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https://kakuyomu.jp/works/2912051603008595869
The next day after school, the school grounds—busy with preparations for the cultural festival—were even noisier than they had been the day before.
Cardboard boxes and lumber collected by each class lined the hallways, signs still in progress were propped against classroom doors, and even loud voices and footsteps—which would normally draw a reprimand from teachers—were tolerated for now as part of the excitement of bringing the festival to life.
The haunted house our class was organizing was no exception. Some were covering the windows with black construction paper, others were making blood-stained handprints to stick on the walls, and still others were arguing over the best way to startle visitors—the classroom was already a chaotic mess, even before it was finished.
“Kasugai, carry this board to the back!”
Called over by a member of the executive committee, I picked up a stack of thin wooden planks piled against the wall and headed toward the passageway being built at the back of the classroom.
It was supposed to become a maze for visitors on the day of the cultural festival, but for now, only the framework was up, and tools and scraps were scattered across the floor. Just as I set the planks down, watching my step, I heard the sound of paper rustling behind me. When I turned around, Kotoha was standing there holding a decorative ghost.
“Yuto, could you help me out a little?”
“Where are we putting it?”
“Above the entrance. I can’t reach it myself.”
The spot Kotonoha pointed to was slightly higher than the classroom door. In the past, I would have found meaning in the very fact that she was asking me for help and gone above and beyond, but now I simply brought over a stepladder, secured the ghost, and worked naturally, just as a classmate.
I couldn’t say I’d completely come to terms with it, but it seemed the period when my heart ached every time I heard Kotonoha’s voice was gradually coming to an end.
“You’ve changed lately, Yuto.”
As I climbed down from the stepladder, Kotonoha said, looking up at me. There was no hint of reproach in her expression; rather, it was tinged with anxiety, as if she were trying to hold on to something that was slipping away.
“Really?”
“Before, you used to look much happier when I asked you to do something.”
“It’s not like I was doing this reluctantly just now, you know.”
“That’s not what I meant… You seem fine even when I’m not around.”
Just as I was wondering how to respond to that, a voice called out to me from the classroom entrance. When I turned around, I saw Himuro standing there holding Student Council documents, with Shirasaki beside her.
The moment they saw Kotonoha and me facing each other, their expressions shifted slightly, but perhaps because our classmates were nearby, they didn’t hurl any of their usual blunt remarks at us.
“Kasugai, please come to the student council room. We need you to review the layout proposal for the café area.”
“We’re in the middle of class prep right now.”
“It’ll only take about ten minutes.”
“I’ll help out until he return, Senpai.”
Shirasaki said this as she entered the classroom. She looked up at the ghost figure I’d just set up and gave Kotonoha a gentle smile. That smile was polite, yet it also carried a sense of strength, as if to show she could step in for me.
“Kasugai-senpai is needed by the student council, after all.”
“…I see.”
Kotonoha’s voice dropped slightly. Although I noticed the change, I didn’t feel the urge to try to cheer her up right away like I used to. She has Ren. And for me, too, a life that doesn’t revolve solely around Kotonoha is beginning to take shape. Accepting that change is surely necessary not just for me, but for Kotonoha as well.
On the way to the student council room, Himuro walked silently beside me for a while, but once we reached the top of the stairs, she finally spoke up softly.
“What were you talking about with Mizuse-san?”
“About how I’ve changed.”
“You really have changed, haven’t you?”
“Even from your perspective, Himuro?”
“Yes. Before, even if Mizuse-san’s expression just grew a little gloomy, you’d put yourself last.”
Himuro’s words were unsparing, but I couldn’t deny them. There was certainly a time when I used Kotonoha’s smile as my reason for staying by her side. But that wasn’t just kindness—it was also cowardice, a fear of being disliked.
“I think I prefer the way you are now, Kasugai-kun.”
Himuro added quietly, still facing forward. Though her tone was calm, the meaning of her words alone was quite direct.
“Is that as a fellow heartbroken person?”
When I asked, Himuro’s steps halted for a moment.
“…For now, let’s just leave it at that.”
“For now?”
“Please don’t ask me to repeat myself.”
Without answering any further, Himuro walked ahead into the student council room. I tried to figure out what she meant, but the image of a future where I’d make another unnecessary misunderstanding and get scolded flashed before my eyes, so I decided not to press the issue.
♦
At “Anemone” that day, Mishima showed up about an hour after opening. She arrived more than two hours earlier than yesterday. After sitting down at an empty counter seat, she took out a paperback book from her bag instead of work documents.
“So you didn’t bring any work with you today.”
“I decided I should schedule some rest time.”
“Did someone tell you that?”
“A very overprotective junior.”
Apparently, she was referring to me. Mishima put two sugar cubes in her coffee and stirred it with a spoon, her movements more practiced than yesterday’s. Across from her, Himuro was sipping tea, glancing over at us repeatedly. The shop had been quiet before Natsume and Shiina arrived, but within that silence, there was a tense atmosphere distinct from calm.
“Mishima-senpai.”
Himuro set down his cup.
“You’ve been coming here quite often lately, haven’t you?”
“This is my second day.”
“Do you plan to keep coming?”
“If my schedule allows.”
“Please make sure it doesn’t interfere with your student council duties.”
“I don’t need to be managed by the vice president.”
Their exchange was polite, yet clearly not amicable. Perhaps because they were both still nursing heartbreak over President Kuze, they felt awkward recognizing similarities between each other. As I thought this and placed a glass of water between them, Mishima looked up at me and let a slight smile touch her lips.
“Kasugai-kun”
“Yes.”
“This coffee tastes sweeter than yesterday’s.”
“I used the same amount of sugar.”
“Then it must be something other than the taste.”
Just as I was about to ask what she meant, Himuro’s cup was set down forcefully once again. In the back of the shop, the manager was laughing cheerfully while polishing glasses.
“Yuto-kun.”
“What is it?”
“We might want to decide on our seating arrangement while we still can.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because before long, it looks like only the seats near you will be reserved.”
It seemed I was the only one who thought it was a joke. Himuro and Senpai both stared at the manager, falling into a silence that suggested they were seriously considering the proposal.
I’d thought that if the number of people dealing with heartbreak increased, this place would become a space where we could understand each other’s pain. But in reality, it seemed that precisely because we were all people with the same wounds, even the things we couldn’t compromise on were starting to resemble one another.
And even though I didn’t want to admit it, I was gradually beginning to realize that I was being placed right at the center of it all.
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