Source
https://kakuyomu.jp/works/2912051603008595869
After school, the student council room was filled with a different kind of quiet than during the day.
The cheers of the sports clubs drifted in through the window. A whistle sounded in the distance. The footsteps of students running down the hallway could be heard.
With the cultural festival approaching, the entire school was gradually becoming more and more excited.
In the classrooms, opinions were flying back and forth about the festival performances, and after school, students carrying cardboard boxes and drawing paper were coming and going in the hallways. Even empty classrooms—which normally no one would give a second glance—were now being used as storage spaces for large props.
If you were to give “youth” a tangible form, this would probably be what it looked like.
However, in the student council room, situated slightly off the center of that youthful bustle…
“Kasugai-kun.”
“Yes.”
“We need to have a serious discussion about your boundaries with girls.”
I was getting lectured by Himuro.
What exactly is youth?
It feels quite different from the image I’d held until now.
“First of all, Kasugai-kun, you’re way too vulnerable around girls.”
“I’m just treating them normally.”
“I’m saying that ‘normal’ is the problem.”
Himuro was sitting directly across from me, her hands clasped on the desk.
Next to her was Shirasaki.
For some reason, it was two against one.
A few other student council members were still in the room, but they were pretending not to look our way. To be precise, while they weren’t looking directly at us, they were all clearly eavesdropping.
“I think it’s wonderful that you realized Senpai Mishima was taking on all the work by herself,”
Shirasaki said.
“Thanks.”
“But what happened next is the problem.”
“What exactly?”
“You answered immediately, ‘I’ll help you.’”
“She was in trouble, after all.”
“That’s exactly the point.”
Shirasaki let out a deep sigh.
I don’t get it.
If someone is in trouble and there’s something I can do, I lend a hand.
I think that’s just normal human interaction—it goes beyond romance.
“Even I listened to Himuro when you first came to the shop, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“It was the same with Natsume, and I’ve even read Shiina’s novel. Isn’t it weird to ignore only Mishima Senpai?”
“No one said you should ignore her.”
Himuro furrowed her brow slightly.
“But Kasugai-kun, once you start worrying about someone, you tend to worry about them more than necessary.”
“Do I?”
“Yes.”
“Like what, specifically?”
When I asked her to elaborate, Himuro fell silent for just a moment.
And then.
“…I’m a prime example.”
Her voice was soft.
But it wasn’t so soft that I could miss it.
Himuro lowered her gaze and moved her fingers slightly on her lap.
“After Chairman Kuze rejected me, Kasugai-kun listened to me. No matter how many times I came, you never turned me away; on days when I didn’t want to talk, you didn’t press me, and on days when I wanted to talk, you stayed with me until the very end.”
“That’s pretty normal, isn’t it?”
“I’m saying it’s not normal.”
Himuro’s voice grew slightly louder.
I kept my mouth shut.
She seemed to be trying to say something for a while, but eventually exhaled as if she’d given up.
“…That’s enough.”
“Is the lecture over?”
“I decided it was pointless to try to explain it to Kasugai-kun with words.”
“Isn’t that a bit harsh?”
“It’s the truth.”
Even Shirasaki nodded.
It seemed I wasn’t trusted by those around me as much as I thought I was.
Of course, I’d like to think that’s limited to matters of romance.
“Anyway—”
I looked around the room.
“Where’s Mishima-senpai?”
She had been sitting there during lunch break, surrounded by a mountain of documents and a calculator, but she wasn’t there now.
Then Shirasaki replied.
“She’s in the archives. She said she was checking last year’s accounting records.”
“By herself?”
“Yes.”
“Is she still working?”
There’s still time until the cultural festival.
Of course, I wouldn’t say we have plenty of time, but there’s no need to finish everything today.
During lunch break, Senpai said she could handle both the accounting and inventory management all by herself.
But that wasn’t about her ability.
She was simply avoiding asking for help.
That’s how it looked to me.
“Kasugai-kun.”
As I stood up, Himuro called out to me.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m just going to take a quick look.”
“Did you hear what we were talking about earlier?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Then why are you going?”
“It’ll be too late once she collapses, won’t it?”
Himuro looked like she was about to say something.
But in the end, she didn’t say anything.
Instead, she let out a small sigh.
“…Five minutes.”
“What?”
“The time it’ll take you to get back.”
“That’s short.”
“Then make it ten minutes.”
“It’s gone up.”
“I won’t budge any further.”
Once again, she’s micromanaging my time.
Himuro’s been doing this a lot lately.
I guess this is just a sense of solidarity between two people who’ve both been dumped.
Probably.
♦
The archives were located at the end of the connecting corridor leading to the old school building.
It was hardly ever used except during the cultural festival, and the moment I opened the door, the smell of old paper and dust hit my nose.
Metal shelves lined the room, stacked with files and cardboard boxes sorted by school year.
At the very back.
Mishima was sitting on the floor, spreading out a large pile of documents.
“Mishima-senpai.”
“……Kasugai-kun.”
Looking up at her, I furrowed my brow slightly.
Her expression was as impassive as ever.
But her complexion was clearly poor.
“Did you eat lunch?”
“I did.”
“What did you have?”
“Coffee.”
“That’s a drink.”
“I put sugar in it.”
“I’m not talking about nutrition.”
Mishima lowered her gaze back to the documents.
“It’s fine. The work is proceeding as scheduled.”
“You look pale.”
“I always do.”
“You look worse than when I saw you at lunch.”
“It’s the lighting.”
“We’re under fluorescent lights here.”
“Then it’s the fluorescent lights.”
It seemed she had absolutely no intention of admitting it.
I sat down across from Senpai.
I looked at the documents spread out before us.
Three years ago.
Two years ago.
Last year.
Sales, cost of goods sold, purchase quantities, and disposal quantities from past cultural festivals.
The detailed figures were listed in a table.
“Are you planning to check all of this?”
“Yes.”
“By the end of today?”
“If possible.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I can do it.”
“It’s not about whether you can do it or not—the point is, you don’t have to.”
Mishima’s finger paused.
This person isn’t someone who hates failing.
She’s afraid to leave things to others.
If she takes on everything herself, even if she fails, it’s her responsibility alone.
If she doesn’t have expectations, she won’t be let down.
If she doesn’t rely on others, she won’t be troubled even if someone disappears from her side.
I understand that way of thinking a little bit.
Because I used to be like that, too.
I never told Kotonoha that I liked her.
If I didn’t confess, I wouldn’t get rejected.
If I didn’t try to change our relationship, I could stay by her side forever.
That’s what I thought.
And as a result, I did nothing—and lost.
“Mishima-senpai.”
“Yes?”
“Did you have feelings for the president?”
Her fingers, which had been tapping away at the calculator, came to a complete stop.
The air grew thick.
“……You saw that photo before, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I told you to forget about it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“If you’re going to apologize, then please don’t ask.”
“But I was just wondering if it had anything to do with why you’re keeping it all to yourself.”
Mishima-senpai didn’t answer.
I didn’t press her either.
From outside the window, I could hear the sounds of the wind ensemble practicing.
They must be practicing the piece they’ll perform at the cultural festival.
The melody drifting from the music room a short distance away resonated beautifully in the quiet of the archives.
“Twelve years.”
Eventually, Mishima spoke up.
“Huh?”
“Since I fell for him, Kuze-kun.”
Twelve years.
My five years suddenly felt so short.
“We’ve been together since elementary school. Our houses are close, and our parents know each other.”
“So you’re childhood friends?”
“I don’t like that phrase.”
Senpai said quietly.
“The phrase ‘childhood friends’ is convenient. It makes a relationship—one where, no matter how long we’ve been side by side, we never became lovers—sound as if it were something special.”
I felt as if I’d been stabbed deep in my chest.
I understand that too.
All too well.
“Did you confess your feelings?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“There was no need.”
Mishima-senpai replied matter-of-factly.
“Kuze-kun had someone he liked since his second year of middle school.”
“Is that his current girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
In other words, before Himuro.
Chairman Kuze had had someone he liked for much, much longer.
And Mishima knew that better than anyone else.
“He even consulted me. We thought together about how to confess and what gifts to give.”
Her voice was flat.
But that’s exactly why it carried so much weight.
“On the day Kuse-kun started dating her, I was the very first person he told. I smiled and said, ‘Congratulations.’”
Twelve years.
She had loved him
But she couldn’t bring herself to say how she felt.
On the contrary, she even helped the one she loved confess his feelings to another woman.
“Do you regret it?”
“No, I don’t.”
It was an immediate answer.
But after a moment…
“…That’s what I keep telling myself.”
That was all she added.
I couldn’t say a word.
I didn’t want to offer any cheap consolation.
You did your best.
There’s always next time.
You’ll find someone better
It would be far too disrespectful to dismiss twelve years with words like that.
“Kasugai-kun.”
“Yes.”
“Why are you silent?”
“Because I don’t know what to say.”
“You’re honest.”
“It would just make you angry if I tried to comfort you.”
“Yes. Very much so.”
“Then I’m glad I didn’t say anything.”
Senpai narrowed her eyes slightly.
It took me a moment to realize she was smiling.
“Can I ask you just one thing?”
“Go ahead.”
“Why do you take on all this work by yourself?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Really?”
When I asked that, she fell silent again.
Eventually, she lowered her gaze to the documents in front of her.
“……Kuze-kun, He has always been the type who can’t just leave people in trouble behind.”
“He’s a good person, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
That single sentence seemed to convey all twelve years of Mishima’s life.
“That’s why I decided to become someone who doesn’t need help.”
Don’t rely on anyone.
Don’t cry.
Don’t show weakness.
Do everything on your own.
That way, I won’t be a burden to the person I love.
I’m sure that was Mishima’s own way of loving someone.
But.
“Isn’t that exhausting?”
“……”
“Taking everything on by yourself just to avoid being a burden to the person you like. If you collapse because of it, I think the president will end up worrying about you anyway.”
“Kasugai-kun.”
“Yes.”
“People don’t like hearing the truth.”
“I get told that a lot.”
“That’s a lie.”
“That’s the first time anyone’s ever told me that.”
Mishima smiled ever so slightly again.
I stood up and picked up one of the files stacked on the floor.
“I’ll do half.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Then a third.”
“This isn’t a matter for negotiation.”
“Then a quarter.”
“That’s less.”
“Because you’re not budging, Senpai.”
She stared at me for a moment.
And then.
“……Just ten files.”
“Got it.”
“Go through the contents and mark the important parts with sticky notes.”
“Got it.”
“Use yellow sticky notes. If you find anything suspicious in the numbers, use red.”
“That’s pretty detailed.”
“Of course.”
We went through the materials in silence for a while.
We hadn’t saved anyone.
It didn’t make Mishima’s twelve years any lighter.
It was just that the work I’d been doing alone had become, just a little bit, the work of two people.
That’s all.
But I feel like it was the same on the night Himuro first came to “Anemone,” right after her heartbreak.
Nothing gets resolved.
You just aren’t alone anymore.
Sometimes, just that alone makes it a little easier for a person to breathe.
“Kasugai-kun.”
“Yes?”
“What time does your part-time job end today?”
“Eight o’clock tonight.”
“I see.”
Mishima-senpai flipped through the documents.
“Is the coffee good?”
“If the manager hears you ask that, she’ll get mad at you.”
“Then I’ll rephrase the question.”
Mishima-senpai looked at me from behind her glasses.
“Can you spend time alone in silence?”
I thought for a moment.
Himuro.
Natsume.
Shiina.
Shirasaki.
I pictured the recent “Anemone.”
“…It might not be quiet.”
“In that case, never mind.”
“But—”
I continued.
“I don’t think I’ll be alone.”
Mishima’s finger paused.
For just a few seconds.
Then, as if nothing had happened, she returned her gaze to the documents.
“Is that so?”
At 7:30 p.m. that day.
The bell on the shop door rang.
“Welcome.”
I looked up.
Mishima Fuyuka was standing at the entrance.
Still in her school uniform.
Holding her bag with both hands, she looked around the shop, seeming slightly uncomfortable.
By the window, Himuro was drinking tea;
Natsume was eating a parfait.
Shiina was writing a novel.
“…It’s noisy in here, isn’t it?”
“I told you so.”
“Should I go home?”
Mishima-senpai glanced back toward the entrance.
But.
She didn’t leave.
“I’ll have a coffee.”
“Sure.”
“Please give me the bitterest one you have.”
“Sugar?”
“No, thank you.”
After answering that, Mishima paused for a moment.
“…Just one, please.”
I said nothing and added a single sugar cube.
And so.
To the hangout for the losers of love.
For the first time, the senpai who hadn’t been able to admit defeat to anyone for twelve years set foot inside.
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