Source
https://kakuyomu.jp/works/2912051597934651646/episodes/2912051598926862972
The club room was located in a corner of the old school building, a spot where students rarely passed by.
A weathered wooden door bore an old-fashioned plaque reading “Literary Club.”
When Seika cheerfully opened the door, calling out, “Excuse me!” she found herself in a serene space where time seemed to stand still—a world where the outside commotion felt like a distant dream.
Sunlight streaming through the window made the dust sparkle, and the scent of old paper and ink tickled her nostrils.
“Hey there, Miyuki!”
Seika ran over with a beaming smile.
Sitting by the window, a girl was reading a thick paperback book.
[Chino Miyuki].
She was a girl from the neighboring class and one of Seika’s few, yet cherished, best friends.
Miyuki didn’t even look up at Seika’s greeting, moving only the fingertips turning the pages.
Her profile betrayed no emotional fluctuation. The eyes behind her glasses were calm, as if seeing right through everything.
Her demeanor was reminiscent of a taciturn, bookish girl from a classic anime of yesteryear.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Houtarou Achi from Class 2. …You’re Chino Miyuki, right?”
When Houtarou bowed politely, Miyuki finally looked up from her book and pushed the bridge of her glasses up with her fingertip.
“…It’s fine. Thank you. Please, have a seat.”
A voice as clear as a bell, yet stripped of all emotion.
Having said only that, she returned once more to her own world—the labyrinth of books.
“Are you sure it’s okay to have lunch here?”
When Houtarou asked again, as if to confirm, Miyuki nodded deeply just once, without looking up from her book.
“It’s fine, it’s fine! Miyuki-chan isn’t fazed by something like this! Come on, Achi-kun, sit down, sit down!”
Seika urged Houtarou to sit on the round stool and settled herself right next to him.
The atmosphere between the three of them was somewhat strange, yet strangely soothing.
“Let’s eat together. What about you, Chino-san?”
“I already ate.”
“Oh, okay—well then, we’re going to go ahead and dig in on our own!”
Seika took out the yakisoba bread she’d just bought at the school store and began eating alongside Houtarou.
The rich aroma of the sauce wafted gently through the quiet club room.
Even as she munched away on the bread, Seika’s mouth never stopped.
She talked passionately to Miyuki about how delicious the yakisoba bread was, how nice the weather was today, and her own “red-faced” experience from that morning (with a bit of embellishment).
Miyuki, on the other hand, continued reading her book as if completely ignoring Seika’s rapid-fire chatter.
She didn’t offer any acknowledgments, nor did she make eye contact.
Seeing the scene unfold as if Seika were talking to a wall, Houtarou stopped eating and whispered to Seika.
“Hey, Hirugami-san.”
“What is it, Achi-kun?”
“…Is it okay to just leave Chino-san alone? I feel like you’re talking too much on your own and getting in the way of her reading.”
At Houtarou’s perfectly reasonable concern, Seika looked puzzled for a moment before bursting into laughter.
“It’s fine, it’s fine! Miyuki likes being alone, and she probably just thinks of my chatter as background noise. Right, Miyuki?”
When Seika gave Miyuki a light poke on the shoulder, Miyuki nodded again without looking up from her book.
To her, Seika’s boisterousness wasn’t annoying noise, but rather a comforting part of her daily life.
Houtarou gazed curiously at the relationship between the two girls in front of him.
A flashy, energetic, innocent gal and a cool, aloof literary girl.
In both appearance and personality, they were like “oil and water,” yet there was a solid bond between them that transcended words.
“…I see. Even though you’re like oil and water. You two really are friends, aren’t you?”
“Yeah! Miyukin is my best confidante!”
As Seika puffed out her chest proudly, the corners of Miyuki’s mouth seemed to curl up just a few millimeters.
It was a subtle yet definite change—one you’d miss if you weren’t observing closely.
Houtarou took another bite of his yakisoba bread and found himself forced to acknowledge this strange friendship.
After all, he, too, was one of those whose mundane daily life had been turned upside down by this boisterous gal.
The sound of pages turning and Seika’s cheerful chatter.
That harmony—which felt almost like dissonance—filling the Literature Club room was as heavy and warm as Seika’s love itself.
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