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Hyouka Volume 4: The Doll That Took A Detour
Chapter 5: The Handmade Chocolate Incident
Subchapter 2
…At this time I recalled that event from last year.
Thinking about how I was last year, I feel I was more callous back then. But at the time it couldn’t really be helped with how estranged Ibara and I were.
After graduating from Kaburaya Middle School, the three of us all safely enrolled in Kamiyama High School. And now, I wonder how it is that we all wound up joining the same club. It’s understandable with Satoshi and I since we’re friends, and Ibara still seems to like Satoshi, but the three of us aren’t the kind of trio that are such good friends that we’d accompany each other to the bathroom. It’s probably what someone would poetically call a twist of fate that we all joined the Classics Club.
Though we only talk about club activities in this Classics Club, going through with just three people isn’t going to work. The Classics Club had borrowed the Geology Lecture Room as our club room. There are four members. The last person is the hardest to please.
That hard to please person raised her voice, breaking my peaceful recollections of the past.
“Eh, what did you mean by that? I’m curious!”
Turning my head towards her, the first thing that caught my eye was her long black hair. I couldn’t see her face as she had her back to me, but I could guess the expression she was wearing without needing to see it. Whenever she says the words “I’m curious”, her big eyes widen and her cheeks flush a little too, betraying her atmosphere as a ‘Perfect Japanese Woman’. She is the only daughter of the Chitanda family of wealthy farmers — Chitanda Eru. Thanks to her all-encompassing curiosity, the Classics Club functions as a club where events are never dull. As someone who prefers dullness, this has caused me a lot of trouble.
A bit ago, Chitanda was face-to-face in conversation with Ibara in the middle of the classroom. I took no account of my surroundings and turned the page of my paperback, but since the volume of their conversation was that of normal speech, it was impossible for me not to overhear them unless I distracted myself. And so, despite having no intention of eavesdropping, I heard Ibara’s next reply.
“So you see, for four thousand years chocolate had always been a ‘drink’. It wasn’t because the people of South America lacked ideas, there was just no other practical way to do it.”
Those two had been talking about chocolates for some time. Or rather, it was more like Ibara was closely lecturing Chitanda. It’s her fault that I was reminded of last year’s Valentine’s Day. Last year… Yes, it was almost a year ago. It’s now the beginning of February, 2001 AD. The temperature of the school-provided stove, for the sake of saving energy, does not rise above 16°C [60°F]. While I’m a fan of saving energy, I dislike the cold.
Seemingly brushing aside the cold air, Ibara’s way of speaking, compared to earlier, was steadily getting fired up.
“It seems to have taken some time after the Spanish Conquistadors brought it back to Europe for it to spread as a luxury good. It also seems to be the case that when you grind the cocoa beans, the fat content is more than 50% as a liquid, or so I’ve heard. Although they already had coffee at the time, they didn’t want to drink such a thing.”
“I don’t handle caffeine well, so I can’t drink coffee.”
After a short pause, Chitanda said,
“Even if at least half of it is oil, then doesn’t that seem to be a good thing?”
Well, that’s why mayonnaise seems like you can drink it.
“Actually, it seems to be a bad thing because it’s difficult to digest it.”
“It seems as though that was very common.”
“Adding sugar to it became really widespread. Because Great Britain is above drinking coffee, it seems that they couldn’t handle it. Because of the high caloric content it was also used for medicinal purposes. I get the feeling it was an upper class drink.
“It was used as medicine?”
“Yeah. It was even used as an aphrodisiac.”
I saw Chitanda tilt her head to the side.
“Eh? How is that spelled?”
Ibara began to answer the question but froze, and the conversation stopped for a moment. I lifted my eyes above my paperback to look over at Ibara. Her cheeks were clearly red. She was having a difficult time trying to answer the question without thinking about it.
“Moyoosu*, then…” [note: Aphrodisiac in Japanese is 催淫薬, the first kanji in its verb form is moyoosu]
“Moyoosu, then?”
“Anyways!”
Ibara hastily steered the conversation back to the previous topic. Welling up in flustered laughter, she somehow managed to stifle her smile.
“Such drinks like chocolate were somehow made available to be eaten instead. It wasn’t enough to just squeeze the oil out, so I heard they had to wait for a method of adding an alkali to be developed, which was needed to break down the oil and neutralize the acidity.”
However, this technical theory seemed to have fully piqued Chitanda’s interest. Ibara’s attempt to change the subject was successful.
“Alkali? I haven’t heard much about it being added to food…Yes, only to Chinese noodles.”
Ibara, looking somewhat relieved, said,
“Furthermore, because the gritty texture of the beans is unappealing, they have to be carefully ground even further. The size of the grain is… Chi-chan, what do you think?”
The grain diameter of chocolate? That’s not a subject I’ve ever given any thought. The paperback in my hand was unexpectedly boring, so I turned my attention to Ibara’s question. But this was a conversation I couldn’t follow at all.
As for Chitanda, she made a small “hmm” and answered,
“Let me see. I’ve only heard this from the people who sell wheat at my house, but the size for wheat flour seems to be about forty to fifty micrometers. Are the ones for chocolate about that small as well?”
Ibara, looking as proud of herself as a peacock while taking all the credit, shook her head.
“For those, I heard the size is twenty micrometers!”
“…That’s amazing.”
Is that figure really surprising? What’s surprising is that I can’t accept that at all even though I have no subject to compare it to. How different is twenty micrometers from fifty micrometers?
…Ah, is it because the two and the five are different?
Chitanda nodded many times in admiration.
“Using a mortar and pestle for that size would be hard, right?”
“It’s like trying to make ice cream when you don’t have an ice cream machine. Making chocolate with cocoa beans at home is impossible.”
“That’s a shame. But Fukube-san wants chocolate made from cocoa beans, right?”
At those words, Ibara gave a small sigh.
“I didn’t know last year that making chocolate would be so hard…. But, Fuku-chan is still the same as back then. So, it’s fine.”
“It’s fine, you say…”
At the moment Chitanda asked again, Ibara smiled. No, it wasn’t something refreshing like that. If I were to make an exaggerated representation of her, then I would say, “her trembling voice echoed with a simmer, and I couldn’t stop the cold sweat from forming on my back. The joy oozing out of her mouth was distorted with a bitter enthusiasm.” Her clenched fist shot obliquely into my line of sight. She declared,
“I’m gonna make the best homemade chocolate! I’ll lock Fuku-chan up and force him to listen to all of the data I’ve gathered, and if he still complains…I’ll just shove it into his mouth!”
…Never provoke a woman’s resentment. If generalizing all women is a problem, then at least Ibara’s resentment shouldn’t be provoked. Although her protest was exaggerated, I wouldn’t call it a joke either. I can’t help feeling sorry for Satoshi; this all happened because of his silly joke about the chocolate last year. But it’s his own fault anyways.
Even Chitanda seemed to have been taken aback by Ibara’s intensity, and attempted to placate her with soothing hand motions. Returning the conversation to the original topic, Chitanda asked,
“If-If that’s the case, what are you going to make? There are a lot of candies that use chocolate…”
Looking as if she’d already decided, Ibara quickly replied,
“I plan on making one with a heart-shaped mold.”
“Eh, but that’s-”
“I know it’s pretty unoriginal. But last year’s chocolate wasn’t good enough. I’m gonna make sure he can’t refuse them this time.”
And just when they’d finally gotten to the main topic, Ibara suddenly leaned forward. Chitanda followed suit, the two so close it looked like they were about to touch foreheads.
“So, I want to make the best chocolate. I’ll need things from a Western-style confectionery… Chi-chan do you know of a shop that would sell that kind of stuff?”
Inexplicably lowering her voice, Chitanda replied,
“Let’s see…Near the wholesale market is a shop that stocks ingredients for professionals, if you want to try there.”
Ibara, too, whispered,
“Can you take me there?”
“Sure. How about this Sunday?”
“Then that’s decided… Keep it a secret from Fuku-chan.”
“Of course.”
Between them, the girls exchanged a solemn promise.
I don’t really care, since I’m a guy, but then again, I am Satoshi’s friend… If she did trust me, then I shouldn’t feel bad for Satoshi, but if I was forced to pick, then I would say that things like this can’t be quantified. While thinking of that just now, Ibara noticed my presence and called out to me.
“Ah, Oreki.”
“…Yeah?”
Just then, I too answered in a voice that Ibara seemingly noticed. Without any regard for my concern, Ibara gave a rare tender smile.
“Don’t you say anything either, okay?”
“Sure.”
“…You better be sure.”
You don’t need to tell me. So I’d appreciate it if you’d stop looking at me like that.
The next day after school, Ibara and Chitanda were having another discussion about chocolates in the Geology Lecture Room. Afraid of what those two were planning, I decided to go home early.
Aligning the front of my trench coat with the February wind, I joined the crowd of people leaving school. Come to think of it, last year, meaning back when I was a middle school student, I would leave school early to go home every day after classes ended. My day-to-day life had no purpose. And even though I’d go home early, I had nothing to do there either. In fact, if I try and remember how I spent my time after school back then, nothing comes to mind. However, if it’s only that my everyday life has no purpose, then there’s been no change between this year and the last.
Following along with the flow of people to the main street, I left the bridge’s narrow sidewalk and entered the shopping district. At the best of times the winter sunlight is weak, but come evening it’s completely unreliable. Before I knew it, the surrounding crowd had grown thin. That’s not to say it was necessarily the fault of the cold, there just weren’t many people out. All the same, there were only cars constantly passing by.
A dry goods store. A boutique. I proceeded onto the tiled sidewalk beside the barber shop. The blowing wind was mixed with the sounds of electronics. Next to the barber shop was an arcade. Although I’d only planned on passing through, I suddenly noticed something. There were several bikes lined up in front of the store, one of which looked familiar. The mountain bike with the left handlebar grip shoddily repaired with a rag definitely belonged to Satoshi .
I looked at my watch. Although I wasn’t particularly inclined to play, there was no reason to be in any hurry either. If that’s the case, then according to my motto “If I don’t have to do it, I won’t. If I have to do it, I’ll do it quickly,” there is only one thing I should do… Which is to go home.
The glass doors in front of me opened. The one who came out was Satoshi. No matter how you look at it, it looked as if he had come out of the store. With a facial expression that always has a smile, he moved towards me and raised his hand.
“Hey.”
“Yo.”
Giving my expression a cursory glance, Satoshi said,
“Hmm, you don’t seem to be in a hurry.”
Without waiting for my reply, he pointed back at the arcade with his thumb.
“You’ve got good timing, coming this way just now. It’s been a while, so how about a game? I’ve developed a deadly Satoshi Special Attack, and playing against a CPU just isn’t fun.”
A multiplayer-game, huh? I let out a small yawn.
“I haven’t done this in a while.”
Satoshi surveyed the room.
“Same here. But Houtarou, according to a report by the Central Education Council, or the Chukyoshin for short, it seems that the only thing kids do these days is play games. If that’s the case, then a kid not liking or playing games is an educational problem.”
Shrugging at that joke, I made my way towards the arcade. I had no reason to refuse anyways.
After a long time of absence from being inside the arcade, the lightning was bright enough that I wondered if being too bright had been a part of their image strategy. I remembered the air had previously smelled of tobacco, but now it was as if that had never been the case. But on the other hand, it’s the same with the human figures. A small arcade cabinet had been relocated to the corner of the store. An unfamiliar cabinet dominated the rest.
It has been a while, I thought, thinking back to the last time I’d been here. I’d rarely come to the arcade by myself. I’d usually tagged along with Satoshi. Last year…no, the year before that, we often came here to play.
I didn’t recognize any of the games showing on the monitors. Understandable, as it had been two years. Strangers were giving me looks of skepticism while Satoshi strolled to the back of the store. He stopped in front of a machine and turned to me.
“How about it? You probably remember this one.”
The game Satoshi chose was a familiar one. That is to say, it was a game I had often played with Satoshi. There were two black, cockpit-type units placed side by side. A robot-battle simulator. Over the past two years I had wondered if this was still here. Satoshi opened his arms as he raised his voice.
“Bursting with ammunition, flying laser beams! This is an idiot’s romance, so it’s not like I can invite Mayaka.”
“It’s not like she’d come even if you invited her to play some other game. Okay, let me see if I can still remember the controls.”
“What? You’ll remember it immediately. Go easy on me.”
You didn’t have to mention that. Satoshi slipped his small body into the cockpit. A moment later, I heard the spirited techno music begin to play from the inside.
Quickly putting down my shoulder bag and taking off my trench coat, I slipped into the other cockpit. I put a 100 yen coin into the coin slot and challenged Satoshi to a match. Satoshi chose the same robot he used to main two years ago, one that is agility-oriented and specializes in aerial combat. Slender in form, a cannon is built into its right arm and beam cannons protrude from its body. I obediently chose the robot that uses the battleship “huge gun principle”* like I used to. Massive in size with a low center of gravity, it holds an unrifled gun in its left hand and carries laser cannons on both shoulders. [note: A principle used from 1906 until 1945 in the construction and design of battleships wherein the battleship’s main gun’s size is proportionate to its power, making it advantageous in battle. Some examples are the British HMS Rodney (29), the Japanese aircraft carrier Akagi, and the Japanese battleship Nagato.]
The two robots appeared on the monitors. A computer automatically chose the battlefield. The one it selected was the deck of an aircraft carrier. According to my weak memory, the lack of obstacles on this level is disadvantageous to Satoshi’s agility-oriented robot. Well, it’s not like a two-year handicap would hold him back.
“Get Ready,” a synthesized voice announced. The interface had only two sticks and four buttons. “Go.”
The game had three rounds. In the first round, paying attention to Satoshi, I spent about half the time limit using my special skills. With ten seconds left of the remaining time, I decided to fire my laser cannons, hitting Satoshi’s robot as he wandered into my line of fire. From beside me I heard him grumble in a strange voice. Even though there were no other customers around, he was still embarrassing me. The thin armor of Satoshi’s robot easily flew overboard.
Before the start of the second round, looking as though he was in a hurry to get out, Satoshi instead faced my cockpit.
“Do you think you can do it?”
“Yeah, I remembered most of it. Let’s start.”
“Ok, I won’t go easy on you.”
Satoshi slipped into his seat at the same time as the music started to play. At that moment, Satoshi’s robot disappeared from my line of fire. He was really serious this time. At once, I moved my robot. Up until that moment, a blue explosive flame drew out from my weapon. I turned my machine to search for Satoshi’s. I found his figure almost directly behind me. At the instant I pulled the trigger, he fired the gun on his right hand. But before it hit him, he ran away from my field of view. His movement speed was incomparable with my machine’s.
That’s right. While remembering about this feeling, I somehow performed an evasive maneuver. Even though I called it an ‘evasive maneuver,’ all I was really doing was running earnestly. Satoshi’s robot was flying through the air. Automatic machine gun bullets rained down like air strikes. But it was alright if only a little bit hit me. Mine had thicker armor.
When I was a junior high student, there were only two possible outcomes to this game: After the start of the game, my robot’s large fire power would immediately destroy his robot, or he would run circles around my robot using his robot’s mobility until time ran out. The winner would often be Satoshi, with him laughing as he said “You were trying to finish the game too early, Houtarou.”
At that moment, I saw the enemy in front of me in the sky. At this rate, with the situation getting worse, I carelessly aimed my lasers at him. But the enemy easily avoided it by diving. He faced me while I was in a shooting position, unable to move. Satoshi shot his beam gun at me at maximum power. I was helplessly hit. Eventually, from there, he seized the initiative and continuously shot me with his gun to finish the game.
Third round.
At the same time as the voice shouted “Go,” I ran forward to reduce the distance between us. The unguarded Satoshi, lacking a plan, retreated backwards. If I opened fire on him in successive rounds with my unrifled gun, sooner or later, at least one of them would hit him. It shouldn’t be hard to damage the thin armor of Satoshi’s robot.
But Satoshi’s a tough guy. In case he went against my expectations, that is to concentrate on avoiding the bullets for some time, then I’d have to hold my ground. He fired the beam gun. Our distance was too close so I couldn’t react on time. It hit me, and my robot toppled over.
Satoshi shot all of his equipped firearms one after the other as I repeatedly tried to get up. An offensive play. I could jump at him through the barrage and make a dash for it, or I could endure it with my armor.
“Hmm…?”
As I was busy controlling the stick, I suddenly felt uncomfortable. When I played against the previous Satoshi, was it ever like this?
No, this was clearly different.
Satoshi’s playing style wasn’t like this. He would usually try to destroy my armor with his artillery or survive until there was a fraction of time left.
I bombarded him with smooth-bore bullets and he deftly avoided them. At that moment, Satoshi suddenly decreased our distance in one go, the slender form slowly approaching the monitor.
However, he was coming at me in a straight line, which made a good target for my laser. I pulled the trigger. At that moment, I remembered.
Yes, Satoshi’s playing style was definitely “Supreme Victory.” In order to win by any means possible, whenever he’d be at a disadvantage, he’d constantly run away and wait for an opportunity. If he could win by running out of time, he’d run away. But when the time to attack came, he thoroughly attacked. That’s not all; he’d sometimes take advantage of glitches and system failures. Satoshi wanted to win at at all costs. And, for whatever reason, he’d pick fights with me when he lost, acting bitter and not even trying to hide his irritation. He was also a really strong sore loser. Aside from the arcade, Satoshi’s obsession was, well, if I were to finish that sentence, let’s just say it was something unpleasant.
What was with this assault? … Was it a trap?
I noticed it too late. I pulled the trigger. My robot got into the shooting position. At that point, Satoshi could end the game by suddenly stopping, flying into the air and shooting the beam at me.
But he didn’t. He moved closer and a slender light saber extended from his right hand. A melee attack? It was a reckless move; he closed the distance and slashed at me.
Just before the slash connected, my laser hit him point blank. Satoshi’s robot somersaulted through the air as it was blown away.
Final score, 2-1. I won.
When the words “You Win” wouldn’t disappear from the screen, I suddenly looked at Satoshi. I wondered what kind of expression he would have after his anticlimactic loss, but he was his usual smiling self. He rattled on excitingly.
“Wow, that was a really amazing match! Houtarou, has it seriously been two years? That was some brilliant stick-handling. I can say that once I remember how to swim or to ride a bicycle, I never forget it, but I should adopt your robot operational technique too!”
Even if he’s being talkative, that’s really how Satoshi is. Even when his robot has not one scratch. Well, although I shouldn’t be happy about winning, I grinned and replied,
“I haven’t done this in a while so I’m back to being a beginner. I was just lucky.”
As the winner, I was given the chance to fight against a computer. Satoshi pointed to the monitor. I interpreted it as having played properly and losing properly.
He cast a sidelong glance at the game over screen as he left the cockpit, handing over a canned coffee in front of me. From a half-rising position, Satoshi looked up at me, lifted his hand and said,
“I present to you your prize.”
If I’m going to receive that canned coffee, it better be hot black coffee. Taking it without hesitation, I pulled the pull tab as I asked him,
“What’s wrong? You’re feeling very generous today huh?”
“It’s because I forced you to go along with me, so I thought I should compensate you for it as well.”
“Did you really care about winning?”
“Of course not!”
Although the coffee’s warmth was restricted to the can, I’m actually not that good with hot things. Trying to make my coffee last, I slowly sipped at it while I leaned against the frame of a nearby machine.
It wasn’t as if Satoshi’s behavior was unusual for him. He’s a naturally cheery person. But that differs from the ‘past Satoshi’ of my memories. He lost the game. That’s the part that doesn’t match up.
“Satoshi, at the end of the third round.”
“Hmm? Ah, I’ve gotten pretty good at it, huh?”
“Why didn’t you fly? You could have sunk me with an aerial shot. But instead, you went with a melee attack.”
Satoshi shrugged in a joking manner.
“If I’m taking out a giant robot, then using hand to hand combat is the most heroic way. Taking you out with a slash attack would have felt pretty awesome. Well, it would have been cool if you’d gotten hit by a counter attack from my main gun, but I’m happy with the results.”
He said it nonchalantly. If I were to believe that, rather than a foolish outcome… then that means he meant to lose on purpose just for the sake of having fun.
That makes Satoshi the loser. A false man of the world who instinctively pursues his enjoyment makes him a really sore loser. If that’s the Satoshi I know, then that’s not weird at all.
But if that was the case, what was that moment that I remembered?
“Okay, why don’t I treat you to the Satoshi Special 2? I’ll show you the legendary yakuman*, “Ipinraoyue!” [note: Yakuman is a value for limit hands which are hard to get; ipinraoyue is a yakuman seen only in Japanese mahjong]
I continued sipping my coffee while next to me, Satoshi inserted a coin into the mahjong game. A forcibly imprinted view of Satoshi ran through my mind, the two images coming one after the other.
Satoshi hitting the console after he loses.
Satoshi giving coffee to the winner.