Editing Hyouka:Volume 6 1 (section)

=== 2. ===



I made yakisoba for dinner that evening.

It had been fairly clear out in the afternoon, but because the clouds gathered as the day set and seemingly prevented the heat from escaping back into the sky, the night air around me was humid and none the cooler, despite the absent sun. As everyone else in my family had their own pressing matters to attend to, I was alone in the house. Cooking sounded like it'd be a pain, so I peeked through the fridge in the hopes of finding leftovers or something else that didn't require effort to prepare and spotted some chilled noodles meant for yakisoba.

I found some shriveled lettuce, dried enoki mushrooms, and stale bacon, so I cut them up to shreds. I added oil to the pre-heated frying pan and threw in the noodles first, letting them sit there for the meantime. White steam started to billow upwards from the pan, and I became somewhat anxious as I hadn't added any water, but I managed to suppress that feeling in the end and waited a couple of minutes as it was being cooked, pulling the noodles apart every now and then. I then transferred them—crunchy, almost burnt—to a plate all at once and then started sautéing the other ingredients. When those were cooked as well, I moved them to the edge of the pan with long cooking chopsticks and poured Worcestershire sauce in the now empty space. As it started to simmer, its iconic fragrance wafted up from the pan and dyed the kitchen air around me with yakisoba tones. I finally added the sauce to the noodles and lightly tossed the mixture. With that was one order, ready to serve.

I carried the plate from the kitchen to the living room and then brought out a pair of chopsticks with a glass of barley tea to finish my preparations. On the table was some sort of postcard for my sister, reading "Class 3-I Reunion Notice." I don’t want to imagine what she'd say to me if I ended up accidentally getting sauce on it, so I moved the postcard to the letter rack, and finally, I was ready to dig in without any further distractions. I brought my hands together, and just as I picked up the chopsticks, the phone started to ring.

I looked up at the clock on the wall and it read exactly half past seven. The nerve of someone to call at a time meant so perfectly for dinner... To add to that, I was the only one home, so whoever they wanted to speak to was likely not even here in the first place. At first, I was just going to let it continue ringing as I picked up the steaming yakisoba noodles, but it ended up being so incessant and sincere that ignoring it any further caused a strange feeling of guilt to well up from within me. If I had to do it, do it quickly; I sighed and put my chopsticks back down. I stood up and picked up the receiver.

"Yes?"

"Hello, is Oreki-kun—"

I had assumed the call was going to be for my father or sister, but the voice from the other end wound up being one I was all too familiar with. Perhaps guessing from my voice and the atmosphere between us, the person calling suddenly switched from his polite tone to his usual one.

"Houtarou?"

"Yeah."

"Whew, what a relief. I didn't think you'd be the one to answer. I'd have no idea what to say if that sister of yours picked up the phone instead."

Although it might've been fortuitous for Satoshi Fukube, I couldn't say the same for me.

"Sorry, but for every second I talk with you, my yakisoba gets colder and colder."

"What?! Yakisoba you say?! What a tragedy!"

Yes, a tragedy, indeed.

"I'm glad you understand. Please get to the point, then."

I heard laughter in his voice. "You wouldn't have this problem if you just got a cellphone already. That's not what I wanted to talk about, though... I was hoping you'd take a little walk with me. You free after this?"

As I wasn't really the type of person to party late into the night, I rarely left the house after dinner. It’s not like it wasn't unheard of, though. Thinking back on it... that's right. I had gone on an evening stroll with Satoshi once before. I glanced at the clock again. It'd probably take me fifteen minutes or so to finish the yakisoba, and some time after that to change.

"Yeah, I can leave at about eight."

"Okay. I'm glad to hear that. Should I come pick you up?"

I drew a map in my head of the distance between both of our houses. I'm sure he'd be willing to come all the way here considering he was the one who asked me in the first place, but I guess there was no reason to bully him like that. I thought up a location that was more or less an equal distance between our houses.

"Let's meet up at Akabashi Bridge."

"Sounds good. It'd be terrible to let your yakisoba get any cooler, so let's continue our conversation then. See ya."

The call promptly ended there without any lingering hesitation or closing remarks. He probably figured that any longer would only annoy me; that sensitivity was just like him.

When I returned to the table, the surface of the yakisoba had in fact cooled. With a simple one, two tosses of what previously seemed cold, however, heat began to rise from the dish once more.



Moonlight pierced down through the thin clouds in the sky, and a damp wind blew between the many houses around me. I had left the house wearing a wool shirt at first but immediately felt too hot despite the nighttime breeze, so I changed into a cotton one instead.

Although I couldn't fit my wallet into my chinos' pockets, the idea of carrying a bag with me sounded like a hassle. At the same time, however, I couldn't really rely on Satoshi to cover me if we did end up needing to spend money and I didn't have any on me, so I took two thousand yen notes from my wallet and put them into my shirt's pocket. I stuck my thumbs into my pants pockets and left the house at the promised hour, but night fell early in Kamiyama City, and the narrow streets had already descended into soft silence.

Although I didn't really rush at all, I managed to arrive at our rendezvous point in less than ten minutes. As the name Akabashi literally meant "red bridge," it was exceedingly common, and in reality, the bridge we were meeting at wasn't even called that in the first place. It was called that, as you might imagine, because it was painted red, and its original name was forgotten all too easily. The area itself was often crowded in the afternoon because of the banks and the post office nearby, but I had no idea it became so empty after the sun set. I looked at the red bridge, illuminated by the street lights, but I saw no one there. <i>How strange,</i> I thought, <i>I thought he would've left first.</i> As I looked around, however, a hand suddenly touched my shoulder from behind.

"Evening..."

Although I'd be lying if I said I wasn't surprised, I wasn't that taken aback either. It's possible I sensed his surprise attack when I didn't see him at first. Without even turning around, I responded with a simple "Hey."

"What a let-down. Where's the love?"

Satoshi circled in front of me with a grin on his face, but it felt like there was something hidden behind his smile. His eyes didn't meet mine, but instead fixated on the bridge as he continued.

"Where should we go now?"

"I'll leave it up to you."

I didn't have much experience with these kinds of things, so I didn't know what was normal for a nighttime stroll. Satoshi turned his head and said, "It'll get a little more lively if we walk towards the city, but... I guess we can't go through the streets with all the bars. They're pretty scary."

"Probably, yeah, Mr. General Committee Vice President."

"There’s a family restaurant up ahead if we follow the bypass.. It's open 24 hours."

That was far, though. We wouldn't be able to get there without a car, or at least a bicycle. I guess Satoshi wasn't being serious, however, as he continued, "Well, let's just see where the wind takes us."

I didn't mind in the slightest.

Satoshi crossed Akabashi Bridge and started to follow a small path going upstream, along the city river. There was more water in it than usual, probably a result of the rainy season, and I could hear the gushing sounds of its strong currents. There were no streetlights in this part of the city, so I could only rely on the glow seeping from the faintly illuminated windows of the surrounding houses and the occasionally hidden moon to see my path. That said, my eyes eventually became fairly used to the darkness. Past a gnarled knothole in an aging wooden fence, past a curiously constructed sake bar with a traditional ball of interwoven cedar leaves functioning as a customer chime from the eaves, past the front of a rundown public bath with a "closed" sign lying on its side, we walked slowly through the city night.

Embankments had been constructed on both sides of the river, and they looked something like large stone walls. A good number of trees were planted in a row along the edge, and among them were some that curved out above the water's surface, almost as if they were flinging themselves out of the procession in the hopes of finding sunlight. I suddenly stopped and placed a hand on one of those roadside trees. Its surface was abundant with stiff bumps and protrusions, and its leaves resembled a shiso's in size. It was a cherry blossom tree. I bet this was a popular spot for cherry blossom viewing, and these well-kept streets almost certainly become lively in the flower blooming seasons. At this moment, however, only Satoshi and I walked along them, and these trees which have already discarded their blossoms wouldn't even be recognized for their true nature without a closer look. It seemed a bit sad, but what can you do? Time moves on.

I lifted my hand from the tree trunk and asked, "So, what's wrong?"

Satoshi hadn't called me out for a walk to simply enjoy the night, of course.

Sure, our friendship had gone on for some time, but it wasn't all that deep. We rarely ever made plans over the weekend, and when we went home together, it was usually only because we finished up at school at the same time. The fact that Satoshi had called me out like this almost certainly meant that he had something he needed to talk about, and not only that, it also meant that it was either too urgent to put off until tomorrow or too confidential to talk about around prying ears at school.

The Satoshi I knew often beat around the bush, but tonight, that wasn't the case.

"I'm in a difficult situation," he said as he started to walk once more.

"I don't want anything to do with trouble."

"Trouble, huh? At the very least, I can say with certainty that I'm in a troublesome spot, but the most troubling part of it for me is that you have absolutely nothing to do with my situation."

Unable to comprehend exactly what he was trying to say, I frowned slightly in response. He shrugged and continued.

"In other words, the trouble for me is that I need to ask you for your help, Houtarou, even though you have absolutely zero stake in it."

"I see. If I were to go along with your request—"

"—it would go against your motto, 'If you don't have to do it, you won't.'"

What Satoshi was saying was correct in principle, but I had already rushed to finish my yakisoba to join him in the city. Had I intended on turning him away without even listening to his story that had nothing to do with me, I would've probably been washing the sauce-covered frying pan right now at home instead.

"Well, you can tell me what's going on at least."

Satoshi nodded. "You're too good to me. You remember that the student council president election was held today, right?"

"Yeah..."

Although it had happened mere hours ago, I had already managed to forget. After school ended, we casted our votes for the next student council president as the term for the previous one, Muneyoshi Kugayama, came to a close.

At Kamiyama High School, this election period was set to last for a week. During that period, the candidates put up posters all throughout the school grounds, made the case for themselves during school-wide assemblies, and debated one another over the intercoms via the broadcasting club. All of that came to a close yesterday, and today was when we voted.

"Do you remember the candidates?"

I racked my mind for the answer to Satoshi's question. "There were two... no, three people I think."

He returned an almost sad smile.

"I was going for names, but to think you didn't even remember how many people there were. The correct answer is two, though I guess you'd have to pay attention to know that. Our school is bursting at the seams with strange clubs, but the student council doesn't really stand out in comparison."

"That's true. The candidates were both sophomores, too."

"You remember that, huh? It's only natural they were sophomores. The freshmen just got here in April, and the seniors are going to be busy taking tests now."

I guess hearing the reason did make it pretty obvious.

"It was a face-off between Haruto Obata from Class D and Seiichirou Tsunemitsu from Class E. You might think everything ended after the voting, but I was actually one of the people tallying the votes."

I wasn't that interested in how the Kamiyama High School student council president election worked from behind the scenes, but his statement certainly piqued my curiosity. The jack-of-all-trades Satoshi Fukube is involved in a variety of clubs and groups, just for the hell of it. Specifically, he was a member of the Classics and Handicrafts Clubs and had been involved with the general committee ever since he was a freshman, now, even unceremoniously serving as its vice president. No matter how out of touch I was with the organizations in our school, even I remembered that there was an election administration committee as well.

"What happened with the election?" I asked.

Right as I did, Satoshi smiled. "Of course, it's the election administration committee that's responsible for the ballot boxes and vote counting. I was in charge of the oversight. Among the school rules governing school elections, there's a regulation stating that there has to be at least two students overseeing the vote counting process. The rules say that the only qualification needed to be met for this job is not being one of the candidates or in the election committee. So apparently, you used to be able to apply for it. Now, though, it's become a custom to delegate that job to the general committee president and vice president. I guess it <i>would</i> be a pain to have to search for people to do it every time."

Although he explained it so smoothly for me, it was precisely that lack of hesitation that made it so suspicious. This was Satoshi we were talking about, after all... As if picking up on my doubts, he quickly continued.

"I'm serious! I'm not lying. Not one bit!" he insisted repeatedly.

"Fine, fine. So?"

"There was a problem with the counting."

I see.

"At present, Kamiyama High School has 1,049 students, that is to say, 1,049 eligible voters."

When I first enrolled, there were 350 freshmen split among eight classes, so Satoshi's number seemed pretty reasonable in you counted all three grades.

He let out a forced sigh. "So, we totaled the votes... and we found out that there were 1,086 submissions."

"How…?"

It slipped from my mouth before I realized it. I'd understand it if there ended up being fewer votes than students. Some of them might've abstained, after all. But more? Satoshi nodded gravely.

"I have no idea. Taking into account the absent students, the ones that left early, and those who just didn't want to vote, I wouldn't really care if the total number of votes was any less, but if the number is more than the possible limit, you can't chalk it up to just a simple mistake."

He paused for a second and then continued.

"Someone did this out of spite."

I said nothing in return.

Just as Satoshi had said, judging solely by the information I had at the moment, I found it hard to believe this situation came about due to a simple error. Saying it was out of spite seemed like a bit of a reach, though, and it was probably more likely an impulsive prank or something like that. What did seem certain, however, was that somebody had somehow diluted the votes.

"In reality, the final tally showed that the difference in votes closely corresponded with the number of blank votes, and if the illegitimate ones were all blank, then that meant, of course, that the result wouldn't have changed anyways. The problem is that there isn't any wiggle room with this—if it was proven that something against the rules took place, the election administration committee would have to hold another election. I don't really care who put in the illegitimate votes... Though I can't even begin to comprehend the culprit's reason for doing this, I doubt I'll even be able to figure out who did it in the end. What I have to figure out is how he was even able to cast those votes in the first place."

"..."

"The most troubling part of this is that because the management of the official ballots was so half-assed, anyone could've created new ones. All you had to do, after all, was mark the paper with the official stamp, and you could find that lying around in the council room. But how did they manage to slip those ballots in with the rest? There's a hole somewhere in the Kamiyama High School student council president election process. As long as we continue to leave it unsealed, this kind of thing will continue to be possible, and conversely, even if future elections manage to go off without a hitch, we'll never be able to be certain that there wasn't an illegitimate vote submitted somewhere."

"Makes sense."

"I've thought about it a lot myself, but I hit a dead end no matter where I go. That's why, even though I didn't want to, I called you, Houtarou."

Satoshi broke off.

If that's was all he was going to say, then I pretty much got the gist of the situation. I scratched my head and looked up at the moon peeking through the clouds before dropping my gaze down to my feet.

"It looks like I should be getting back now," I said.



The small path continued straight along the river and passed by two bridges. We headed upstream, but how far did it continue like that? I suppose it was already too late to go on an adventure to find the source, though.

"You're going home..." he said, sounding as if he'd almost expected it, "I guess it was a bit too much to ask for, after all."

It wasn't that I thought he was asking for too much; the only problem was that he’d made a mistake. I'm sure he was fully aware of that himself but wanted to put it out there anyways.

"Well, sometimes telling others is all it takes to help yourself understand it better, so I don't mind listening at least. I'd appreciate it if you could leave that for tomorrow, though. I have dirty dishes waiting for me back home, and if I don't take care of them soon, the whole house will end up smelling like sauce."

"It might be a little too late for that."

He had a point. I should open all the windows the second I get home.

A light approached us from the front. It was a bicycle heading in the opposite direction. Until it passed us by, neither of us opened our mouths.

Satoshi finally broke the silence.

"Tomorrow won't work. I need an idea by tomorrow morning."

"Considering that you need to post the results by the end of the day at the latest, I guess I can understand. That should be the election committee's job, though."

A small sigh escaped my lips, and I continued.

"I knew you joined the handicrafts club and general committee for the kicks—something I personally can't understand for the life of me—but I was a little surprised when I heard you became the vice president. I thought you did the general committee activities partly for fun, so I never expected that you of all people would accept an official position. Did something change your mind?"

"Yeah... I guess you could say that."

"I see. I'm not sure if I should congratulate you or not, but that aside, just because you've taken on a role full of responsibilities like that doesn't mean I too want to get involved in any of its problems. Or are you telling me that it's my obligation as a student in our school to help maintain the soundness of our election system?"

He returned a conflicted smile.

"I'd never be able to say something totalitarian like that... Someone like me's much more suited to a bureaucracy."

"I'd say so. A nighttime stroll is certainly an interesting setting for a conversation with Satoshi Fukube, but if it's for a consultation with the general committee vice president, leave it for the committee room."

Satoshi didn't seem all too ruffled by my response, but replied with a hint of loneliness, not necessarily in jest.

"You sure don't mince your words, do you."

It's true that I may have been too harsh, but Satoshi had only himself to blame. If he refused to talk to me without a facade, then I had no choice but to reply in kind with my own—one of rejection of responsibility.

As I thus concluded my theory of the facade, I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and started to speak.

"So? What are you hiding?"

"Hiding? What do you mean?

Putting aside Satoshi's story of the mysteriously increased votes, two things didn't add up. The first point was what I mentioned earlier: namely, why did he come to me for help? The second point, however, was even more fundamental.

"Don't play dumb. This whole thing should be the election committee's problem. Thinking about it...  you should've had nothing to do with it in the first place, Mr. General Committee Vice President."

According to Satoshi's story, the general committee's president and vice president were responsible for nothing more than the simple oversight of the election. The illegitimate votes were certainly a major issue, but why was Satoshi the one trying to solve it? He had remained silent about this point.

To think that Satoshi, self-proclaimed natural denizen of bureaucracy, would rise above his post and pure-heartedly try and unravel the problem plaguing the election system for the sake of justice... I refused to believe it. I suppose it was theoretically possible that he had intervened as a member of the general committee in order to get around the restrictions holding the election committee back, but I was just as ready to crumple that delusion up and throw it out with the rest of the burnable trash on collection day. Satoshi himself said that, since becoming a sophomore, he had changed, but I found it impossible to accept that it was a change that drastic and fundamental. That's why when he, someone who always joked around but never uttered even a word of complaint, called me out at night to ask for help, I knew there was more to the story.

"What i'm saying is that you're hiding the reason why you yourself want to solve the mystery."

Satoshi smiled faintly.

"I just can't win when it comes to you."

I smiled as well.

"I'm glad you've come to terms with it. You shouldn't even be surprised at this point."

"I guess so. I thought I could hide it from you, but so much for that."

Satoshi jumped out a couple steps in front of me as if dancing to some rhythm and then turned around to face me, walking backwards as he spoke.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you everything from the start, Houtarou, even though I came to you for help. I don't blame you for getting mad. It's not really something I needed to hide, but you know..."

Although I wanted to tell him I had no idea what he was talking about, we've already known each other for a long time now. As vexing as it was, I had the feeling I did.



"The administration committee president is—how can I put this lightly—not really the kind of person that others tend to feel fondly about," said Satoshi as he put his hands together behind his head. "He acts all high and mighty, considering he's on a high school committee, you know? I'm not really sure how to put this... He's the kind of guy that just isn't satisfied without telling someone to 'stop messing around,' even if they're working hard like always. His favorite phrases are: 'Don't go deciding everything for yourself' and 'Figure it out yourself;' I heard them five times already, just today."

I knew there were people like that, but this was the first time I've heard of one my age. If his descriptions were in fact accurate, I'd imagine he was worst case scenario for someone like Satoshi to deal with. He continued.

"Though, you were right, Houtarou. I didn't have anything to do with him."

"Which means... it looks like someone else was involved."

"Sharp as always."

Satoshi gave me a thumbs-up.

"It was a freshman member of the election administration committee, from Class E. I don't remember his name. I probably heard it at some point, but I don't remember. He was a really energetic kid, always saying 'Right away!' when someone asked him to do something. I don't think we would've gotten along, but I could tell he always did what he was supposed to... well... tried, at least. He was pretty short; looked like a middle school student."

"I can see where this is going."

"Can you? Well hear me out until the end, at least. For one reason or another—maybe he was really efficient or his class worked hard to finish quickly—he was the first person to make it to the vote tallying area in the council room. After he got there—and if you ask me it was the president's fault—he messed up the proper procedures."

Satoshi put his hands out in front of him and gestured as if holding an invisible box.

"You probably know this already, considering you voted as well, but in Kamiyama's elections, everyone casts their vote by placing their ballots into the designated ballot boxes. Those boxes are then taken to the council room and—and this is the important part—opened in front of the overseers. Mr. Class 1-E opened the box up before the overseers came and spread out the votes in the middle of the table."

I thought for a moment and then said, "I don't think it's that big a deal, though..."

"Me too. The overseers' sole job is to make sure that the boxes are completely empty, first before taking it to the classrooms to vote and then after taking out the votes, before the tallying begins. I did confirm that Mr. Class 1-E's box was, in fact, empty, so in reality, you could argue that we did actually follow protocol.  But the election committee president insisted that there was no way to know for sure that he didn't dilute the votes while the overseers weren't present."

I see.

"Putting aside the mistake committed in the procedure, I have a really hard time believing that he was the culprit," I said.

"Everyone else felt the same way. Even I did. But apparently the election committee president didn't. Everything else went according to protocol, so there wasn't any chance for someone to mix in the illegitimate votes with the rest. That's why he decided that the fault couldn't have possibly lain with anyone else, and of course, verbally lashed out at the freshman."

Satoshi suddenly paused for a brief moment and then softly added one more thing.

"The freshman was crying, you know."

So that's what it was...

What it all boiled down to was: Satoshi wanted to prove there was another point at which it would've been possible to mix illegitimate votes in with the rest, even though no one had asked him to, all for the sake of some nameless underclassman who had been verbally abused far beyond the justified amount for his minor mistake.

Completely taken aback, I could only offer this in response:

"I swear... you never change, do you? Always playing the hero in the shadows."

He smiled hesitantly back.

"Give me a break, I just got a little angry, is all. Besides, if you don't mind me making excuses, it wasn't like I felt it was absolutely necessary to rely on your insight. I thought it would've been simple enough for me to handle alone, but I was wrong. It turns out our elections are surprisingly foolproof."

"Didn't we have a similar conversation the last time we went on a nighttime walk like this?"

"Yeah... that was back in our last year of middle school, if I remember correctly. Man, that brings me back."

I stared at Satoshi Fukube. Overall he looked frail and somewhat unreliable, and yet, his expression alone was brimming with confidence—the same Satoshi I've always known.

He wasn't particularly kind or gentle, nor did he even have a strong sense of integrity. In my opinion, however, what he did have, even if it didn't show on his face, was a stronger than normal hatred of the unjust and unfair. Even for things I dismissed with a "Well, that's life," he would furrow his brow and do everything in his power to fix what was within his reach.

That aside, however, I guess I could understand where he was coming from. It wasn't that he was telling me to figure it out as part of some investigation to help return the general committee and Kamiyama elections to a state of normalcy, but rather, he was asking me to help him give the election committee president a good one for the sake of a crying freshman.

Part of me grew a little irritated wondering why he didn't tell me that at the start.

A gust of wind blew through the town.