Adachi and Shimamura (Light Novel) Vol. 1 Read online

  Table of Contents

  Color Inserts

  Table of Contents Page

  Title Page

  Copyrights and Credits

  Chapter 1: Ping-Pong in Our Uniforms

  Chapter 2: Fishing for the Future

  Chapter 3: Adachi, Questioning

  Chapter 4: The Isosceles Triangle

  Chapter 5: Girls’ Day Out

  Afterword

  Newsletter

  Chapter 1:

  Ping-Pong in Our Uniforms

  F ROM THE MOMENT Adachi first suggested that we play ping-pong, a hot new fad was born—under the radar, of course, since we were skipping class. The school ping-pong equipment had been left to gather dust on the second floor of the gym, and because we couldn’t risk opening the window, the air was stuffy.

  Along the edge of the loft overlooking the gym’s ground floor ran a green net, a relic from the days when this school had an official ping-pong club. The net’s purpose was to ensure that any stray balls remained within the bounds of the second floor. Normally, the two of us sat right against it and whiled away the time chatting in hushed tones. By this point, however, I was getting bored of talking, so I gratefully took Adachi up on the suggestion.

  October was almost over, and we’d transitioned to our winter uniforms, though long sleeves were frankly the last thing I wanted to wear in this heat.

  Fortunately, the warm, sunny weather meant that gym classes were held outside on the athletic field, and that meant Adachi and I could have the gym to ourselves. Once we confirmed that we were alone in the building, we got to work setting up the ping-pong table.

  “Were you in any clubs in junior high?” Adachi asked as she struggled to affix the net to the table. We’d been skipping class together for about a month or so, but I guess the topic of school clubs had never come up before.

  “I was on the basketball team, actually. I was really passionate about it, too. I always stayed late to run drills.”

  “Huh. I didn’t peg you as a basketball player,” she mused, probably because I didn’t seem all that tall compared to her. “Should we play that instead?”

  “A noob like you wouldn’t be much of a challenge.” But I knew the offer wasn’t serious.

  “Down, tiger!” she laughed.

  Realistically, a basketball’s low thud made way too much noise; the teachers

  would be onto us in seconds flat. Plus, we were still in uniform. In a game that required lots of jumping, we’d both inevitably be distracted by the physics of our skirts. Ping-pong, on the other hand, wasn’t quite so strenuous. It was the perfect little game to play up here, away from the rest of the world.

  Adachi and I were first-years in high school, and both of us were truant to an extent. We were by no means old friends or anything like that; on the contrary, we’d first met right there on that campus, and our friendship was relatively new. By this point, I knew a fair amount about her, but there was a lot I still didn’t know…probably because I didn’t need to know it.

  When it came to her appearance, Adachi typically played it safe. Her hair was on the longer side, with a smattering of bleached streaks that didn’t draw too much attention. Her physique was slender, with few curves to speak of, and her shoulders were so slumped that I half-wondered if she even had shoulders. With her sharp eyes and thin lips, she had a classic case of “resting bitch face,” but actually she was pretty laid-back, or easygoing, or however you want to put it.

  No matter how angry she got, she never raised her voice…at least, not that I’d ever seen.

  She often wore a bracelet on her left wrist—an oversized bangle, reminiscent of a single handcuff, that always looked as though it was trying to slip off.

  In contrast to Adachi, my hair was visibly bleached to a tawny copper color, and I put more effort into my makeup. Girls like me got slapped with the

  “delinquent” label over one tiny little piercing, so naturally, the teachers preferred Adachi by a wide margin. Probably because she was a pretty girl who didn’t talk back.

  Make no mistake, however—Adachi was easily three times the delinquent I was. One look at her attendance record would prove that. But what pissed me off was that, even if I were three times better than her, I would never be seen as a “good” student. Yet, somehow, she still managed to get the same grades as me. It was baffling .

  Adachi pulled off her uniform jacket and tied it around her waist. Once we’d set the table up, I followed suit—partially because I didn’t want to rip my jacket, but mostly because the loft was sweltering. Next, I wiped off my makeup, since

  I knew all the sweating would just ruin it anyway. Then, cradling a mottled pink ping-pong ball in my palm, I picked up one of the old, probably moldy paddles with my free hand. When Adachi moved to do the same, I realized for the first time that she was left-handed.

  “When was the last time you played?” I asked as we batted the ball back and forth.

  “Umm…probably sixth grade, in Girl Scouts?”

  Girl Scouts . Now that brought back memories.

  “Oh man, Girl Scouts… Feels like forever ago.” I smiled to myself.

  As a right-handed player, it was pretty easy for me to aim the ball at Adachi’s unguarded right side, so I went for it without the slightest hesitation. In response, Adachi positioned herself firmly dead-center and returned the ball with a skillful backhand drive.

  “Whoa… You’re pretty good.”

  “You think that’s good? Check this out.” As the ball bounced weakly toward her, she switched the paddle to her right hand and smashed it back in my direction.

  “Holy crap!” My eyes widened. Naturally, the ball went flying past the table and bounced off the net behind me.

  And so, we idled away the time playing ping-pong—casual games, for the most part, though we had our moments of intense competition. Meanwhile, the rest of the school sat through third period. What was third period on Mondays again? Math? History? I tried to remember, but most of my brainpower was focused on the game. Once again, something had gotten in the way of me caring about school. Story of my life.

  To be clear, Adachi and I hadn’t randomly decided to start playing hooky together. We started out doing our own separate things—and, frankly, Adachi didn’t come to school that often to begin with.

  In manga, you always see some kid skipping class up on the roof. But, in real life, no school is stupid enough to leave the roof open to students. Even if they

  did, what good would that be? If you tried to take a nap, you’d probably wake up with a gnarly sunburn. That’s why I always chose the gym loft—a quiet, remote part of the school, tucked away from sunlight and prying eyes. And, one day, Adachi made the same choice I did.

  It was right at the start of second semester. When I walked in, Adachi was lounging with her shoes and socks off, probably due to the heat. She must’ve thought I was a teacher at first, because she bolted upright when she saw me, her cute little toes all splayed out. I remember it vividly to this day.

  After that, we started hanging out more and more frequently. We didn’t schedule it, though. Every now and then, I’d get the feeling she was up in the loft, so I’d come by, and voil à, she’d be there.

  But Adachi rarely stuck around until the end of the day, so after school, I’d usually hang out with my other two friends. Unlike me, however, those friends of mine were “good kids” through and through. Not only did they faithfully attend class, they copied down notes like it was their job.

  Two good kids, two bad kids. On one hand, it felt nice and symmetrical, but on the other hand, it kinda seemed like I couldn’t pick a side… That was the sort of thi
ng I idly contemplated as the ping-pong ball bounced leisurely back and forth.

  Still, more than anything, I was comfortable. This was my peaceful escape from the misery of reality.

  ***

  “All right, that’s it. It’s too hot !” Adachi complained, unbuttoning her dress shirt’s top button.

  I dropped my paddle onto the ping-pong table and walked away. “Yeah, I’m done.”

  My shirt was damp with sweat, and it clung to my skin. I flapped my sleeve cuff, trying desperately to generate airflow. Then I realized I still held the ping-pong ball. I thought about tossing it from here onto the table, but it was too late. I had a feeling the ball would just bounce off, so I decided against it.

  The janitors never came up here, and a layer of dust covered the floor like a

  wax coating. Obviously, neither of us wanted to sit directly onto the dust, so we used the green net as a tarp and sat on that instead.

  “I wish there was a breeze,” Adachi muttered, her face flushed from the heat.

  Same , I thought, and glared up at the window. I knew that, if we opened it, someone was bound to notice. Then they’d come up here to close it, and we’d be busted.

  “Should we go outside? It’s almost lunch anyway.”

  Adachi had rolled up her sleeves and untucked her shirt. I personally wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing my uniform that sloppily. It was kind of off-putting to look at, even if we were technically in private. Next thing you know, she’ll be flapping her skirt—yep, there she goes.

  “Have you no shame? You’re ruining the school’s, uhh…what’s it called…”

  “Dignity?”

  “Yeah, that! Our dignity will never recover!”

  “So, what should we do for lunch?” she asked, shooting a glance at me.

  Fine, ignore me, I guess.

  Logically, it was easier for me to go out and get food for us both, since all it would take for me to look presentable would be to put on my jacket. Adachi, on the other hand, would have to tuck her shirt in, button it, roll her sleeves down, and put her jacket on. And, if she could see the state her hair was in, she’d probably want to brush it.

  “Let me guess—you want me to fetch you something. Fine, fine.”

  “I’ll go next time.”

  “Yeah, right. That’s what you said last time.” And the time before that, and the time before that, and the time before that, and the time before that.

  But Adachi simply laughed. “Just a Danish and some water, pretty please.”

  “All right. If they’re sold out, I’ll grab you whatever.”

  Adachi only ever drank mineral water. Maybe that’s why she has such clear skin. I’m so jealous… If she got a cut, I bet she’d bleed water, too.

  “Are you going to class after lunch?”

  “Probably. What about you? Going home?” I asked, uncrossing my arms and resting my hands on the floor.

  “Hmm…well, I’m definitely not going to class,” she replied nonchalantly.

  I’d never actually asked her why she skipped class so often, nor had she ever asked me. We were just two people hanging out, trying to alleviate our boredom with some ping-pong.

  I held the ping-pong ball in my palm and gave it a hard flick with my other hand. It bounced across the loft with an airy tap, tap, tap until it hit the opposite wall and fell still. The sound was reminiscent of light knocking, as though I stood at the door to Adachi’s heart.

  “Ping-pong is pretty fun, huh?” she mused, taking off her indoor shoes. I thought back to the look on her face as we played, her brow furrowed as she focused her full attention on the game. It took a lot of concentration, after all.

  “Yeah, for sure. I think I prefer that sort of one-on-one competition, like, compared to team sports.”

  In my last year of junior high, I’d realized that, as fun as basketball was, I just wasn’t cut out for it. Part of me always itched to test my skill, and my teammates often complained that I hogged the ball too much. In the end, I knew I wasn’t fit to be part of a team.

  “You know, it’s weird. If we were doing this for gym class, I totally wouldn’t want to play.”

  “Yeah, I can relate. I’d be out of there so fast,” Adachi agreed, stretching her arms above her head.

  Her elbow made a popping sound, and she let out a groan. Weird. I guess she has naturally flexible elbows.

  “We have a lot of random stuff in common, huh, Shimamura?”

  As she said my name, I narrowed my eyes, though I doubt Adachi noticed.

  Truth be told, I hated my surname. It reminded me of Shimamura Co., the clothing store. Whenever someone said it, it felt like they were calling me

  Shimamura Co. by extension. If only my name were Shimazaki or something instead.

  As we sat in silence with our legs sprawled, the lunch bell rang, echoing through the otherwise-empty gym. My stomach rumbled in agreement.

  “Well, that was the bell,” Adachi said.

  “Sure was.”

  “See you soon.” She waved goodbye.

  I reluctantly heaved myself to my feet, donned my jacket, and slipped back into my indoor shoes. Once I was sure I had my wallet, I headed for the stairs.

  After a few steps, I glanced back to see Adachi reaching for her bookbag—

  probably to get her cell phone—but it was ever so slightly out of reach, so she gave up. Ugh, relatable.

  “Don’t be such a lazybones, you sloth,” I told her, despite my internal monologue. I heard her stamp her feet in protest, but by that time, I was already halfway down the stairs.

  As for who was listed in her phone’s address book, well, that was one of the many things I didn’t know. I’d never seen Adachi speak to anyone else at our school…probably because she so seldom showed up in the first place. We’ve been hanging out a lot lately—maybe she only comes here to see me. No, that’s stupid.

  I was certain that, if I ever said that out loud, she would never come back to the gym loft.

  ***

  The next day, Adachi once again invited me to play ping-pong; she seemed a bit more eager than she had the day before. Curious, I agreed.

  After our ungodly struggle yesterday, table setup went a lot faster this time around.

  “Is it cool if I serve?”

  “Sure.” Today the ball was orange, not pink.

  “Hyah!” Adachi shouted as she hit the ball. This was no ordinary serve—she struck the ball’s lower half with her paddle at a specific angle, creating a weird curveball effect.

  The ball hit the table and bounced back in her direction, but I didn’t care about its trajectory. I was so baffled by her melodramatic swing that I missed my chance to hit it back.

  “Rrgh,” I murmured in frustration. Then I caught a rare, eye-catching glimpse of childish glee on Adachi’s face.

  “I looked up techniques on the internet last night. But I didn’t have a paddle at home to practice with, so I had to use a rice scoop,” she explained, twirling her paddle in a show of smug self-satisfaction.

  Personally, I was surprised to learn that she cared that much about ping-pong, but I kept this to myself. “That’s not fair! You can’t serve a curveball to a beginner!”

  “Get good, scrub! Hyah!” Striking a weird pose, she served another ball. This time, she must’ve hit it too low, because it bounced backward and hit the wall behind her. She dashed off to retrieve it, then came back scratching her forehead.

  “Truth is, I can only get it to work every one in ten tries,” she explained as she showed me how to hit the curveball.

  “You’ve got to be the only person I know who gets worse with practice.” At this rate, I think I could beat her with my eyes closed.

  On Adachi’s third try, the ball flew off yet again, hitting another table and then the floor. It was her screw-up, but because it fell on my side, I was forced to go retrieve it.

  Just then, I heard a voice from the ground floor of the gym.

  My heart leapt into
my throat as I froze in place. The ball bounced off to a corner. I could hear girls’ voices coming from downstairs. Meanwhile, Adachi had the same reaction I did. She tiptoed around the ping-pong table, and together, we peeked over the edge of the loft to get a view of the ground floor.

  From the looks of it, some girls in our grade were setting up volleyball courts for gym class. I only knew they were in our grade because I spotted my friends, Hino and Nagafuji, carrying the poles and net. If they walked onto the stage and looked up at the second floor, they would see us… My heart wasn’t caught in my throat anymore, but my skin felt as though it was buzzing with static electricity.

  Back when we’d just sat around and talked, it was easy to hide from gym intruders. Because of that, I hadn’t bothered to memorize the full class schedule. With our hands over our mouths, Adachi and I squatted next to each other, wondering in terror whether someone would notice the tiny tap, tap, tap of the runaway ping-pong ball.

  “Oh my god, I’m totally freaking out,” Adachi whispered with a grin on her face.

  Adachi, you bad girl. I elbowed her playfully. “What do we do if someone comes up here?” I asked.

  With her hands still over her mouth, she laughed and looked upward.

  “We could open the window and jump out.”

  “What? This is the second floor! We’ll break our legs!” I protested. I’d never bothered to check what was directly below that window, so the idea scared me.

  But that was my fault for taking a joke suggestion so seriously.

  Adachi nodded pensively to herself. “I see. So, you’re calcium-deficient.”

  “Oh, screw you!”

  Since her comment clearly got to me, though, maybe that was an admission of guilt on my part.

  We pressed our backs to the one wall separating us from the buzz of conversation below. Apparently, the teacher hadn’t showed up yet, so the students were content to stand around. Hino and Nagafuji didn’t know where I went when I skipped class, so they probably had no idea I was in the very same building as them… The thought tickled me.

  As Adachi and I crouched in hiding, it started to feel as though we were doing something bad. I mean, we totally were, obviously. But there was something fun about sharing that secret with Adachi. Was I just drunk on the thrill of breaking the rules, or was there something about her specifically? Deep down, I knew the answer, but I decided not to think about it. Meanwhile, the orange ping-pong ball rolled all the way into the corner and fell still.