heads in confusion. Still, the seniors were all so reliable that I figured everything would work out in the end.
The first meeting had established the slogan; the second, the general outline; and this time, our specific duties were set. So far, I had spent most of my time here just sitting in a chair. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety—was this really all I was supposed to be doing?
Lost in thought, my day finally came to an end.
"Um, hey... Natsukawa. You want to come watch the Soccer Club practice? Might be a good change of pace."
"Huh?"
"Well, you just seemed a bit... out of it."
It seemed I had made Sasaki-kun worry about me again. A change of pace sounded nice, but I’d feel terrible if I ended up being a distraction to the team. Besides, it wasn't as if I was completely free.
"Thanks for the offer. But I have to get home and take care of Airi..."
"O-Oh, I see. Well, that can't be helped. Sorry for springing it on you like that."
"No, don't worry about it."
Between his athleticism and his thoughtfulness, Sasaki-kun really was impressive. I could see why the girls in class were always making a fuss about how cool and handsome he was. Thinking about how he’d gone out of his way to invite me, I felt another pang of guilt.
It was past 3:00 PM, and since most students had headed straight to their clubs, the entrance was empty. As the distant shouts of the athletes reached my ears, I felt a strange sense of isolation. Why am I going home so much earlier than everyone else? I felt like I wasn't... normal.
"...?"
I was taken aback by my own negativity. It was as if I was rejecting my own life—a life where my beloved sister was waiting for me at home.
"...I can't think like that."
Looking after Airi was my normal, everyday life. While the committee work was rewarding, I would be at a loss for words if someone asked if I was actually having fun. Over the past ten or so days, a certain unforgivable emotion had taken root inside me. I felt like admitting to it would be a betrayal of Airi.
"..."
This restless haze... I felt like I’d been here before. An indescribable sense of déjà vu. That self-loathing sensation where I suddenly couldn’t forgive myself, feeling like I had to suppress it, to keep myself in check. What was this?
Until now... Wataru had always been there. Last year, the year before—Wataru was always there. Every time he showed up, I’d be exasperated, thinking, "Not again." Yet I’d be swept up by his sheer momentum, and before I knew it, he’d have carried my groceries halfway home for me. When I got back, my mother and Airi would be waiting, and my father would return with souvenirs...
Ah, that’s why I was never bored. Back then, there was never a moment where I wasn't seeing someone outside of my family. Whenever I had a free moment, Wataru or one of my classmates would drag me out to do something. My life had been full.
If that was the case—then what was this frustration? Why did these tangled, messy emotions feel so much like... nostalgia?