Volume 1 Short Story

It’s July, but the sunlight isn’t strong.

I stop walking and look up at the sky. When I left the house this morning, there were hardly any clouds, but now they’re starting to cover the sky. It feels like it might rain, or maybe it won’t. The rainy season is supposed to be over, and summer should have begun, but the after-school sky doesn’t seem to acknowledge summer yet.

Because of this oddly indecisive sky, I hesitate about taking a detour.

If I go home early, no one will be there.

Spending time alone in an empty house, eating dinner alone in an empty kitchen—there’s no point in rushing back for that. Taking a detour might be better, but if it starts raining while I’m killing time somewhere, that’d be a hassle. I don’t have an umbrella, so I’d get wet on the way home, and drying a soaked uniform is a pain. Even if I skipped school tomorrow because my uniform wasn’t dry, no one would scold me—but staying home alone would be boring.

It might rain, it might not, it might.

I walk slowly and stop in front of a bookstore, looking up at the sky again.

It looks like the clouds have increased, or maybe they haven’t. I wish the sky would go back to the clear blue it was earlier, but it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen.

I went to this bookstore with Maika the other day, so I don’t need any books right now. Still, ever since starting high school, I’ve been coming to this bookstore. It’s well-stocked, and whether I want a book or not, I can kill time here.

Betting that it won’t rain, I enter the bookstore and head to the manga section. I spot a title that catches my interest and hesitate about picking it up. If I were to buy something, a sunny day would feel better than today, with rain looming. I browse the novel section, then head to the magazines. I glance at the covers of the magazines stacked on display, but nothing seems interesting. My eyes drift to the left. “Ah.”

I let out a small sound.

A familiar face I sometimes see in this bookstore.

Same school, same class.

Just a classmate, nothing more, nothing less—Sendai-san. I feel a twinge of annoyance when I spot her.

I’m not interested in the flashy magazines she’s looking at, but staring at their covers could pass the time, so I’d like to stay here a bit longer. But being in the same area as her, both of us in our uniforms, makes me uneasy. Sendai-san feels distant, and it’d be awkward if she approached me. Whenever I see her face, I can’t help but want to leave.

I let out a small sigh.

Sendai-san probably won’t notice me anyway.

She’s never noticed me before, so there’s no reason she would today. I’m not even sure if she knows my name—or maybe she doesn’t even remember my face.

That’s how different our worlds are, I think.

There’s an invisible line between me and her. At school, it’s obvious.

Classmates are divided by color, and people of the same color stick together. There’s a boundary that separates us, and different colors don’t mix. Naturally, my color and Sendai-san’s are different. In reality, you can cross those lines, so it’s not a big deal most of the time, but when you step into a space that’s not yours, the air feels different, and it’s uncomfortable.

[T/N- here colour doesn't mean racial trait, it's a metaphor for caste system]

Sendai-san is the kind of person who doesn’t notice that kind of air.

She crosses boundaries effortlessly and goes wherever she wants in the classroom. I don’t think we could ever understand each other. Before leaving the magazine section, I sneak a glance at Sendai-san.

She’s staring at a brightly colored magazine with a surprisingly serious expression. Come to think of it, the last time I saw her here, she was looking at a magazine with the same serious face. At school, she’s always bright and cheerful, so it’s a different image.

Still, she’s the kind of person who draws attention. Even at school—though not as much as Ibaraki-san—she stands out. Maybe it’s just the light makeup that makes her look pretty.

I turn my back on Sendai-san and leave the magazine section. I return to the manga shelves, pick up the book I was considering, put it back, and head to the novels. I wander around the bookstore, eventually returning to the magazines. Sendai-san is gone. I’m not trying to stalk her, so I decide to head home and walk toward the exit. At the checkout counter, I see Sendai-san rummaging through her bag and stop.

What’s she doing?

I’m intrigued by this flustered side of her, which I’ve never seen at school. I know I shouldn’t get closer, but curiosity pulls me in, and I hear her muttering, “Oh no,” and “Ugh,” sounding troubled. The register displays the price of a book, but it doesn’t seem like she’s paid. Apparently, she forgot her wallet.

Seeing her so flustered makes her feel oddly relatable. My wallet has some leftover allowance—more than I need. Lending her money wouldn’t be a problem. But it’s also amusing to imagine her, usually so composed at school, leaving the bookstore empty-handed and embarrassed.

“This book.”

I hear Sendai-san’s voice. Reflexively, my mouth and body move.

“I’ll pay.”

I hear her surprised “Huh?” as I step closer, pulling a 5,000-yen bill from my wallet and placing it on the tray.

“Sendai-san, use this.”

It’s just a whim, not about owing her or expecting anything in return. Nothing significant.

I handed over 5,000 yen without much thought. Maybe her flustered, panicking self reminded me of myself, or maybe I just wanted to see what kind of face she’d make if I gave her the money. I don’t really know, but since I had the 5,000 yen in my wallet, I did something I wouldn’t normally do.

That’s probably it.

“Miyagi… right?”

She knows my name. I swallow the words that almost slip out. I never thought Sendai-san would say my name, and her surprised expression makes me a little surprised too, almost saying something unnecessary.

“Just use it to pay.”

“No, it’s fine. I’d feel bad.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

It’s a meaningless gesture, so she can forget about it. Lingering at the counter over something as trivial as paying or not paying would draw attention. If someone saw us and asked what I was talking about with Sendai-san at school, it’d be a hassle, and I want to leave as soon as possible. But Sendai-san won’t budge.

“No, I’ll pay you back.”

The 5,000 yen comes back to me. But I have no intention of putting it back in my wallet. I place it on the tray again.

“Um, is this for the payment?” the cashier asks, sounding confused.

“Yes, please,” I reply, and the 5,000 yen disappears into the register. I step away from the counter while Sendai-san collects the change, but she quickly follows me.

“Miyagi, thank you. I forgot my wallet, so you really saved me.”

Her bright voice reaches me, but if she’s grateful, I wish she’d leave me alone. At school, Sendai-san and I are in different areas. Here, I belong in the manga section, and she belongs in the flashy magazine section. We’re supposed to be in different places, so it’d be more natural to keep our distance.

“Here’s the change. I’ll pay you back tomorrow at school for what I used.”

“You don’t have to pay me back. Keep the change too.”

I don’t need the 5,000 yen. If Maika saw me exchanging money with Sendai-san at school, she’d probably grill me about what happened. That wouldn’t be fun.

I turn my back on Sendai-san and start walking.

“Wait, no, that’s not okay!”

“I really don’t need it. Just keep it.”

“I can’t accept it. I’ll pay you back.”

“Then throw it away.”

“Throw it away?! It’s money!!!”

Sendai-san grabs my shoulder.

If she doesn’t want to throw it away, she should just take it, but she seems unwilling to do either and keeps pushing forward. “Right, I’ll borrow the change for now. I’ll pay it all back tomorrow.”

“You don’t need to. Just keep it.”

I shake off her hand and step outside the bookstore. “I’m paying you back. The change and the 5,000 yen, I’ll return it all at school,” she says, following me. Her voice, slightly sharp, is one I’ve never heard at school.

She seems like the type who’d just accept the money, given the people she hangs out with—but apparently not.

She’s surprisingly persistent.

And stubborn.

As I walk, I think about how to make her take the 5,000 yen. Something that would make her accept it—or, even if she doesn’t want to, leave her no choice.

A ridiculously petty idea pops into my head.

“…Then work for the 5,000 yen.”

I say it without looking at her. Money is payment for labor. It’s a silly suggestion, but not absurd. My dad works to earn money. What’s in my wallet is a fraction of the result of him spending his days off, his time at home—everything—on work.

“Work? What?”

“Come to my house for now.”

I stop and look at Sendai-san.

“What? Your house? I said I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

“If you don’t come, just take the money.”

She won’t come, and she doesn’t have to. The 5,000 yen is hers.That’s the end of it. Being alone at home is boring, but I turn my back on her.

I hear a small sigh.

She can stay there. Before walking away, I look up at the sky. There are more clouds than before I entered the bookstore. It’s not just “might rain” anymore—it’s definitely going to rain, with gray clouds covering the sky. I should hurry home. I don’t want to soak my uniform.

As I think about this, I hear another, heavier sigh. “I have my umbrella at home,” Sendai-san says.

I don’t know if she actually has one, but her gloomy sigh makes me say something unnecessary.

“Ugh, fine. Where’s your house? Is it close?”

“Not too far. Follow me.”

I mutter and start walking, and Sendai-san actually follows. I don’t know what I want her to do. I don’t know what she plans to do. But maybe something like this is okay once in a while.

I don’t have anything specific for her to do, but being alone at home is boring. Having Sendai-san there might be a small distraction. We probably don’t have much to talk about, so she won’t be much of a conversation partner, but it’s better than being alone.

So, I keep walking toward home in silence.