Source
https://kakuyomu.jp/works/2912051603068864073
After school, as preparations for the cultural festival were in full swing, the air was filled with the sound of people’s voices everywhere.
In the classrooms, the sound of cardboard being cut could be heard; in the hallways, students were running around carrying posters; and in front of the faculty room, members of the organizing committee were lined up to have their applications approved. Shiori and I were carrying colored paper to put on the signs. We’d decided to split the load in half, so the weight in my hands wasn’t that bad.
Still, the moment I spotted Rino around the corner of the hallway, a different kind of weight settled on my shoulders.
Rino was leaning against the wall, trying—and failing—to put on her usual confident expression. As Shiori and I approached, her gaze shifted from the stack of colored paper to Shiori, then back to me.
“Minato, can I talk to you for a second? I want to properly talk about what happened the other day.”
Shiori reached out to take half the stack of colored paper from my hands. When I nodded, she didn’t insist on staying and waited for us in front of the bulletin board a short distance away. Seeing this, Rino gripped my sleeve.
“I’m sorry for saying things like you’re just ‘convenient’ or that having a boyfriend is out of the question. Even if it was a joke, I shouldn’t have said it if it upset you, Minato. So… do you think we could talk a little more normally? I know we can’t go back to exactly how we were before, but I was hoping we could gradually get back to being childhood friends.”
It took the form of an apology.
But in the end, she still brought up the idea of going back. I realized that Rino wasn’t trying to apologize—she was trying to regain, even just a little, the ground she’d lost by apologizing.
“I get that you were trying to apologize. But we’re not going back to the way things were before.”
Rino’s face froze.
“You haven’t even finished what you were saying.”
“Yeah. But if this apology is just a way to get back together, I can’t accept it. If you think you were in the wrong, that’s something you need to carry with you—not something you need my forgiveness for.”
Rino bit her lip and fell silent. It was a face that had lost all trace of anger even before the tears came. I left her behind and started walking. Shiori didn’t ask any questions; she simply handed half the stack of autograph cards back to me.
Before I could return to the classroom, Mikoto called out to me.
Mikoto wasn’t with her friends. She was running her fingers through her loosely curled hair, trying to smile. But that smile didn’t seem to command the room like it usually did; it looked like she was just trying to keep herself together.
“Segawa-kun, I’d like to say a few words, too. I realize now that I’ve been taking the word ‘friend’ for granted. I think it was rude of me to try to confide in you behind Miyahara-san’s back. So, I’ll apologize properly next time.”
“Please tell that to Shiori directly.”
“Okay. But… talking to you, Segawa-kun, was just so easy for me. Not just about love advice, but just talking normally. So, if you put complete distance between us, it’ll be a little hard for me.”
Mikoto was choosing her words very carefully. Her voice wasn’t the kind that would draw others in like it used to. I think that’s what had changed.
But that wasn’t a reason for me to change my answer.
“We’ll talk about what we need to in class. But I won’t go back to being the person you turn to when you need to feel better. I’m not in charge of sorting out your feelings anymore.”
Mikoto took a small breath. Her eyes reddened, but she didn’t cry. She must have realized that what she’d been longing for had just been clearly defined by those words.
“I see. …Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
With her voice echoing behind me, I returned to the classroom with Shiori.
After finishing our work and heading toward the entrance, this time Chitose was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Her black hair was neatly styled, but she looked a little more tired than before. Ever since she’d taken it upon herself to handle the revisions for the cultural festival, the air of composure that had surrounded her had begun to fade.
“Segawa-kun. I know now—even if it’s a little late—that I’ve been relying on you too much. There were times I asked you to do things knowing you couldn’t refuse. I’m truly sorry about that.”
Chitose-senpai bowed her head clearly.
Her words were more polished than Rino’s or Mikoto’s. She recognized her own fault. That was precisely why I was afraid to hear what she would say next.
“It’s just until the cultural festival, though. Could we have a relationship where I don’t rely on you as a supervisor, but can ask for advice when I’m in a bind? I don’t intend to take up your time, but there are things I might overlook on my own.”
“I’ve heard your apology. But I can’t say I forgive you.”
Senpai looked up.
“I won’t go back to being the junior who does everything for you, Senpai. Being left around just as someone to rely on when you’re in trouble is the same thing to me.”
Senpai stared at me for a moment. Unlike usual, she didn’t try to persuade me with a string of words. Eventually, she gave a small nod.
“……You’re right. I was still trying to keep a way to rely on you.”
Her voice sounded bitter. I bowed my head and headed toward the entrance.
Just as I was changing my shoes, Mei was standing there. She hadn’t brought any friends today. She was clutching the straps of her bag with both hands, making her small frame look even smaller.
“Senpai. I won’t ask you to run errands or carry my stuff anymore. I probably used to act like things would work out if I just cried. So… can’t we go back to being just a normal senior and junior?”
Mei’s voice was weak. Yet, it seemed a trace of that habit—trying to sway me with her vulnerability—still lingered.
“I’ll at least say hello normally. But if the ‘normal’ you’re talking about means going back to the kind of relationship where you can rely on me like before, I won’t do it.”
Tears welled up in Mei’s eyes.
“So even if I apologize, it’s no use, is it?”
“No. If you think apologizing will let us go back to the way things were, you’re wrong.”
Mei let her tears fall, but I didn’t comfort her. Shiori didn’t say anything either. Mei kept her head down for a while, then said only “I understand” in a hoarse voice before walking away.
By the time we passed through the school gate, I was utterly exhausted.
Shiori stayed silent beside me for a while, but instead of heading toward the station, she turned toward the shopping district.
“We promised to get something sweet on the way home today.”
“Did we make a promise like that?”
“We just did.”
Shiori said with a serious expression.
“You don’t have to give up your whole day, Minato-kun, just to accept someone’s apology. Today, I’m going to spoil you.”
The tension deep in my chest eased a little.
“Spoil me? What are you going to do?”
“I’ll buy some taiyaki. You’re not allowed to reflect on your mistakes, Minato-kun. Also, please eat it properly right next to me.”
It sounded like an order, but it wasn’t the kind of language she usually used with me.
I gave a small laugh and walked beside Shiori. I had no intention of going back to retrieve the words I’d left behind. I decided that the perfect way to end my day wasn’t with someone’s tears, but with warm taiyaki eaten with Shiori.
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