Hyouka:Volume 5 Prologue-1

Prologue-1 "Present: 0km"

It ended up not raining. 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 this, 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 it was nothing more than profitless toil, but I had 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, that 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. This isn’t all that terrible. It’s not like I’m bursting at the seams with the desire to participate, 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 a little 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 in 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.