It had been a long time since I'd stepped foot in the school. Kako-chan looked utterly dejected.
The conversation had taken a completely unexpected turn. What on earth did Kako-chan feel so guilty toward Yamamoto for?
A single possibility occurred to me.
"Does this have something to do with the school festival from three years ago?"
At my words, Kako-chan’s eyes widened in surprise.
"Oh... was I wrong?"
"...No. You're spot on."
The pieces seemed to click into place for her.
"I see. You're in love with Yamamoto-kun, aren't you?"
...Wait, what?
"I-I don't l-l-like him like that!"
Well, okay... maybe I do.
I mean, Kako-chan... I do love him.
If I had to put a number on it, I'm so in love with him that lately, the only way I can get a decent night's sleep is by hugging his pillow. But you don't have to say it right to my face...
"Ahaha. Sorry, sorry. Back in high school, you always had such a sharp, intense look in your eyes, Megu. I just thought it was a little funny to see you finally fall in love."
"Did you... did you even hear a word I said?"
"Of course I did. Honestly, you're as stubborn as ever."
I glared at her with everything I had, but thanks to her years of experience, my glares had never worked on her.
"Megu. First, tell me—just how much have you uncovered about the school festival three years ago?"
After a moment, Kako-chan’s expression shifted, becoming grave and serious. I composed myself and shared everything I had learned with her.
I told her how everyone believed the Post-Festival Party had been canceled because of Yamamoto. How the rumors claimed he had sabotaged the committee out of spite. And how, because of those rumors, he had become a pariah in his own class.
"But the whole story is nonsense to begin with," I added. "The committee's work isn't something left to a single person's discretion. Even if Yamamoto was the one responsible for ordering the wood, a failure to place that order shouldn't have fallen solely on his shoulders, right? I'm not exactly in a position to talk, since I was one of the people blaming him back then, but the whole thing is just wrong."
"...I see. You've certainly done your homework, Megu. The circumstances back then were pretty much as you described. So, what you really want to know is... what the preparation period was like, and what was actually happening with Yamamoto-kun?"
"I'm glad you catch on quick, Kako-chan."
She gave a small, weary smile. Then, she leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a long time, likely trying to figure out where to begin.
"Right. First, let's clear up the most important thing," she said eventually. "Megu, you're right. None of that was Yamamoto-kun's fault."
A wave of immense relief washed over me. I practically melted into the sofa, the tension draining out of me so fast I thought I might slip right onto the floor.
"...You really went to great lengths to look into this."
"I just asked one of the committee members from back then."
"Even so. Most people wouldn't have bothered. Is this the power of love too?"
"S-Stop it! This is embarrassing!"
Seeing me genuinely flustered, Kako-chan began to grin. She wasn't trying to be mean; she just looked like she found the whole thing too heartwarming to keep a straight face.
"Let's get back to the point. Though, if we're going to talk about this, I have to apologize to you, too. I'm sorry. In the end, it was a failure on the school's part."
"The school's?"
"It's like you said—a mistake within an organization isn't the responsibility of the person at the task level. A subordinate’s error is the chairman’s failure. The chairman’s failure is the faculty advisor’s failure. And the advisor's failure is the school's failure."
In other words, Kako-chan was apologizing to me as a representative of the institution.
"...It doesn't do any good to apologize to me. I was the one who joined in on the blaming."
"I suppose so."
The only person who truly deserved an apology was the one who had stepped forward to take the heat, the one who had played the villain to spare everyone else: Yamamoto.
"So, what actually happened?"
"Well, it's pretty much as you guessed. The motivation of the students on the committee that year was at an all-time low. There were a few reasons for that. The third-year chairman was checked out because of upcoming entrance exams. The advisor, Mr. Sakaigawa, was young and didn't know his left from his right. Traditionally, the committee advisor role is forced onto the youngest teacher on staff."
I remembered Mr. Sakaigawa. He was a young history teacher who always seemed to sleepwalk through his lessons with a listless attitude.
Kako-chan was being polite, but I got the message. Essentially, the committee members saw Mr. Sakaigawa's lack of interest and followed suit. If the person supposed to lead them didn't care, morale was bound to plummet.
"Because of him, Yamamoto..."
"That's not it, Megu."
"Why not?"
"We don't have the right to blame Mr. Sakaigawa. Those of us who left him to handle such a massive task alone, without offering a shred of support, are just as guilty."
"But that's..."
"But isn't it true? An organization only works when everyone is pulling in the same direction. When there's no motivation from the leaders or the workers, all that's left is buck-passing and excuses. There was no way that could have ended well."
I fell silent.
"And those of us who just watched from the sidelines have no right to criticize, either. If we saw it was headed for disaster, we should have spoken up. We should have said, 'This isn't working,' or 'We’re going to fail if we keep this up.' We should have instilled a sense of urgency and pulled everyone together."
She was right. I had no choice but to stay quiet.
"...In that entire school back then, there was only one person who sincerely wanted the festival to succeed. Just one."
Her voice sounded desperately lonely.
I knew who she was talking about. It wasn't the principal. It wasn't the chairman. It wasn't Mr. Sakaigawa, or Kako-chan, or me.
That person was...
"It was Yamamoto-kun."
Maeda had said it himself. He mentioned that whenever he bothered to show up for work, Yamamoto was always snapping at the chairman.
That wasn't an easy thing to do. A mere freshman, defying his seniors.
Just like Maeda said, Yamamoto had forced the people who were just there to fool around to face reality. For his trouble, he was labeled as someone who couldn't read the room and buried under baseless accusations.
Even so, Yamamoto...
Back then, in that entire school, he was the only one who truly cared about making the festival a success.
"That sounds like him," I said with a self-deprecating smile. If I didn't find a way to laugh at the absurdity of it all, I felt like I would be crushed under the weight of my own guilt.