Crossover Fan Fiction ❯ Dark Sarcasm ❯ Festival ( Chapter 10 )
There could have been hurdles if we’d had a different president for the festival committee. Yukino did a good job delegating, simplifying, and saying no when needed. She did not attempt to make a better festival than ever before. She did not show up late with giggling friends and hand over her authority to someone else because she was “having fun”. She didn’t urge the committee to screw around or ignore deadlines. She was responsible and didn’t shove all the work onto me alone. So all the planning was completed in advance, the booths were funded, rental equipment accounted for in the budget, and the festival preparation was a lot less stress than it could have been.
Yukino gave her opening speech to start the show, and we toured the halls, insuring the booths were being run properly, inside or outside. Parents visited, along with members of the public. A central booth sold tickets to the various items so cash wasn’t floating around, and I found our classroom HAD been turned into a maid café after all. They closed up shop for the play, on the main stage in the gym. Saki had gone for a deliciously traditional maid look in her costume. Yuigahama had doggy ears and a waggy tail emerged from her ruffled skirt. Yukino chatted with Yui for a few minutes so I drank the coffee Saki brought me.
“Thank you, Saki-san. You look very fetching. Did you have fun making all these costumes?” I asked her. She blushed.
“Yes. I modified them from various outfits the girls and I found in several thrift and specialty stores. I had to add panels and skirts to some of them, but they turned out nicely.” I nodded agreement, sipped my coffee. It was black, not bitter, and very slightly sweet but not from sugar, but tasted remarkably good.
“Are these fresh roasted beans?” I asked her. She nodded. I had read about this, fresh beans not being bitter because they didn’t have time to oxidize.
“I have been learning from mom, and it does taste better. It’s just time consuming when you’re only cooking for a family breakfast. For a whole café, fresh roasted makes sense.”
“I like it. I could drink this every morning,” I said, not thinking. She blushed then, darker. Then she scurried away while I was lost in thought. Yukino returned from her discussion with Yuigahama, and we continued our tour of the festival, visiting food booths outside and eventually wending our way back to the main gymnasium for the play. Totsuka and Hayama got a lot of attention from the girls in the school, saying their sappy homoerotic lines, pulled directly from the Little Prince itself, unmodified. It was creepy if you paid any attention. I was just glad it wasn’t me up there. The brief scenes were completed and the sets removed while a series of bands played music. Eventually it was time for Yukino to announce the voting results for best food, best theme, best performance, and highest profit. The last went to the soba noodle booth, since soba are cheap and the service in a cup was very inexpensive. The play got a second place, behind the band from the Light Music Club with their song about staplers. I feel like I missed out on some big events there but I couldn’t see anything amiss so let it go as typical paranoia and lack of sleep.
“So Hachiman… what did you think of being an event manager?” asked Hiratsuka Sensei, smoking outside the rear doors of the gym while she observed the packing up and signing off of forms for returning rental equipment. There was a lot. There were actually two large trucks to haul this away from the loading dock. And two more trucks would be arriving soon, so they were keeping up a fast pace.
“It is hard work. Far too many details, and every one is a potential point of failure. It is a high stress job,” I answered honestly. “Anyone who does this for long will have a heart attack or lose their mind.”
“True. So why do you think every school has one of these events every year?” she asked me, then took a deep drag on her cigarette like it owed her money.
“You’re searching for people who have the skill and thrive on the stress,” I answered without thinking about it. “Someone you can abuse and discard when they inevitably snap.”
“Not just me, Hikigaya. Every employer needs someone like that,” she insisted. I looked at her hard, seeing if she was being sarcastic, but I saw only honesty.
“That is very dark, sensei,” I said after considering my words.
“That is real life.”
I thought about that after I got home, soaking off the smell of cooking oil and bad ventilation, sweat, and the stink of crowds. My clothes would need extra care to get clean. My sister had visited the festival, though I hadn’t seen her there, being super busy. She said she’d gone with a school friend to keep her company and it was okay. I cooked us dinner, something light, and went to bed early, exhausted.