Hyouka:Volume 5 Prologue-1

1. Present: 0km

In the end, it didn't rain. To think I had prayed as much as I did, too.

My prayer didn’t go through last year either. This can only mean that praying for rain is completely useless. Now that I know that, I suppose I’ll be able to peacefully wait for the inevitable when this time rolls around again next year. If I don’t need to do something, I won’t do it. If I absolutely have to, I’ll make it quick. Today, I, Hōtarō Oreki, learned that praying for rain is something I don't need to do.

Of the thousand or so Kamiyama High School students that were initially spread about the school grounds, a third had already disappeared. They had set off on a journey to the far reaches of the distant horizon. I understood what they were doing was nothing more than profitless toil, but I felt no sympathy. After all, I would soon be following after them in their suffering.

With an ear-grating howl, the megaphone was switched on again, and from it came a command.

“That concludes the third-years. Second-year Class-A, come forward.”

Fellow students filled into their set positions as if they were being dragged along by something. Among them were faces brimming with spirited passion. However, most of the students had such a look of resignation on their faces that the tranquility it radiated was almost saintly. I probably had the same exact expression on mine.

There was a line drawn in chalk on the ground. Alongside it stood a General Affairs committee member, pistol in hand. He didn’t radiate any bit of the usual no-nonsense severity normally found in a cold enforcer of cruel judgement like himself. Considering his markedly middle-school face, he must be a first-year. He stared intently at his stopwatch, itself looking as if it wouldn’t tolerate disorder for even a second. At the end of the day, he was just following his orders. Most likely, he wasn't even thinking about what kind of special significance his actions towards us held. Even if he were to consider it, at most it would be something along the lines of:

“I didn’t make this decision. My boss told me to do it, and I have to do what was assigned to me. It’s not like I want to do this, and I hold no responsibility in the matter.”

It was precisely this thought that allowed him to be so capable of such incalculable cruelty without even so much as a change in his expression. Slowly, he raised the pistol in his hand.

Even now, at this very moment, perhaps we will see a torrential rain so violent and so sudden that it will forever change the field of meteorology as we know it. However, the July sky remained so refreshingly clear that it pissed me off. Not even foxes would get married on a day like this.

“Ready.”

Ah, that’s right. Didn’t I just realize it a second ago? Heaven doesn’t respond to our prayers. I have no other choice than to find the solution in a way only I can.

Even until the very end, the committee member didn’t look up from his stopwatch. With a thin finger, he pulled the trigger.

An explosive noise rang out, and white smoke rose from the barrel.

This was the race for Kamiyama High School’s Hoshigaya Cup. At last, Class 2-A was ordered to start running.

Kamiyama High School is well known for the sheer amount of enthusiasm with which it treats cultural activities on campus, to the extent that even counting just how many events there are is a pain in and of itself. If I recall correctly, the number reaches over fifty. The autumn culture festival takes place over the span of three days, and the passion surrounding it is so intense that anyone with a cool head would agree they might be overdoing it a little.

On the other hand, this means that there is an overabundance of sports events as well. Although there were no athletes from our school that looked like they could compete in last year’s sports inter-high, I hear that the martial arts clubs have a fairly impressive history with it. While things start to quiet down after the culture festival ends, the sports festival starts right away, and in addition to that, a lot of major sports tournaments also take place right after the start of a new academic year. That said, I don't find it all that grueling. It’s not like I’m bursting at the seams with the desire to participate either, but I could at least agree to something like playing as a volleyball receiver or running in the 200 meter relay. If I absolutely had to, I could find it in me to work up a little sweat and show everyone a smile.

When I couldn't summon even this smile, however, was when I was told to run further.

…Specifically, when I was told to run 20,000 meters.

The Kamiyama High School long-distance running tournament takes place every year at the end of May. Apparently, its actual name is the “Hoshigaya Cup.” Even though the event was supposedly named after a graduate who previously established himself in Japan as a skilled long-distance runner, no one calls it by that name. In contrast to how the culture festival was called something enigmatic like the “Kanya Fest” even though it had no proper name, the “Hoshigaya Cup” was usually known simply as the “Marathon Competition.” In my case, however, because my friend Satoshi Fukube only ever calls it the Hoshigaya Cup, the name ended up sticking for me as well.

Now, it’s possible that I should be happy considering the marathon competition is shorter than an actual marathon, but in the end, I really wished it would rain today. According to Satoshi, the notice concerning the use of public roads indicated that, in the event of rain, the marathon is to be stopped immediately and without resumption.

However, then he also added, “But it’s strange, isn’t it? As far as I can tell from the records, the Hoshigaya Cup hasn’t been stopped once to date.”

There must be a god out there looking out for the athletes in the Hoshigaya Cup.

That god is undeniably rotten to the core.

I wore a white short-sleeved shirt and shorts that were somewhere in-between red and purple, something like a dark rouge. The girls wore short tights with the same color. The school’s emblem was embroidered on the shirt’s chest-area, and below that was sewn a paper bib displaying the student’s class and name. The string holding the “Class 2-A / Oreki” bib in place was already beginning to turn ragged. Sewing it on was a pain, and I ended up doing a half-baked job. Not good.

Normally, at the end of May, it does not rain as much as it might in subsequent rainy season.　Having it be canceled on Saturday and Sunday if it ended after it started on Friday makes it seem like minimal consideration was given to it. Due to the 9:00 PM start, it was still unpleasantly cold. As the sun rises, I’m going to start sweating.

On the school grounds, there was another entrance aside from the front gates, and all of Class 2-A exited from it as they started running. Goodbye, Kamiyama High School. May we meet again in 20 kilometers.

The Hoshigaya Cup course was not very clearly defined, in that the only specific instructions were really “Do a lap around the back of the school.” The thing was, however, the mountainous area behind the school continued all the way to the distant, snowy Kamikakiuchi range, so in reality the “long-distance run” was something more along the lines of long-distance mountain trek.

I knew the exact course.

You run a bit alongside the river that flows in front of the school, and then go up hilly road to the right at the first intersection. The slope starts off gentle at first, but quickly ramps up in steepness. As you approach the very top, it becomes a slope that breaks your body.

Once you’ve climbed it, the road immediately drops. Just like the upward slope, the decline is much longer and more violent than one might expect, and your overworked knees will surely cry out in pain.

The end of the decline opens up a bit into a large expanse of countryside. You should be able to see the occasional house here and there. While there’s little inclination in the road at this point, it continues in a straight line for what seems like eternity, so this stretch tends to do the most mental damage.

Once you reach the end of the flats, you have to overcome another hill, but unlike the previous slope, the climb on this one isn’t as violent. Except, at this point the road becomes extremely windy, and the constant hairpin turns coming one after another tend to ruin your rhythm.

Ahead of that is an area in the north-eastern section of Kamiyama City named Jinde, the place where Chitanda’s house is located. At this point, you follow a thin river downhill.

Continue making your way through the valley like this, and you will eventually return to the town area. Though, in saying this, it’s not exactly like we can run alongside the dead center of a street used by cars. As a result, you use a back road. Once you pass by the front of Arekusa Shrine and look past the stereotypically white Rengō Hospital, you will begin to see Kamiyama High School.

How do I know this? Well, you see, I ran it last year as well. I know every length of the track from start to finish. But that knowledge won’t shorten the distance one bit. While I understand the results, I feel it’s necessary to omit the process in getting there. While it’s likely impossible, it should be the most optimal strategy. In other words, If I absolutely must cover 20km, I propose one should decide between using something like a bus or bike. Unfortunately however, this extremely rational thought-process of mine doesn’t seem like it will be heard.

Up first is the river in front of the campus, and already issues crop up. The majority of the course takes place in areas that have little traffic; however this section alone connects to a city bypass, so there was a considerable number of passing cars. Additionally, there wasn’t anything like a curb separating the pedestrian and motor roads, only a single white line. The only reason we had to start at this time was to so we didn’t cause any congestion in the streets.

The students of Class 2-A ran in a single-file line inside the area marked off by the white line. This was the only point during the entire 20km at which both the fast students and the slow students had to run at the exact same pace. If they didn’t, they would end up poking out into the roadway. Last year we were more-or-less allowed to expand out from the single-file line, however this year, it was strictly prohibited. It was a measure that the school took to prevent any accidents as a third-year was hit by a car in this area yesterday. Thanks to that, we were allowed the immense pleasure of being packed into a line that was difficult to run in. So I guess I won’t be walking this kilometer stretch. The line was jogging at a light, easy pace. The road ahead of me was long. If I imagine the jog as next-level walking instead, I suppose this speed will be fine.

Before long, I finished the kilometer section, and the course swung a wide right. We veered away from the main road leading into town and approached the school’s rear. Thus began the upward slope.

The single-file line crumbled away. As if they were propelled by the building frustration of not being allowed to run at their own pace, those in the class that were more physically oriented immediately broke away from the group. Several groups of girls, most likely motivated by some promise to happily run alongside each other, also began to run.

And as for me, I slowed down.

…And slowed down even more.

I was essentially walking at that point, but I continued to look like I was running regardless.

Sorry to all the Hoshigaya athletes out there, but I can’t afford to be happy-go-lucky like you. In the span of this 20km, there is something I absolutely must find out, and I only have 19km left to do it. Roughly 100m into the upward slope, I heard a voice call out from behind me.

“Ah, there he is.”

I didn’t turn around. The owner of the voice popped out in front of me anyways.

He, Satoshi Fukube, then got off the bicycle he had been riding.

From a distance, I thought he looked like some sort of androgynous gentleman, but up close it was like I unexpectedly opened up a middle school yearbook, his face looked so unexpectedly different. Of course, the trouble was not that his face had actually changed that much, but rather, that over the course of the past year, he had come to lock up all his emotions behind that façade. I didn’t realize it because I had been face-to-face with him for 2 out of the past 3 days.

This year around, Satoshi became the General Committee vice-president. As the General Committee was running the Hoshigaya Cup, the members did not need to run. After all, they set up before the race started and were expected to be distributed around the course. He wore a yellow helmet and pushed his usual mountain bike. I looked at him with a sideward glance and said, “You sure it’s fine to slack off like this?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I already made sure the race started without a hitch, and I’m not going to come back until the last runner passes the finish line.”

“Must be tough.”

I understood that the General Committee didn’t have to run as thanks for their efforts in supervising every aspect of the Hoshigaya Cup. Now this guy is going to be flying all over this 20km course on his mountain bike to report if any unforeseen situations ever occur. Satoshi relaxed his shoulders.

“Well, it’s not like I hate cycling, so it’s not all that bad. But I wouldn’t need to do this if I could use my cell phone.”

“How about you tell them that?”

“None of the students on campus are technically allowed to carry cellphones. But in reality, if someone were to get hurt you would use a cellphone to call for help, right? They seriously need to re-evaluate their rules, I swear.”

With this he lamented over the General Committee’s inflexible organizational structure, but then a serious expression suddenly came over him.

“In any case, do you think you have an idea yet?”

As I sluggishly walked on, I responded carefully.

“I still haven’t any idea.”

“Mayaka is…”

He started to speak, but faltered. I had an idea of what he wanted to say, so I started talking instead.

“It’s clear that she suspects me.”

“No, I don’t think that’s the case. I seems like she thinks it can’t be you. This is just something someone told me, but apparently she said, ‘I don’t think he did anything. After all, he literally does nothing.’”

A bitter smile crept across my face. Not only was this something that Ibara probably said, but it had been like that in reality as well. Yesterday, I did absolutely nothing.

If that’s what she really thinks, however, Ibara’s going to present quite the problem.

“If it’s not me…”

“Exactly,” replied Satoshi with a deep sigh.

If it wasn’t me, there was only one other person it could be. I remembered what happened yesterday.