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Hyouka by Yonezawa Honobu. Together with his old friends Fukube Satoshi and Ibara Mayaka, as well as the elegantly ladylike and curiously inquisitive Chitanda Eru, the newly reformed Classics Club find themselves involved in all sorts of mystery-solving escapades. Hyouka light novel Volume 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 PDF. This novel has been translated by Hyouka Rangers and some Fan Translation, without them. Author Topic: [Light Novel] [English] Hyouka (Read times). 0 Members and Hyouka (氷菓) is a novel written by Honobu Yonezawa and serialized in Kadokawa Shoten. It constitutes the . Added Vol 6 PDF~. Logged.
They stay in an inn that belongs to Mayaka's relatives. They are greeted by Mayaka's cousins, Rie older and Kayo, and their family. Eru mentions that she too wishes for a sibling. Rie tells a story about a ghost in the inn they are staying at. The next morning, during breakfast, Mayaka and Eru claim that they saw the ghost. And since the yukata got wet in the rain when Kayo was out, she hung the yukata to dry in the room where the rumored ghost resides, so that the rest of the family would not find out about it. Eru becomes emotional thinking that Rie would not even share her yukata with her own sister, but then, she sees Rie carrying a hurt Kayo piggy back, and Eru becomes happy again.
Ibara also exclaimed with the realization. It had the potency of two sugar cubes mixed into it at once. But, Ibara, on the other hand, hesitantly responded: I guess it does make sense, but I feel like maybe I should go one more time to confirm it.
At any rate, there was nothing more we could do with the information we had. Thinking it was about time to go home, I began to pack away my paperback. In order to prepare for the eventual culture festival, we certainly did not need to travel all the way outside the city; staying at the school would suffice. I refrained from reacting. I have student council business.
Tomorrow was the end-of-term ceremony. Being a member of the general council, Satoshi likely had stuff to do. Not that I cared, but doing preparation work on the first day of summer break would be quite diligent of us. Just as I assumed it would be a done deal, Chitanda spoke in a small voice almost like a whisper. Neither Satoshi nor I had said a thing, but a stiff, impermeable atmosphere suddenly overtook the room. Ibara faced us then continued.
Satoshi nodded, seemingly convinced, but I was left confused. This school had been feverishly enhanced with event after event, starting with the culture festival, but I had never once heard of the choir festival. What a relief. They do it every year round this time. Choir groups come from not only Kamiyama city, but nearby towns as well. They sing all sorts of choir pieces, not just those that Sandou wrote. He seemed aware of this himself, and his ego inflated accordingly. She might not have been aware that Ibara was talking about her at all.
The Classics Club was of course only one of many activities in Kamiyama High School, and outside of the things that classmates and students in the same year did with each other naturally, there was nothing else connecting us. Satoshi rested his hands behind his head. We can talk about it over the phone. Although he mentioned this nonchalantly, he essentially said he would be taking care of it himself.
He really was the type of person who took on more work than anyone else and did it without any pomp and circumstance; I really respected him for that. The days were long at this point in the summer; even though it was nearing 6: I mixed a rough amount of vinegar, soy sauce, sugar, sesame oil, and mirin to throw together a quick sauce and then cooked and rinsed the noodles.
The toppings I chose were tomatoes, ham, and a thinly cooked omelet wrapping that I had accidently forgotten on the stove and let burn a little. I cut the tomato into several chunks and the ham and egg into thin strips. Finally, I quickly poured the sauce over it and added the finishing touch: I took the plate from the kitchen to the living room and prepared some chopsticks and barley tea; with that, the preparations were complete.
As I readied myself to enjoy the meal, taking the chopsticks in hand, the phone started to ring. I stubbornly ignored it as it continued to ring and looked at the clock hanging on the wall. While I was ready to be utterly offended that they had called right in the middle of lunchtime, it had already turned 2: Since the sun had started to shine in the afternoon, I took the laundry out to dry; it must have taken longer than I thought. I stared intently at the chilled noodles in front of me.
I stood up, swaying back and forth, and picked up the receiver. The fact that she called me definitely meant that something had happened. I had no choice but to let the chilled noodles sit for a little longer. I wanted to ask her what had happened, but I could tell her back was up against the wall. The explanation would have to wait until later. I continued to offer her names as I thought of places Chitanda might go. In the end, however, my best guess was the library. Did anything happen?
She responded with clear irritation in her voice: I could bike there from my house in around 10 minutes.
I had said that as a joke, hoping it would help calm Ibara down a little as she seemed tense, but she responded coldly instead: I wouldn't burn myself. The Kamiyama City Cultural Center was a four-story tall building covered in red tiles that resembled bricks; it was separated into two areas, one large hall and one small hall, both of which gave a grand impression.
The choir festival itself had apparently started at 2: Or perhaps there was an afternoon segment and an evening segment. Either way, there was nothing written on the signboard that revealed the answer to me. I went to the information counter and started speaking to the clerk dressed in a light blue uniform.
The clerk was a woman who, even after seeing I was a student, retained her cheery, polite attitude. At that moment, I suddenly had a vicious realization. As I expected, it was a pretty straightforward name. I thanked her and proceeded to go to the second floor. I quickly found my destination: Judging by the space between the doors leading to its neighboring rooms, the space inside was probably around 20 square meters.
The door was off-white, almost gray, and made of metal.
The person inside looked at me as if someone flicked them in the face. It was Ibara. Once she realized it was me that entered, her eyes widened in surprise.
As I did that, my foot got caught on an umbrella stand propped up next to the door. The umbrella it held rolled out onto the carpet. It guess it was her umbrella. My hands ended up getting wet, so I pulled my handkerchief out of my pocket and wiped them off. The lady said only this as she sat back down. She wore a black jacket and a black skirt, reminiscent of mourning attire, and the way she sat up straight left a strong impression.
Waiting Room A7 was just as large as I had initially imagined from the hallway, but the room was surprisingly sparse, giving it a deserted feeling. Aside from the ten or so folding chairs set up in the room, there was only a single desk lined up next to the wall bordering the hallway—nothing more.
The desk was being used to hold personal belongings; on it was a row of bags. Along the other walls were more folding chairs stacked up against each other in their closed positions. Possibly due to their performance still being some time away, only Ibara and the elderly woman were in the room. Ibara jumped up and came over to me. As if forgiving me for my earlier umbrella mishap, the first thing she said was: Although we had discussed this over the phone, I could only think about how intrusive I was.
Who am I to recklessly stick my head into problems unrelated to school? With that, I decided to come. That said, being appreciated like this gave me a somewhat awkward feeling. It was almost 3: Chi-chan was supposed to go.
So then her real performance is at 6: Have the other members arrived? The members that join us in the evening are supposed to show up around 5: I was worrying a little bit about whether or not I should tell her what was on my mind, but considering Ibara seemed to be almost desperately anxious, I had to ask.
I had no idea what kind of song they were singing, but the person who sings the solo is the star. The fact that she was missing was no laughing matter. Ibara took out a small notebook that looked like it could fit in the palm of her hand. She rifled through the pages as she answered. Other than the school, she told me Castle Park and Kobundo Bookstore. Irisu-senpai mentioned a clothing store called Houki-ya and Arekusu Shrine. All of those places would take way too long to walk to.
There was a fundamental question regarding all of this. Or, and I hate to say this, do you think she got wound up in some incident? The knob on the door turned with a metallic clanking noise, and the door itself opened shortly after.
Ibara and I turned to face the entrance, but the person standing there was not Chitanda; instead, a woman who looked to be somewhere in her forties entered. She had on a beige jacket and in her hair was a shining ornament made from a gem, or maybe a well-crafted piece of glass.
She was likely a member of the choir group. The woman named Danbayashi wore a stiff expression as she walked towards us and asked her question. Her brow furrowed as she muttered this, and then she continued talking to Ibara as if she suddenly noticed me.
As I thought this, Ibara turned her head to look at me. As I nodded, Danbayashi-san asked me a question out of nowhere. I swear, this is unbelievable. No matter how nervous she was, disappearing without telling anyone is just plain irresponsible.
Considering their performance was slated for 6: Even then, she always managed to do what needed to be done. If she was, in fact, not here by her own decision, the reason is likely unrelated to the pressure of having the solo part.
Danbayashi-san muttered to herself with her hand over her lips. At that moment, the elderly lady sitting on a folding chair nearby started to speak. Although Danbayashi-san was clearly losing her temper, the woman named Yokote never once lost her gentle tone. You should give her another hour without punishing her. Yokote-san remained completely calm, so perhaps embarrassed at her own flustered appearance, Danbayashi-san averted her gaze.
She then left the waiting room immediately after saying this, not even glancing at Ibara nor me on the way out. Hearing the door firmly shut, I asked a question, still somewhat taken aback.
I glanced over at Yokote-san. If all the other members had gone to the hall, then I suppose she had some reason to stay here, sitting alone on her folding chair.
Another thought struck me, so I decided to ask. Was it her? Just as I had thought. Her covering for Chitanda to Danbayashi-san lent further credence to that theory.
Since Chitanda had disappeared just after arriving at the cultural center, the woman I next to me was probably the last person to have seen her.
I figured I might as well learn from Yokote-san whatever I could. You did a splendid job! Yes, that had indeed happened. Well, her recognizing my face would only play to my advantage. Chitanda-san dropped off the young lady by car and then opened window to offer us well—wishes.
After that, the two of us stood under our umbrellas as we waited for the bus to arrive. Something that caught my interest was the fact that Chitanda was driven to the bus stop. Her shoes were also black, too, and her socks were white. She also had her cream-colored bag—oh, and her umbrella was a striking shade of crimson.
An unusual choice, I thought. If that was the stage outfit, then I had no idea what was up with the beige jacket that Danbayashi-san was wearing earlier. At any rate, aside from the things she was carrying, Chitanda was entirely in monochrome.
Searching for her inside the cultural center would be difficult, but it seemed like she would stand out if she were outside. Chitanda was supposed to have arrived here at 1: Any earlier and it would have probably eaten into her lunchtime, and there was no reason to come earlier anyways; I applaud her efficiency.
Even though the person accompanying Yokote-san had vanished from right in front of her, she simply looked like she was peacefully waiting for Chitanda to return. I wonder where her strength of mind comes from, to display no agitation whatsoever in this bizarre situation. As I asked this final question, Yokote-san returned a peaceful smile. As I left the waiting room, I could hear some sort of commotion from the entrance hall in the distance.
It was the area right before the hallway, where Ibara had gone to check once more. Perhaps something had come up, and she had to leave. Ibara saw me standing in front of the waiting room and her brow furrowed a bit. I told him I was going to ask you, then get back to him. This was a welcome request. Satoshi was a sensible person, so I could trust him with finding information.
We had talked previously about the library and Castle Gardens, so one option would be to have him check those two places, and yet, honestly speaking, I felt like it was gamble with low chances of success. I looked at my wristwatch, and it read a little before 4: We would start to feel the crunch soon.
There was something that had been tugging at the back of my mind. I want him to get a route map and timetable and bring it here. Ibara opened her mouth as if wanting to say something. There was no doubt she wanted to know why, however her expression stiffened as if she revised her thoughts, and she bit her tongue. While saying this, she pulled out her cellphone. Satoshi apparently picked up after a couple seconds, and Ibara then relayed my request over the line.
I had no other choice. Although the Ejima Choir Festival started at 2: Since there were a ton of choir groups participating, maybe the place was filling with people who arrived just in time to watch their friends perform.
She was supposedly wearing a white shirt and black skirt. There were plenty of people whose clothes matched that description, but none of them even slightly resembled Chitanda. I took one to kill time as I waited for Satoshi. The pamphlet itself was cream-colored and printed on glossy paper.
The Ejima Choir Festival start time was clearly indicated as being 2: Perhaps it was like that so they could extend or shorten it in case of any unforeseen issues; maybe they had some other reason. The thought crossed my mind that it would make it difficult for the guests to plan their dinner.
The text introducing the participating choir groups was very small. The majority of the page was dedicated to the lyrics of Sandou Ejima pieces. All of the words seemed archaic. I wonder if no one warned him it sounded like that famous Rentarou Taki composition. It had something to do with everyone living in harmony, or something like that.
I rolled up the pamphlet into a tube in my right hand and started to hit it against my left palm. As I produced a steady, hollow rhythm, my gaze absentmindedly wandered towards the small area in front of the entryway. From what I could see outside the glass doors, the clouds had all but vanished; an intense sunlight was shining down from above. An elderly woman carrying a sun umbrella walked in while wiping her sweat, and then suddenly smiled.
I wondered what on earth had caused that, but then realized she had to have been overjoyed by a sudden rush of air conditioning. Even from here, most of the room felt unaffected. Well, it was probably preferable to being outside, at least. She had on a black skirt and white shirt and carried a small shoulder bag over her dark blue jacket.
I had no idea if this was true or not, but I was strangely curious about it. The elderly lady, however, continued to hold onto her umbrella as she ascended the stairs. I suddenly had a realization and headed over to the information counter. Behind it was the same pleasant lady as before. No matter how you looked at it, I was clearly just a high schooler; there was no need for her to be so polite.
What a difficult job, I thought.
I thought it was an undeniably strange question to ask, but the clerk responded without a hint of hesitation: After hearing that impeccably polite response, I felt guilty for some strange reason and turned to leave the counter. With this, I became a little closer to finding out where Chitanda had gone. But on the way there, a voice called out, interrupting my return. As I said this, I looked down at my watch.
It read 4: It had truly been 15 minutes since he had talked with Ibara earlier. We even told him to not be reckless. Still, this is really troubling. As expected, the number of buses that passed through Jinde was small, and it looked like there was only one running at 1: I nodded once and then folded up the timetable once more.
Satoshi wiped the sweat dripping down his face with his hand, and then continued. Wait, have you just figured out something about where she might be?
I have a lead, at least. To find the missing Chitanda by searching every nook and cranny of Kamiyama City would require more than a week. Since an exhaustive search would be no good, it was necessary to adopt an efficient method, one which minimizes time and energy spent. He asked this directly to my face, making it difficult to respond. I responded with a poor attempt at dodging his question and then tried to forcefully change the topic completely with my own well-timed question that I had wanted to ask anyways.
Satoshi silently shrugged in response. I opened the pamphlet I picked up earlier from the reception desk. Satoshi threw a quick glance at the lyrics, nodding with a strangely satisfied expression. Without realizing it, I was nodding vigorously.
It was truly cathartic to have been given the perfect word to describe the thoughts I had when initially reading it. The man himself was originally a monk, and it was written in a book I read once that his brotherly life may have been where the preachy quality came from.
That might be why he was such a big deal, well, at least to the people who knew about him. He really did want to help me in spite of his business. I guess he really wanted to get it off his shoulders and vent. He was actually really good at shogi, if I remember correctly.
One night, on a study trip in middle school, he played a game against one of our classmates who always bragged about placing third in a city tournament—and won. I knew Satoshi when he was in middle school. I knew the part of him that would go to any lengths necessary for victory; he would abuse loopholes in the rules or let a game become stale and boring as long as it would lead to his victory.
That said, I also knew the part of him that would go against his own beliefs, discarding any part of his personality, in a heartbeat.
In shogi, you lose if you end up in a situation where you king will be taken no matter what you do, but you can forfeit before it comes to that. It was a Christian-style wedding.
I suddenly started to feel like something was lingering on the tip of my tongue. What was it, I wonder? What was it about a game of shogi and a wedding ceremony that brought something so vividly to my mind? I returned to room A7 on the second floor, but Ibara was nowhere to be seen.
I guess she was searching the surrounding area like she said she was going to do earlier. A folding chair was set up in the center of the 20 square meter or so room, and Yokote-san was the only one sitting. Danbayashi-san was also there—next to the window—and was almost certainly glaring at me as I entered. But as soon as I looked over, her shoulders relaxed as if she was disappointed.
An hour has passed. It was only understandable though, given the fact that she was battling a time limit. As usual, Yokote-san remained calm and composed and responded: How about we give her another hour?
I see. As I thought this and was about to turn back, it was already far too late. Danbayashi-san spun around to look at me and started to briskly walk closer and closer, her terrifying face creased at the forehead. Now then, I was in a bind. Of course I had gotten each of their numbers since we may have needed to contact each other about the club, but, unsurprisingly, I did not have them committed to memory. I had nothing to hide, so I told her the truth.
I should probably say something before she gets too upset, though. I expected her to be surprised upon her hearing an update about Chitanda, especially since it came out of nowhere. In fact, she seemed relieved; her stern expression melted almost instantaneously.
Maybe she was embarrassed after realizing just how flustered she was only minutes ago. While I appreciated that she was going to leave without a fight, there was still something I wanted to ask her before I headed out. I called out to her as she reached for the door-handle. I had assumed that she would simply tell me if I asked her nonchalantly enough, but instead she raised her defenses and countered with a question of her own.
I was going to ask Chitanda herself, but it looks like I might not get the chance. As she said that, she started studying me carefully. Her expression started to harden; she must have been getting suspicious, so I quickly took the initiative. After Danbayashi-san left the room and the door closed with a heavy thud behind her, the only two people left were Yokote-san and I. Since there were only two of us in a room that was meant to hold ten or so people, the empty space around me felt terribly strange and uncomfortable.
Yokote-san sat deeply rooted in her folding chair, and her hands rested on top of her lap. At this moment, however, her calm, gentle eyes were fixed intently on me, as if silently demanding to know what was going on. My name is Oreki Houtarou. Yokote-san avoided eye contact for a split second, but then quickly formed an almost imperceptible smile as she lowered her head in return. My name is Atsuko Yokote. Forgive me for not standing up to greet you; my knees are not what they used to be.
It was a polite exchange, but in the end, our warm words were just temporary pleasantries. Was that really true? She opened her mouth and closed it again, as if at a loss for words. I briefly glanced down at my watch and saw that it was nearing 4: Accusing someone always requires a good deal of courage. What Satoshi said had truth to it; there was no use in using brute force to search for Chitanda. I had to find another method and, of course, the simplest one would be to just ask the person who knew.
She knew something, and getting it out of her would be much faster than searching around every cafe and bookstore in Kamiyama City. Her hands stiffened, as if succumbing to nervous tension while they rested on top of her lap. Abandoning my sliver of hope that this might end quickly, I tried to goad it out of her once more.
My emotions grew unsteady as I encountered this resistance head-on. Negotiation and persuasion were never my strong suits. In the end, however, I was the only one here. Not only that, I was pressed for time. I balled my hands into fists and summoned up as much courage as I could. Next to the door was an unstable umbrella stand, and only a single black umbrella stuck out from it.
I had accidentally gotten my foot caught on it when I entered last time and toppled it over as a result. In picking it back up, my hand got wet. That and how Chitanda had a crimson umbrella while she waited for the bus. But look: It has been cloudy in this area since the morning, but when you supposedly arrived with Chitanda at 1: After coming all the way here once, I have a hard time imagining her taking the umbrella somewhere else. Yokote-san placed a hand on her cheek.
Performers were expressly asked to use the ones in the waiting rooms whenever possible, though. I was, of course, fully aware of this. I tried to imagine it—a scenario where you and Chitanda came to this room together, but where only you followed the rules while Chitanda ignored them—and it seems impossible.
It only makes sense that people grouped together do the same things. Had Chitanda actually arrived and then decided to return home for whatever reason, she may have decided not to come back and take her umbrella with her.
But something has been bugging me. I only heard you mention it twice, but apparently you even said it once before I came; Danbayashi-san said something along those lines. Instead of 30 minutes or 2 hours, why did you say one hour? The one hour she kept mentioning—made me aware of something important. Please login or register. Did you miss your activation email? Home Help Login Register. Author Topic: The anime aired from April 22, to September 16, with 22 episodes in total.
There is an ongoing manga written by the original author and illustrated by Task Ohna. Story Synopsis Oreki Houtarou is a self-proclaimed "energy-saver"—that is, he refuses to actively waste energy doing things that aren't necessary.
Though he had no interest whatsoever in participating in any clubs upon entering Kamiyama High School, he was commanded by his older sister, Tomoe, to join the club she was once a part of, the Classics Club, as it was in danger of being abolished due to its nonexistent member count.
Together with his old friends Fukube Satoshi and Ibara Mayaka, as well as with the elegantly ladylike and curiously inquisitive Chitanda Eru, the newly reformed Classics Club ends up finding themselves involved in all sorts of mystery-solving escapades. Houtarou quickly learns that life in the Classics Club, just as Tomoe had promised, would be an interesting one indeed. And so begins the "Classics Club Series".