“I’m Hongou Nagisa. Believe it or not, I’m the chemistry club president! Thanks Saya-cchi, I’ll show them around, so please take care of those kids over there.”
Saya-something-senpai with the roster replied “Sure!” and started attending to new first-years.
Led by Hongou-senpai, we headed toward one of the long tables. On the way, Mizusaki asked.
“Senpai, are you called Indy?”
“Just within the chemistry club. An upperclassman started calling me that as a joke.”
Just as “Delchi” doesn’t suit Izuta Shou, the name Hongou Nagisa has no “Indy-ness” to it. I was wondering why she had such a nickname when Mizusaki pointed it out for me.
“But senpai, why Indy?”
“It was ‘indicator,’ which got shortened to Indy. It only makes sense in the chemistry club though.”
Senpai stopped. The top of the black ChemiSurf table was cluttered. Lab equipment like beakers and mortars, and as if someone had a cold, even mouthwash solution and vitamin C powder. And what appeared to be Hongou-senpai’s pencil case. How could I deduce it was hers? Because it was absurdly decorated with countless pin badges and a mountain of straps.
While taking our seats, Mizusaki asked me.
“What does ‘indicator’ mean?”
“Display device, isn’t it? ‘Indicate’ has the same etymology as ‘index’ of the index finger, meaning to point out. I think it refers to the part of machinery that displays numerical values by pointing to graduations.”
“I see, display device…”
But “display device” didn’t make sense. Perhaps she got that nickname because her expressions change frequently and are easy to read?
“Now then, let me show you something interesting right away for showing interest in the chemistry club.”
Hongou-senpai pulled a plastic bottle of barley tea from a bag on the floor. Smiling broadly, she placed it on the table with exaggeratedly careful movements.
“Here we have tea.”
“Is this a magic trick?”
“That’s right, Mizucchi. If you can figure out the trick, I’ll give you something nice!”
Winking and speaking seductively, Hongou-senpai gestured toward the barley tea.
“Now then, I shall make this tea disappear.”
Oh. A battle of wits, is it? Sounds quite interesting.
Mizusaki and I nodded and looked at the plastic bottle. Ordinary barley tea sold at convenience stores. Senpai picked up the plastic bottle with magician-like movements.
“Here we go… three, two, one, go!”
She suddenly shook the plastic bottle as if throwing it, then placed it down in front of us with a thud.
The contents of the plastic bottle had instantly changed to clear, colorless water.
“Ta-da! The tea has disappeared!”
After staring at the plastic bottle for a while, Mizusaki considerately clapped his hands. I followed so as not to be rude. For some reason, Mikage was attempting to open a mathematics magazine. She must have tremendous courage to do that in front of senpai, but apparently she had no interest whatsoever.
“So? Did you figure out the trick?”
As senpai asked, Mizusaki prompted me with his eyes. Leave the explanation to me, that meant.
The trick is clear. Staking the pride of a former chemistry club member, I boldly pointed it out.
“What was in that plastic bottle wasn’t barley tea to begin with.”
Hongou-senpai widened her eyes as if surprised.
“Oh, what makes you think so?”
“Senpai fairly left the materials on the table for us. What looked like barley tea was actually iodine-containing mouthwash solution thinly dissolved in water.”
I pointed to the mouthwash solution container on the table. It’s a dark brown liquid with iodine dissolved as povidone-iodine, but if you dilute this it would become the color of barley tea in a plastic bottle.
“When iodine is reduced, it becomes colorless iodide ions. As a reducing agent, powdered vitamin C must have been attached to the inside of the cap with tape or something. By shaking the plastic bottle vigorously, the vitamin C dissolved in the water, and through an oxidation-reduction reaction, the solution became colorless and transparent.”
Vitamin C powder was also sitting on the desk. If she really wanted to show it as a magic trick, she would have hidden both the mouthwash and the vitamin C. This must have been a test of our level.
Or perhaps Hongou-senpai had simply been careless.
“Whoa, amazing, absolutely correct!”
Hongou-senpai gave us a big round of applause with a beaming smile.
“How do you know so much? Did you do chemistry in middle school too?”
“Huh? Didn’t I mention it? Both Delta and I were in the chemistry club in middle school.”
“Oh really! I see now. No wonder you’re so knowledgeable.”
Laughing “ahaha,” senpai poured the mixed solution of mouthwash and vitamin C down the sink.
“By the way, senpai, what’s this ‘nice thing’ you’re going to give us?”
Mizusaki turned a vulgar, expectant gaze toward her. Senpai stuck out the tip of her tongue with a “tehe.”
“I honestly didn’t think you’d actually get it right, so I didn’t decide on anything!”
Apparently we’d been underestimated.
It seemed leaving the hints on the desk was simply carelessness after all.
“Ah, I know! I’ll give you that. Come here for a sec.”
Hongou-senpai stood up and started walking toward the back of the classroom. We followed, but Mikage remained focused on the magazine spread out on her desk and showed no sign of moving. Maybe she and senpai were close enough that she didn’t need to be considerate, but even so, it seemed excessively indifferent.
I recalled what we’d been told before entering the chemistry room. “Her attitude changes drastically”—was this what she meant? As advised beforehand, I decided not to worry about it too much.
Senpai opened a small refrigerator and took out something packed in a silver pouch. What came out was a small plastic spray bottle. It contained a transparent liquid with a faint yellow tint.
READ THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATION AT LOCALIZERMEERKAT.GITHUB.IO
“This is a luminol reaction reagent! It glows when there’s blood or something. You know it?”
We nodded. We’d even experimented with it before.
“I mixed this up today for the new student welcome, but when I thought about it, you can’t really use it unless you dim the lights, but if we dim the lights we can’t do the welcome event, and I made way too much to use it all… It should last about a week in the fridge, so here!”
I would have been grateful to receive anything, but I had a slight concern.
“We’re planning to check out other clubs too. We’ll be getting home late, and it might go bad in the meantime.”
“Ah, I see, you’re right! Sorry! You know, it’s kinda like that feeling when there’s delicious snacks that need refrigeration and you have to give up on giving them to your boyfriend?”
“Oh, senpai, you have a boyfriend?”
Mizusaki instantly latched onto the unnecessary detail.
“I do! He’s super handsome and we’re so in love!”
“I see, that’s unfortunate…”
Give up on this gal. She’s absolutely not right for you.
“Could it be Mizu-cchi was aiming for me?”
“Aha, you caught me?”
“Sorry, but give up on me. I love my boyfriend. We’re doing cross-coupling like crazy.”
“You’re bonding!?”
“We even make double bonds.”
“Even π bonds!?”
Hey you two over there, stop gleefully trampling over chemistry terminology.
Suddenly I felt something like a chill or killing intent on my back. When I turned around, I noticed Mikage, who should have been absorbed in her math magazine, was looking this way. But her face maintained its usual expressionless look. When our eyes met, she smiled ever so slightly. The killing intent must have been my imagination.
Returning to the desk, senpai handed us some booklets. They were simple things—B4 paper printed and bound in half-fold. The covers read things like “The Evolution of Polymers—Ebiwaka Resin Factory Tour” and “The Miracle of Calcium Carbonate—Fuji Cave Tour.” The covers were full color. Whether ordered from a professional or not, they had a fairly polished design.
“This isn’t much of a substitute, but I’ll give you these! Our chemistry club goes on quite a few field trips, and we write reports each time. What I’m giving you now are the especially well-done ones I carefully selected, and I designed the covers myself—they’re my favorites!”
As expected of Tsunagai High School, even this gal wasn’t ordinary. At least in terms of design sense.
I bowed my head and accepted them.
“Thank you very much. Would it be alright to read them here for a bit?”
“Of course! Take your time!”
Mizusaki and I sat down and flipped through the booklets. The factory tour report I opened was from last year, written by a second-year student named Sayama. She should be a third-year now. Which means she might be the “Saya-cchi” who greeted us at the entrance.
As I read on, my spirits sank.
The content was bland, and somehow the Japanese was off in places. The crucial section about chemical reactions that I was most interested in—whether copied directly from materials they’d received—had reaction equations whose numbering started partway through, making it hard to follow.
Tsunagai High School is supposed to put special emphasis on science education. Even if the student level varies, it’s the top prep school in the prefecture. And this is one of the “especially well-done” reports from their chemistry club?
Mizusaki was reading the stalactite cave tour report with a difficult expression. When I looked at Hongou-senpai, thinking I’d ask to borrow others if there were any, she was peering at what Mikage was doing.
“Hey hey Aya-chi, what are you doing?”
“I’m doing partial derivatives.”
“Eh, what’s that! Like weird derivatives? Sounds difficult!”
Senpai’s voice was cheerful, but Mikage’s voice was cold as ice. The temperature difference between the two threatened to cause convection in the air at any moment. It seemed there really was something between them.
Mikage had placed copy paper divided into columns by a vertical line next to the open math magazine, and was writing spell-like mathematical formulas on it with a mechanical pencil. I could tell she was solving problems.
She’d completely entered study mode.
She seemed to be the type who didn’t care about possessions—she was using a flat mesh case with a zipper, the kind sold at hundred-yen stores, as a pencil case. The contents were also minimal. It was a perfect contrast to senpai’s pencil case, which was bulging like a rolled omelet and cluttered with decorations.
“Huh? Del-chi, did my π catch your attention?”
I was startled when she suddenly spoke to me. Next to me, Mizusaki’s chair made a rattling sound.
“Oi Delta, it’s bad to stare at senpai’s π when she has a boyfriend!”
Tlnote : π = pi = pai = oppai = ϖ
Being told such unwelcome things from two directions, I had to protest.
“What do you mean ‘π’? I wasn’t particularly interested in anything.”
Senpai picked up her pencil case and showed me a strap.
Among the colorful straps, one stood out in particular. It looked handmade. It was cloisonné. On a black background, “ϖ” was written in light blue.
Whether it represented the circle ratio or π electrons I couldn’t tell, but apparently this was the “ϖ” Hongou-senpai was referring to. It was true that I’d been looking at the pencil case, so the “ϖ” had entered my field of vision—that much wasn’t wrong. But there was a misunderstanding.
Having lost the will to argue, I urged senpai on.
“Um, could you give us an introduction to the chemistry club now?”
Please forgive that some barbs got mixed into my words.
“Sure! Come to think of it, I hadn’t done that yet. Sorry sorry.”
Hongou-senpai made an OK sign by her cheek in a carefree manner.
Somehow, I got the feeling this chemistry club wasn’t compatible with my personality.
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