Around the time Silver Week drew to a close, I found myself alone on a train bound for my hometown.
My father’s condition had taken a sudden turn for the worse. Ever since I’d received the news from my mother, I had been pale with worry, thinking of the man whose face I hadn’t even wanted to see until just the other day.
While Yamamoto kindly looked after me, I booked my train tickets and caught the first limited express the following morning.
Yamamoto couldn't come with me because of his lectures and part-time job. I remember how apologetic and pained he looked when he told me that.
"Oh, Yamamoto-kun isn't with you?"
As I arrived and climbed into my mother’s car, that was the first thing she said.
"He seemed busy over there too."
"I see... I see."
"Did you want to see him for some reason?"
"Yeah. Your father did."
An awkward atmosphere filled the car.
"Lately, every time I go to see him, he asks, 'How are Megumi and that guy doing?' When I give him a vague answer like 'They're doing fine,' he always gets sullen. He says, 'What, is that guy not even giving a proper update? Call him right now. Even if it’s just Megumi.' Honestly, I wish he’d give it a rest."
"...Ahaha."
I could only manage a dry laugh.
I hadn't known it at all during High School, but hearing that made it clear my father was a contrary, willful man.
When we arrived at the hospital, my father was sleeping quietly. He looked so peaceful that I was momentarily struck by the terrifying thought that he might have already passed away.
Come to think of it, my father had been in a four-person ward until recently, but now he was in a private room.
A bad premonition tightened my chest.
"Ah, the Hayashi family."
"Ah, Doctor. Hello."
"...Hello."
Shortly after, the attending physician arrived in the room.
"So, Doctor, how is my husband doing?"
The doctor wore a serious expression. My mother and I both held our breath.
"Fortunately, the crisis has passed."
"...I see."
My mother was visibly relieved. I’m sure I felt just as much relief as she did, even if I didn't say it out loud.
"However, his condition is still precarious. Please keep that in mind."
After the doctor left to attend to other patients, we spent some time tidying up my father's room. We stayed for about an hour, but he never woke up that day.
In the car on the way back home, the doctor's warning wouldn't leave my head.
"Mom, I think I'll stay here for a few days."
"Will Yamamoto-kun be all right with that?"
"...Yeah. He'll forgive me for that much."
In fact, I suspected Yamamoto wouldn't get angry no matter how long I stayed, regardless of the circumstances.
As soon as I got home, I sent a message to Yamamoto on my smartphone. I’d call him later. If possible, I wanted to tell him the details with my own voice. Five minutes later, my phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Hayashi. Are you okay?"
Yamamoto's voice was brighter than usual. He was likely acting cheerful out of consideration for me.
"Yeah. I'm... and my father is, okay for now."
"...That's good."
"Sorry for making you worry."
"Don't be stupid. I'm your roommate. It's only natural for me to worry."
"...Yamamoto, is it okay if I stay at my place for a while?"
Yamamoto paused.
"Just for a little bit. I'm a little worried until my father wakes up."
"Don't worry about me. Stay there until you're satisfied. I’d actually like to go visit him when the weekend comes, if that’s all right?"
"Eh?"
"I might just cause unnecessary stress, right?"
At those words, I gave a wry smile. Even though my father was the one who wanted to see him, this guy was thoughtful to a fault.
"...It's fine. My father wants to see you too, so please come."
"Yeah, thank you."
"...The one who should be saying thank you is..."
Me.
I started to say it, but stopped. Because saying something like that made it sound like I was conscious of him, which was embarrassing. Well, the truth was I was incredibly conscious of him.
"Yeah. See you later, then."
After that, we chatted about trivial things for about ten minutes before hanging up. It was a strange feeling. Perhaps it was because we were apart for once, but I found myself wishing it were already the weekend.
Right now, there was a sense of fulfillment inside me.
But then, I remembered. I remembered that I had once subjected Yamamoto—the man who was filling my heart right now—to a cruel Public Execution.
With my father’s sudden critical condition, I hadn't had the luxury to dwell on it, but now that my heart felt a bit lighter, the guilt started to ache again. It was painful to realize I had done something so terrible to him of all people.
A few days had passed since my reunion with Maeda. I had come to realize one thing: the cancellation of the Post-Festival Party wasn't Yamamoto's fault.
It wasn't that I had uncovered the definitive truth of the event yet. I simply realized that the very premise of the accusation was flawed.
I thought about the circumstances again. Why was the blame pinned on Yamamoto?
The story went that the Post-Festival Party Cancellation happened because Yamamoto forgot to order the wood for the campfire—a task he was supposedly responsible for. Because he forgot his job, he was treated as the culprit.
But was that really how it worked?
A School Festival Executive Committee is an organization, not a collection of individuals acting on their own. In a normal organization, the responsibility for a failure doesn't just stop at the staff level. A blunder by a committee member is the responsibility of the chairman, and the chairman's failure is the responsibility of the supervising teacher.
And yet, only Yamamoto was blamed.
The reason why was clear.
"Because that guy, whenever he actually showed up for work, he was always talking back to the seniors like he was hot stuff, you know?"
It was because the First Year School Festival Executive Committee was a crude, childish organization.
"Anyway, while everyone else was having fun, he’d suddenly start lecturing the seniors and ruin the mood! That's why everyone assumed the rumor was true—that he forgot the wood on purpose to get back at them because things didn't go his way."
It was because everyone found Yamamoto, who disrupted their "harmony," to be a nuisance.
And...
"Yeah, I forgot to order the wood. My bad."
It was because Yamamoto apologized.
"...Everyone is truly the worst."
The members of that committee must have been so relieved to see Yamamoto take the fall. Because he stepped forward to take the heat, they were never held accountable. They were the worst kind of people. They likely felt they’d been saved, letting Yamamoto shoulder the blame while they enjoyed the rest of their school lives without a care in the world.
"I'm the worst too..."
But I didn't have the right to be angry at them. I, who didn't even investigate the facts and attacked Yamamoto to his face, was just as guilty. I couldn't let myself be carried away by anger.
Right now, something else bothered me even more.
"Why did Yamamoto say it was his fault back then?"
Why had he told me it was his fault the day after the festival? If he hadn't said that, then... No, I might have just intimidated him into saying it anyway.
But after seeing the Yamamoto I’d reunited with, I’d learned something. He was actually quite strong-willed. If he felt he wasn't at fault, he would never apologize.
Yet he had apologized. Was it because he felt he shared the responsibility? That was possible. He was kind; he was the type who would willingly take the fall for others.
Taking the fall.
Ever since I remembered the cancellation, I’d felt a persistent sense of wrongness. It was a doubt I carried because I knew him better now than I did in High School.
I remembered his words to me recently: "If something happens to you, everyone will come to me. They'll ask why I didn't stop you. Whether I can say I tried to stop you or not changes how everyone sees me."
According to Maeda, Yamamoto was always causing friction in the committee. I could guess what kind of trouble it was. He was likely pointing out things that needed to be fixed.
Absences without notice. Low motivation. The risk of forgetting the firewood.
The work environment for that committee must have been a disaster. Yamamoto saw the crisis coming. He knew that at this rate, a mistake was inevitable. So he spoke up. In an environment where people were slacking off, he kept sounding the alarm day after day.
But the environment didn't change, and the mistake happened. The Post-Festival Party was canceled.
Based on Yamamoto's own logic, he should have been able to escape blame. He had identified the problem early and tried to fix it. He should have been able to say "I told you so" to everyone.
Instead of apologizing to me, he should have been able to denounce the rest of the committee right alongside me!
And yet, he didn't. Why?
"What should I do now?"
I could track down every member of that committee like I did with Maeda, but I wouldn't get the truth from them. They were the ones who pushed the blame onto him to save themselves. They’d just claim they forgot or didn't know anything. I wouldn't get a straight answer.
If that were the case...
I realized something. I was back in my hometown anyway. I was going to be at my parents' house for a while.
I decided then and there that I would visit my alma mater tomorrow.