Free Grotesque by Natsuo Kirino

while the other half would have been there longer, either from elementary school or junior high.
    The university, on the other hand, admits students from across Japan, and the number of famous people who claim Q University as their alma mater is impossible to count. Q University is so famous that my grandfather’s elderly friends would all gasp in admiration at the mere mention of the name. That’s because the university doesn’t admit just anybody.
    And that is why students enrolled in the Q system—who would be able eventually to glide into the prestigious Q University—felt entitled. The sooner students had entered the system, the more profound their sense of elitism.
    It is precisely because of this escalator system that parents with money try so hard to get their children into the school at the elementary level. I’ve heard from others that the intensity with which they approach these initial exams is near hysteria. Of course, I have no child of my own and have no connection to any of this, so I cannot profess to be an authority.
    When I create my imaginary children, do I sometimes have them entering Q Elementary School? Is that your question? Absolutely not.
    Never. My children merely swim in an imaginary sea. The water is a per-4 4
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    feet blue, just as those hypothetical illustrations based on Cambrian fossils.
    There on the sand of the ocean floor, amid rocky crags, everything engages in a survival of the fittest and all living creatures exist just to procreate.
    It’s a very simple world.
    When I first started living with my grandfather, I would dream about what my life would be like as a student at the coveted Q High School for Young Women. My imagination ran rampant, one scene unfolding after another. It gave me a great deal of pleasure, as I have already said, to indulge in these fantasies. I would join clubs, make friends, and live an ordinary life like any other ordinary person. But reality tore these dreams to shreds. Basically, cliques were my undoing. You couldn’t make friends with just anyone, you see. Even the club activities were ranked and ordered into hierarchies of their own, very clearly delineated between the coveted and the peripheral. The basis for all the ranking was of course this sense of elitism.
    Reflecting back on those days from my present age and perspective, it’s obvious to me now. Sometimes at night while I’m lying awake in bed, I’ll be reminded of Kazue for some reason and I’ll suddenly be struck with a eureka-like insight, while remembering the things she once did. It may seem a bit of a distraction, but I feel I should tell you more about my experiences in high school.
    Let’s start with the matriculation ceremonies. I can still remember the mute amazement I felt at seeing all the new students standing petrified in the lecture hall where the ceremony was to be held. The high school freshmen were divided into two distinct groups: those who were continuing on from within the Q school system and those who had entered that year. At a glance it was easy to discern which group was which. The length of our school uniform skirts set us apart.
    Those of us who were entering for the first time—each and every one of us—having successfully passed the entrance exams, had skirts that fell just to the center of our knees, in exact accordance with official school regulations. However, the half who had been in the system since elementary or middle school had skirts that rode up high on their thighs.
    Now, I’m not talking about the kind of skirts that the girls wear today, skirts that are so skimpy they’re hardly there at all. No, these skirts were just the right length to provide a perfect balance with the girls’ highquality navy-blue knee socks. Their legs were long and slender, their hair the color of chestnuts. Delicate gold pierced earrings glistened in their 4 5
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    ears. Their hair accessories, and their bags and scarves, were very