Source
https://kakuyomu.jp/works/2912051603008595869
By the time I returned to the classroom carrying the cardboard boxes I’d hauled out of the storage room, the light streaming through the school building’s windows had turned completely orange, casting long shadows of students busy preparing for the cultural festival down the hallway.
From the classroom, the sounds of cutting drawing paper and moving desks could be heard nonstop, and even though it was the time when students who didn’t stay after school would normally have gone home, the school was still buzzing with more energy than during the day.
Perhaps the true value of the cultural festival lies not in the event itself, but in this process of everyone working together to create something as a team, even if it means sacrificing our after-school time. At least for me—who, until last year, had been so preoccupied with Kotonoha’s schedule—I never had the leisure to calmly observe the atmosphere of the entire class.
“Kasugai, you’re late!”
As soon as I entered the classroom, a male student serving on the executive committee called out to me. When I set the cardboard box down on the floor, Himuro, Shirasaki, and even Mishima followed me in from behind, causing the hands of my classmates who had been working to stop all at once.
Even though I’d just come to deliver supplies, it looked as if I’d returned with three Student Council officers in tow, and the stares from those who didn’t know the situation were tinged more with curiosity than respect.
“Kasugai, since when did you become some big shot in the Student Council?”
“I didn’t. These three just tagged along on their own.”
“It wasn’t on our own. It’s part of our supervisory duties.”
Himuro corrected him immediately, and Shirasaki smiled gently beside him. Only Mishima showed no interest in the reactions around him; she was having the executive committee members verify the number and condition of the cardboard boxes they’d brought. Yet her composed demeanor was so flawless that it was hard to believe this was the same person who’d asked me that meaningful question in the warehouse just a moment ago.
“Yuto.”
Kotonoha walked toward me from the back of the classroom. In her hands, she held a large sheet of drawing paper painted black and a paintbrush that looked like it had been used for the project. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead, and a small smudge of black paint clung to her cheek. In the past, I would have reached out without hesitation to wipe it away, but now, unsure if that was the right thing to do, I simply took a handkerchief from my pocket and handed it to her.
“You’ve got some on your cheek.”
“Thanks.”
Kotonoha wiped her cheek with the handkerchief I’d given her and turned her gaze toward the three people standing behind me. While there was no overt hostility in her eyes, her confusion at seeing my social circle expanding in a place she wasn’t familiar with seemed to be more clearly visible than before.
“So you were with the student council members, huh?”
“We’re checking the supplies in the storage room.”
It was Himuro who answered. Her tone was polite, but it carried a slight stiffness, as if to say there was no need to explain my relationship with Kotonoha to her.
“Yuto, are you working part-time again today?”
“Yeah. I’ll help with the preparations for a bit, then I’ll head out.”
“I see…”
Kotonoha started to say something, but Ren called out to her from the other side of the classroom, and she turned toward him. Ren was carrying lumber to be used for the framework of the haunted house and was asking Kotonoha for help. Kotonoha handed me back my handkerchief, flashed a look of reluctance for just a split second, and then went back to Ren.
Even as I watched her back recede, my heart didn’t race wildly deep inside like it used to. Still, it wasn’t as if I felt absolutely nothing. The emotions I’d built up over five years weren’t going to vanish in just a few weeks. But my gaze was no longer fixed solely on Kotonoha and Ren’s backs. Whether that was proof I was moving forward, or whether I was simply getting lost in other distractions, I couldn’t tell just yet.
“Kasugai-kun.”
Himuro, standing next to me, peered into my face.
“Do you want to go back?”
“Where?”
“To where you were before.”
“…I don’t know. But I think I’m okay just the way things are now.”
When I answered, Himuro said nothing, but the corners of her eyes softened just a little, as if she were slightly relieved. The change was so subtle that I would have missed it if I hadn’t been paying close attention. Lately, I feel like I’ve become better at noticing not just the forced smiles of people who’ve just been dumped, but also the small moments of relief that lie on the opposite end of that spectrum.
♦
That day at “Anemone,” Mishima showed up at the exact same time as yesterday. It was 7:30 p.m.—far too precise to be a coincidence—and as soon as she entered the shop, she checked her watch and sat down at the end of the counter as if nothing had happened.
“Would you like the same coffee as yesterday?”
“Yes. But please add two sugar cubes.”
“That’s one more than yesterday.”
“Yesterday’s was a little too bitter.”
Compared to twelve years’ worth of bitterness, the difference of a single sugar cube is probably negligible, but even so, the fact that she took the initiative to ask for more sweetness might be a significant change for Senpai Mishima. When I handed her the coffee, she didn’t drink it right away; instead, she quietly watched the sugar dissolve.
“Fuyuka-chan, you didn’t bring any work with you today, did you?”
The manager called out from across the counter. The fact that she’d already remembered her name from just yesterday’s brief conversation showed just how skilled she was at building rapport with customers.
“If I eat or drink while working, there’s a chance Kasugai-kun will scold me.”
“I’m not that strict.”
“You’re the one who told me not to make coffee my only meal.”
“That goes without saying.”
Listening to our exchange, Himuro tightened her grip slightly on her teacup; Natsume chuckled amusedly; and Shiina lowered her gaze to her notebook, as if observing the behavior of the newcomer.
It would probably take a little more time for Senpai to naturally blend into the circle of the “losing heroines”—which, until yesterday, had consisted of just the three of us. Even so, she didn’t leave and ordered a second cup of coffee amid the boisterous conversation.
As closing time approached, Mishima settled the bill and quietly asked me,
“What time will Kasugai-kun be here tomorrow?”
“Starting at 5:00 p.m.”
“I see.”
“Are you coming back?”
“If my schedule allows.”
The moment I heard those words, I heard the sound of Himuro’s cup being set down a little too hard behind me. When I turned around, Himuro was smiling gently, but even I had come to realize that her smile wasn’t as calm as it seemed.
However, I still didn’t know the reason why.
She’s probably wary that our circle of heartbroken friends will expand now that Senpai has joined us. Thinking that, I cleared away the empty coffee cup.
At the bottom, there was less bitterness than yesterday and more sweetness.
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