Editing Hyouka:Volume 5 Chapter 1-2

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==Chapter 1-2 "Past: 42 Days Ago"==

The Friday that falls on the very last day of new student recruitment week is often called the New Recruit Festival. It was apparently called this not because anyone in particular named it as such, but because it was simply more convenient to say.

The special events themselves, however, lasted all throughout the entire week.

From Monday after school onwards, the new students gathered in the gymnasium and sat through another orientation. Monday was the student council. After that were the important school committees. From Tuesday on, the various clubs took turns getting on stage to show the various first-years just how fantastic they were. Anyways, there were a considerable number of groups, so the orientation was held over a period of four days.

The same sort of thing happened last year as well, but I wasn’t interested in being solicited, so I left early. Now that I’m on the soliciting side this year, however, I thought I should probably do at least a little enemy reconnaissance. On Tuesday, Chitanda grabbed me and we did a little spying in the gym.

Each group was allotted five minutes to present. In that time, the Theatre Club put on a skit, the Clothing Research Society put on a fashion show, the choir and acapella clubs showcased the musical differences between the two of them, and the Track-and-Field Sports Club brought in a mat to demonstrate running high jumps.

There were also clubs clearly at a disadvantage. Not only did the Divination Research Society only have one member, that one member didn’t like showing off at all. With a quiet voice, she gave a brief explanation on the history of the Kabbalah, and then quickly put down the mic and left. The Cooking Research Society similarly had their own disadvantages. It’s not like you can instantly start preparing something the second you get on the stage. They could only really tell the first-years to come watch their edible herb cooking demonstration during the end-of-the-week New Recruit Festival. The Go Club played a game for the audience, but it was a failure no matter how you looked at it. They didn’t have a large demonstration board, so the audience couldn’t even see where they were placing the stones. It would have been fine if they had someone reading the moves out loud, but apparently there were only two people in the club. It was like time had frozen in place, desperately wanting to run away.

But this wasn’t the time nor place to be feeling sorry for the Go Club. Five minutes is an unexpectedly long amount of time.

The Classics Club was scheduled to present on Thursday. Because the academic year was in the process of being altered, Satoshi and Ibara were often busy so they didn’t show up to the clubroom for the most part. On Wednesday, however, everyone was gathered.

“What are we doing?”

Within my question was not only me wondering how we should fill our five minute timeslot, but me wondering if we were even capable of doing something like that in the first place.

“For now let’s just try our hardest,” responded Ibara with a voice clearly suggesting she wasn’t going to try her hardest.

“I agree, let’s try our hardest,” I retorted in like.

As I said this, however, she replied, “Try our hardest on what?”

How would I know? You were the one that said it first.

“Well as it goes, I’m the club president, so technically speaking I should probably be the one to give a speech that could explain what makes the Classics Club attractive, but…”

Chitanda was also being evasive. Judging from the way she hesitated while saying that sentence, she was, without a doubt, unable to think of any attractive points. That wasn’t all.

“Chitanda, even if you were to go onstage to try to sell up the Classics Club, I don’t think anyone would come.”

“Are you serious? Try looking in a mirror next time you say something like that.”

“No, it’s fine,” said Chitanda to the hostile Ibara. “I know I’m not good at asking people for favors.”

Chitanda had a strong will and limitless amounts of sincerity, but on the other hand, because that will of hers was so one-sided, sly tricks were ineffective. If we had the materials needed to convince them gathered here, Chitanda’s way of doing things might’ve worked, but unfortunately, our hand was empty.

That being said, Ibara was right about me needing to look in the mirror. If I were the one pulled out to face the first-years, I would doubtlessly only be able to say something along the lines of, “We don’t really do anything, but we do have a clubroom, so if you could stop on by, that’s be wonderful.”

However, I still had reservations about getting Ibara to do it.

“Chi-chan, I’ve never thought you were bad at it. If it were me doing it, I’d only end up saying something unnecessary.”

It appears the party in question also understands this.

At this point, there was only one person left.

Satoshi showed a troubled look on his face, but his eyes were clearly smiling.

“I wonder if I’m the right person for the job. Although, if there are no other suggestions and you absolutely need me, I suppose I could do it to kill some time.”

With that, it became Satoshi’s time to shine.

“If everyone is happy with our Thursday plans, you guys should start deciding onwhat you’re going to do on Friday. After all, if you plan on using fire or gas, you’ll need to turn in a request slip by tomorrow.”

Satoshi said this with his official General Committee voice and then stood up. I hadn’t known he had been chosen as the General Committee vice-president and was busy until later.

And then came Thursday afterschool. Satoshi Fukube stood on the gym stage as the sole Classics Club representative and let loose a variety of clever, apt one-liners, like “On the way here, I heard a lot of sawing noises coming from the Construction Club, but no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t see a thing. Classics Club, everyone.”<ref>I had to change up the pun. Please don’t laugh; I’m terrible at this stuff. Or do laugh, because that’s the point of a pun.</ref> His appropriate humor invited a good number of laughs from the first-years, and his flawlessly delivered speech wrapped up perfectly in four minutes and thirty seconds. He received a sparse applause and then exited the stage as the Abacus Calculation Club<ref>This is an actual type of club.</ref> came on next.

Even now, I admired my old friend’s remarkable gift.

After all, Satoshi’s speech had almost nothing to do with the actual Classics Club. Even though there was nothing to talk about, he splendidly filled the desired timeslot. That in itself was a spectacular ability, and one that I could never hope to imitate.



And then Friday rolled around. The sky was very clear.

In front of the Kamiyama High School building, in the garden or roundabout (or whatever you called it), there were several spaces dotted with shrubs. During lunch break, each of the clubs and committees had set up tables there. Because of the scattered bushes, the tables couldn’t be set up in a straight line, and as a result, the tables on both sides curved around in any number of offshoots.

I came to set up for the Classics Club. Satoshi was busy with General Committee work, and as much as I believed in my motto, “if I don’t need to do something, I won’t,” I didn’t feel like pushing all of the manual labor onto Ibara and Chitanda. I carried out the table and folding chairs and then lunch break ended. During afternoon classes, I was able to see the venue I set up from the window, but the dozens of tables lined up made the front gardens seem something like mysterious maze.

Before the bell that signaled classes were over chimed, my class, 2-A, started becoming restless. I heard various whispers coming from all directions.
“How are the preparations going?”

“Before anything else, we have to start with this.”

…and other things of that nature. A particularly hasty student put on an armband reading “Certain Victory!” while he was still in the class. Another one placed a stuffed bear on his desk. I couldn’t even begin to guess what clubs these people where in. I did understand the rush, though. If you were too late to catch the first-years before they left, all of that preparation would have been for nothing. A running start was crucial.

The bell rang, and classes ended. All of my classmates immediately flew out the door like a cascading avalanche. Most likely, this scene was the same in all of the second and third year classrooms. Although a little reluctant, I ended up joining the end of the avalanche anyways.

The garden that was at one point solely occupied by a line of empty tables was now overwhelmingly covered with various posters, signboards, and handouts. Even at a quick glance, I saw things reading: “Visit the Chemistry Club! May our future relations combust!” “Willing to bet your youth? Damn straight, the Basketball Club is for you!” “Enjoy creating it, and then have fun wearing it! Clothing Research Society.” “The Han Dynasty hath fallen, and the History Research Club shall be joineth!”<ref>This is a play on words. The original line (蒼天已死 黄天当立) comes from the Chinese <i>Records of the Three Kingdoms</i>, and it generally refers to the predicted downfall of the Han Dynasty and success of the Yellow Scarves Rebellion. For more information: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yellow_Turban_Rebellion </ref> “One more person and we’ll have eleven! Join the Soccer Club.” The Cheering Squad held a group flag, the Cheerleading Club formed a large circle, the smell of green tea began to drift from the Confectionery Research Society, the Tea Ceremony Club had diligently laid out an outdoor mat, and a bunch of people with headbands had gathered who were, if I remembered correctly, part of the Broadcasting Club. Not even ten minutes had passed since the school bell rang, and already this much pandemonium had broken loose.

All of this had started at 3:30, and it was scheduled to be completely taken down once it had reached 6:00. This roughly two-hour long madness was commonly known as the New Recruit Festival. The fact that the ‘recruit’ in the name didn’t mean “warmly invite” but rather “solicit by any means necessary” was something very typical of this school, indeed.

Most clubs had a single standard table, but depending on member count, popularity, and some invisible political element, there were other clubs that had one of the several large ones. Of course, it was decided beforehand which clubs would get them. The Classics Club had the number 17 table, so as I wandered around, searching for it, Chitanda called out to me, “Oreki-san, over here.”

I wasn’t looking forward to it that much, but as expected, our table was placed in a small corner of the venue. On it sat a small, cardboard sign reading “Classics Club.” While the writing was elegant, it also felt unreservedly warm. Without a sign, no one would be able to tell what kind of club we were trying to get them to join, but we hadn’t mentioned doing this kind of preparation. Possibly reading my expression, Chitanda gave a slightly conflicted laugh.

“I put it together during lunch break. I think I should have made it a bit cuter, but I didn’t think of that at the time.”
That meant this was Chitanda’s handwriting. I thought she’d normally write in a more textbook fashion, but her brushwork was surprisingly carefree. However, just as she had mentioned, it wasn’t cute in the slightest. It might’ve been nice if Ibara had drawn a little figure on it, but hindsight’s 20/20.

Chitanda wore a black coat as she sat on the folding chair. The front wasn’t buttoned, so her white sweater and tie peeked through. I was also wearing a white trench coat. The New Recruit Festival around us had plenty of burning passion, but even then, it was still abnormally cold for April. Looking around, almost all of the recruiters and the recruited students wore thick overclothes.

Next to the Classics Club were the Ink Painting and Karuta clubs. Each of them only had one person stationed there. I gave vague greetings, and squeezed through them. I then sat next to Chitanda, directly in the center of the “Classics Club” sign.

Satoshi wouldn’t be coming this time. He was busy with General Committee work, so it couldn’t be helped. Then, Chitanda spoke up.
“I guess Mayaka-san won’t be coming after all.”

“Manga Society?”

“I think that’s the case, but it’s not like she’s going to be at the booth necessarily.”

I remained quiet and nodded. I heard that Ibara’s position in the Manga Research Society had become somewhat delicate. It was probably becoming difficult for her to even look at the rest of them in the face. At any rate, we’d run into some problems if Ibara ended up coming now. Although I thought it was pretty big when I was carrying it earlier, looking at it now, the table we got wasn’t as long as the larger ones.

More precisely, it was really small.

With just the two of us sitting side-by-side, it was already getting a little hard to breathe. Had Chitanda been a little considerate in moving to give me some breathing room, I would have been quite comfortable, but unfortunately, she had a peculiar understanding regarding personal space, so the fact that we were close enough for our shoulders to be touching didn’t bother her in the slightest.

I took a small breath. Let’s just play it cool. We weren’t the only one that thought it was cramped. Just in my field of vision, for example, I could see the Photography Club and Global Act Club squeezed way too closely together, and we all had to start advertising our club whilst buried in this mess.

At any rate, I had to start doing something to catch the attention of the passing first-years.

With interested expressions that were still clearly intimidated by the presence of their seniors and faces that still betrayed their middle-school roots, the first-years came little by little. At that moment, I could’ve sworn that I heard the sound of people licking their lips, saying their prey had arrived. Fake, luring smiles filled the New Recruit Festival grounds.

The Classics Club couldn’t afford to lose either. Now, now, come on up ladies and gentlemen. Come forward, anyone with a little time to spare. If you would like to join the fantastic Classics Club, the reception table is right over here.



After five minutes, I became bored.

No one was even stopping at our table.

“I said I was going to catch us some first-years, but how do I even do that in the first place,” I grumbled as I stared at the new students passing by. Chitanda sat upright, her hands laying on her thighs, and without looking at me, she responded.

“If only we had some birdlime<ref>Birdlime is an adhesive that traps birds that land on it.</ref>, this would be simple.”

I knew roughly what birdlime was, but I had never seen it before. At most, it’s something like a bug net, right?

“Wouldn’t a bird net be more efficient?”

“Possibly, but it’s illegal.”

“I don’t think anyone will find out.”

“Oreki-san, are you the kind of person that ignores a red signal in the middle of the night?”

“I’m the kind of person that doesn’t go out on walks in the middle of the night, period.”

The conversation was so unproductive that it put even me in a miserable mood.

“You strike me as the type that would stop at that red light.”

“There are no traffic signals where I take my midnight strolls.”

It was so incredible unproductive.

I assumed something like this would happen, so I took out the book hidden in my coat pocket. I started reading the short story collection, and then spoke to Chitanda, who continued to face forward exactly as a receptionist might.

“We have nothing to do, so I’m going to be reading.”

As I said this, Chitanda finally turned to face me, and with a soft smile, she said, “That won’t do.”

“But no one’s coming.”

“That won’t do. Please just sit here quietly.”

Understood. I returned the book to my pocket. Thinking about it, if I were reading a book on the side like I had no interest in the festival, I guess new students would find it difficult to approach the table. On the other hand, if I were to remain sitting like this until evening, it would just get colder and colder. I crossed my hands behind my head.

Chitanda also looked like she had way too much time on her hands. No matter how strong her sense of responsibility was, she wasn’t an inanimate object, so we should probably leave if nothing continued to happen. She turned her head to the side, and seemed to be watching an excited student from another club with interest.

People continued to flow by. For some reason, as I watched this progression, I spoke.

“Cursed spots really do exist.”

“Yes, they do.”

She responded immediately. I didn’t know what to say in response.

A little while later, Chitanda turned to me and tilted her head.

“That’s not what you were talking about?”

What exactly was ‘that’ referring to? I decided to not think about it too hard, and leaned back into my folding chair.

“You know, one of those. In something like a shopping district or roadside area, even though it doesn’t look like it’s in a bad location compared to the other shops, you have a store that is constantly being destroyed and replaced by a new one. Before you realize it, there’s a new shop there, and no matter what kind of shop it is, it never gets any business. I was just thinking that spots like those really existed.”

“Ah, I see. A place that is constantly changing ownership. It’s mysterious, but once they change the signboard, I can never seem to remember what kind of shop it was previously.”

“That’s true, isn’t it? When it becomes a vacant lot, you end up even forgetting if there was a shop there in the first place.”

Chitanda nodded, and her expression begged me to continue. I wanted to avoid her eyes, so I slightly averted my face. As if to bring attention away from that, I lightly tapped the table with the back of my hand.

“I’m getting the same vibes here.”

“By ‘here’, do you mean this area?”

“Yeah.”

One section of the row of tables was placed in an area surrounded by ring of hedges. According to the General Committee’s official statement, the Classics Club was to be one of the clubs stationed in that clearing. However, I had been watching the path that the students had been taking since earlier, and things weren’t looking good.

When the first-years entered the ring, their backs were turned to us. If students weren’t interested in what was going on and decided to continue through to the school gates, they wouldn’t even see us once. However, if one was curious, if even for a little bit, and they decided to look around, they would naturally end up directly in front of our table. Judging solely by the flow of traffic, this spot shouldn’t leave a bad impression at all.

And yet, for some reason none of the first-years were even so much as stopping in front of it. They wouldn’t even look at Chitanda’s handwritten Classics Club sign.

“For some reason, doesn’t it feel like people are finding it hard to stop walking over here?”

As Chitanda watched the group passing in front of us, she slowly responded.

“I think the biggest problem is that we aren’t calling out to them.”

Loud voices from every club were intersecting each other in the air all throughout the front gardens. “Hey, you look like a quiz kind of guy. I’m sure you’re searching for a quiz even as we speak. I feel you. Well then, first question!” “We also host English debates. Your English grade will certainly rise, it normally does.” “No no, I’ll start from the rules. It’s easy if you memorize them. If you just pay attention to where “gold” and “silver” are, you’ll be fine!”<ref>”Gold” and “silver” here refer to pieces from Shogi, a Japanese version of chess.</ref> “Are you bad at cooking? It’s fine if you are, because you’ll only get better in the Cooking Society. Come to the clubroom and start making something today!” “Astronomy Club, Astronomy club over here! Do you like stars? Love planets? Although technically we can’t see the sky.” I had just realized it, but even the singularly manned Ink Painting Club and Karuta Club were calling out to the passing students.

Certainly enough, staying quiet and then complaining that ‘no one was stopping’ seemed pretty irrational.

At the same time, however, Chitanda then said this.

“Although, with ‘that’ thing right in front of us, it does seem a little unfair.”

While saying this, she indicated what she was talking about with her eyes.

‘That’ was putting on a huge exhibition in front of the students passing along the path. A large banner read “Ready for Team Time.” It was an exquisite banner with cat and panda mascots embroidered on it with beads. A green tea fragrance wafted from it. On the table were a Thermos, two stacks of paper cups, a club entry form, and a pen. At the end of it were also a tabletop gas stove and a golden kettle, the type that a sports team might drink from during a match. That shining kettle looked as if it could carry an impressive 10 liters. At the moment, the stove wasn’t turned on.

And the thing that stood out the most was the pumpkin on the opposite side from the gas stove. This utterly massive thing had eyes and a mouth carved into it to turn it into a Halloween decoration. Did Halloween take place in April?

In the center of the table were two girls. Both of them wore only aprons over their school uniforms. Even though that was the case, they were so enthusiastic that it seemed like the cold hadn’t even reached them. Sandwiched in-between the pumpkin and gas stove, they vigorously waved their arms around.

“Come and have a bite. Cookies you’ll be sure to love! Great, here you go!”

“The thing is, we put a mysterious concoction inside these cookies. Now you’ve fallen into our trap. You want to join the club now. See, you really want to join. You want to join so badly that you can’t stand it anymore. The registration sheet is right over here.

“Yes, this is that kind of cookie. I’d be bad if it got stuck in your throat, so drink some of this here green tea.”

As she said this, she picked up the Thermos and poured the tea into a paper cup.

“Hey you, you over there. You look like the type who loves cookies!”

“Ah, you’re right! He does have a face perfectly suited towards eating cookies. Now eat up. It doesn’t matter why, just eat it!”

Somehow I felt like I’d seen those two before. What was is, I wonder. I don’t think I’ve seen their faces before.

It seemed like they had a lot of cookies prepared. They were giving them out one after another. I didn’t know whether or not their plan was actually succeeding in getting people to sign up, but they were certainly getting a lot of students to stop.

“The Confectionery Research Society, huh?”

“Yes, you can’t help but look over there, completely forgetting about the Classics Club.”

Using food to lure the new students in, what a dastardly pair. At any rate, those who would let their hearts be stolen over something like a cookie were probably frivolous people anyways. They wouldn’t be good additions to the Classics Club. As I was playing around in my head with my baseless accusations and “we are the chosen few” rhetoric, I noticed Chitanda seemed a bit strange next to me. She was staring intently at the busy Confectionery Research Society table without so much as twitching.

No way. I called to her with fear in my voice.

“Chitanda?”

“Huh… oh, what is it?”

The startled Chitanda turned towards me, and I asked her a question.

“Is it possible…”

“Yes?”

“…you want a cookie?”

Chitanda thought a bit and then replied with an earnest expression.

“If I said no, I would be lying.”

“It’s fine if you go and get one.”

“Thank you very much. No, I can’t. We have other priorities.”

One again, she turned her head to stare at the Confectionery Research Society.

“Isn’t there something strange going on over there?”

Caught in her trap, I ended up looking once more myself. The energetic duo. The Thermos, paper cups, and club entry sheet. The tabletop gas stove, pumpkin, and cookies.

…Well I couldn’t deny that there were certainly strange things going on with their choices in presentation. The strangest thing there was probably how lively the two were.

Other than those, maybe there were one or two more weird aspects.

“I guess you’re right. It is odd.”

I was careless to let that slip out. Chitanda suddenly turned towards me. Because the table was so small, when she did, I could feel her so close to me that I instantly jumped back without thinking.

“Really? Which parts are odd?”

“What do you mean ‘which parts’? You said it didn’t you? It just is.”

Or perhaps she was playing some sort of high-level intellectual game with me, saying that “it’s strange, in a way that only the Confectionery Research Club can be.”<ref>In Japanese, the word for strange, <i>okashii</i>, sounds almost identical to a word meaning confections, <i>okashi</i>.</ref>

Chitanda casted a sidelong glance at the commotion surrounding the cookie distribution, and then whispered something in response.

“I know, but the thing is ever since a while back I can’t help but feel like something strange is going on. I have these thoughts, and it’s so frustrating.”

“Oh, that’s probably just …”

“Please wait!”

I stopped speaking and swallowed the words before they came out.

“Please don’t tell me yet. I’m still trying to figure out the answer. Yes, I feel like I understand it somewhat.”

I’ve been asked plenty of times to give an answer, but I have never been told to not give one before. While I was considering how rare this was, I stared at the side of Chitanda’s close face as she in turn stared at the Confectionery Research Society.

At last, she looked resolute.

“It’s the pumpkin. I have a feeling that pumpkin is off.”

The orange pumpkin had two triangular eyes and a jagged mouth cut into it. No matter how you looked at it, it was your standard run-of-the-mill Jack O’Lantern, but I could understood why it attracted one’s eyes to such an extent.

Chitanda, however, pursued a different line of thought.

“Goods along those lines aren’t authorized in Japan… No, that’s wrong. That’s just a normal variety of pumpkin seed.”

“Is that so?”

“Pumpkins are grown in the fall, but I guess if they were stored properly, it wouldn’t be strange that they didn’t rot.”

“I see.”

“They aren’t being widely sold as a commercial crop yet. I don’t think there are any farming families growing them in Kamiyama City.”

“I’m shocked.”

“But you can buy them normally at the supermarket. Is it domestically-produced? Or perhaps it’s an imported variety.”

“Why are you looking at it from an agricultural perspective!?”

That part wasn’t the problem. As she continued to miss the point so splendidly every time, I began to feel like remaining silent was an evil deed in itself.

Chitanda whispered a couple more things to herself, but finally let out a small sigh.

“I guess everything up until now was wrong. I have no idea. I give up. Why am I so curious about that pumpkin?”

She became bashful, as if apologizing for her previous obstinacy.

“I’m curious.”

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