This is a Story From a Long Time Ago. ⑤
A tale from the heroine’s perspective
Back when I was a first-year in high school, I was probably so brazen that comparing myself to who I am now would be downright laughable. Things with my dad were rough back then, and we fought almost every night. Looking back, I think that was the time when my personality was at its absolute worst.
For example, if I locked eyes with someone I didn’t like, I’d click my tongue at them. And if a teacher dared to do a surprise bag check, I’d complain endlessly without thinking twice.
Thinking about it now, it was probably because I kept acting like that from the start of high school that I got myself into a position where I couldn’t back down, earning the nickname “Queen” and being called that ever since.
Still, even a so-called Queen was just a first-year high school girl. It was a sensitive age, after all.
Back then, I was in love with a boy. He was a second-year, Sekine-senpai.
…Well, calling it love might be a stretch now that I think about it. The feelings I had for Sekine-senpai back then were probably not quite love.
Senpai was exceptionally talented in the tennis club, with real achievements to his name and a refined, almost androgynous face. What I felt for him was probably more like admiration than love.
But back then, I couldn’t tell the difference between love and admiration…
I was determined to confess my feelings to Sekine-senpai someday.
The day of the school festival in my first year was under a perfectly clear blue sky.
Even though it was getting close to autumn, it was a hot day… and I think because of that, the third-year Class 2, which was selling shaved ice, won the sales competition.
In the hallway, I passed by a group of girls walking together.
They were talking about how, with this weather, the after-party would probably go ahead as planned.
The after-party.
The campfire.
That event, held in the lingering excitement of the festival’s end, often left students who stayed late steeped in the glow of youth.
And the ultimate expression of that youthful spirit was confessing to someone you liked in front of the campfire.
One of the girls I passed was being cheered on by her friends, who were probably encouraging her.
It was obvious she was planning to confess at the campfire.
That’s when a thought hit me.
The campfire. The festive atmosphere.
Maybe, just maybe, I could confess to Sekine-senpai there.
Back then, as the so-called Queen, I had to be careful even with something as simple as a confession. A Queen needed undeniable achievements to keep everyone in line.
If people saw me confess to a guy and get rejected, I’d lose my status in an instant and could no longer reign as a tyrant. I had a gut feeling about that.
But if I could ride the wave of the after-party’s carefree vibe…
Maybe he’d be in the mood to say yes.
And even if I got rejected, the festival’s playful atmosphere would let me save some face, at least.
It was the perfect opportunity, a two-for-one deal.
That’s how I decided to confess to Sekine-senpai at the first-year after-party.
But in the end, I couldn’t go through with that confession as planned.
And it wasn’t just me who couldn’t confess.
…The girl who’d been cheered on by her friends in the hallway also missed her chance.
The cancellation of the after-party was announced over the school’s intercom just after the festival’s closing ceremony, right when everyone was starting to head to the courtyard.
It wasn’t because of sudden rain.
There wasn’t any sign that it would be canceled.
It was just abruptly decided, plain and simple.
Of course, the students unleashed a storm of complaints against the festival committee.
I was no exception, ready to vent my anger at the sloppy festival committee members.
“Hey, Yamamoto!”
The next day, I called out to Yamamoto, who was on the festival committee from our class.
There was another girl from our class on the committee too, but she was a friend, so I didn’t feel like confronting her.
Back then, I probably just wanted to pick on some guy who wasn’t part of my circle and give him a piece of my mind.
“Yesterday! The after-party! Why the hell was it canceled?!”
That’s what I was thinking back then.
From this guy.
From Yamamoto.
If he didn’t give me a decent explanation, I wasn’t going to let it slide.
Yamamoto met my expectations.
Not because he gave me a lousy explanation. No, he was almost too clear, too straightforward.
Yamamoto gave me the answer.
“Oh, I forgot to order the firewood for the campfire. My bad.”
For a moment, my anger fizzled out because of how casually Yamamoto said it.
But as his words sank in, my frustration started boiling up inside.
Come to think of it, I called him out during a break, in a classroom full of other classmates. That was probably why everyone started to dislike Yamamoto, I realize now.
“How do you make such a basic mistake?!”
“I got no excuse. Sorry.”
“This isn’t something you can just apologize for!”
“…Yeah, you’re right. My bad.”
It wasn’t something an apology could fix.
Yet Yamamoto kept apologizing to me.
Back then, his attitude really pissed me off.
But now, looking back…
What could Yamamoto have done to make me forgive him?
…I probably wouldn’t have forgiven him no matter what.
And I think he knew that.
So he kept apologizing, probably just to calm me and the rest of the class down.
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