Who Do You Remember?

Chapter 4: Disproportionate Retribution

For very much not the first time (not even the second), a whisper-match between Keiji and Haruto was occurring in the library.

"What the hell did you do?!"

"Hey, there is absolutely no proof that that was me." Keiji's eyebrows arced up in minor annoyance.

"Who else would rub hot pepper powder on someone's locker handle?!"

"Someone with a vendetta?"

"What did she do, then?"

"Like I said, I have no idea. Zero involvement on my end." This was a blatant lie, and everyone knew it, but he left behind no traces, and therefore there was no way for Keiji to get in any serious trouble for it.

"Keij, it's not good to do that! Her eyes stung for like an hour!"

"She shouldn't have rubbed her eyes, then. I don't need your lecture, anyway. First of all, I didn't do it, and second, if I had been the one to do it, I'd obviously know it's not a 'good' thing to do. I'm not a dumbass."

"Your moral compass is all out of whack."

"You know, in the southern United States—"

"What does this have to do with anything?!"

Keiji didn't even stop talking despite the interruption. "it's the culture to be more like me and less like you. They perpetuate what, in psychology, is often called a 'culture of honor,' wherein every individual is likely to take small actions as slights and do everything they can to protect their reputations. It's actually rather interesting, and it can be traced back to when economies were based mainly on agriculture or herding—"

"Well, you're not in the Southern US, you have never lived in the Southern US— wait, have you?"

"No, dimwit."

"Wait, I knew that, people here remember you from middle school— Ah, frick. My point is, you were born and raised in Japan! Y'know? The place where we're not supposed to rock the boat?"

"Hmm, interesting. I've not looked into my lineage in the slightest. Perhaps I should attend to that. Part of me wonders whether I have any ancestors who lived in the US. It seems that, in general, I was raised with a rather Western viewpoint. My family is much more individualistic as opposed to the common collectivist culture we're surrounded by—"

Haruto felt a bit like he was being forced to take a dose of his own medicine. "Agh! Will you just stay on topic?!" A light shush followed that statement from the library worker. "Sorry." He took a few seconds to compose himself, inhaling deeply through his nose. "Look. The intro— hmm, what's that word?"

"Are you going for introspection?" Keiji was writing something.

"Ooh, yep, I was! The introspection's great, but I still don't know what you think she did to deserve that."

"She's a goddamn liar." The words were whispered so casually, the same as if he'd said, "The sky is blue." He even shrugged. Haruto felt like screaming at the utter lack of clarification. "Don't you have your craft club to get to?"

"Ahh— crap. Were you just trying to waste my time with your rambling?"

Keiji tore a small scrap of paper out of his notebook and slid it toward Haruto. Upon closer inspection, it had his phone number and LINE ID. "Not here. Okay?"

"Why does everything have to be so complicated with you?" In spite of how annoyed he felt, he couldn't help but smile at the fact that he didn't even have to ask for Keiji's contact info. It had been offered freely.