Volume 3 Episode 01

 I hadn’t meant to stare. I was only glancing — no special intent — but Sendai-san didn’t unfasten the second button of her blouse. Same after school, same room as always.

Only Sendai-san was different.

At school she only undoes the very top button of her blouse, but whenever she comes to my room she always undoes the second one too. Today, though, that second button stayed closed. It unsettled me. If I had to pin down a reason, I’d blame “the unusual summer vacation” we’d spent together.

We don’t meet on days off. That was Sendai-san’s rule. Then she changed it and, over the summer, came to my house as a “tutor.” That altered rule made a summer where I saw her three times a week, and it led to things that had nothing to do with studying.

Going to her house, pretending to be friends, ordering her around. We were only supposed to study, but we did things we normally wouldn’t.

“Today’s command?”

She says it from across the table; there’s room for us to sit side by side, and I look at her.

The last time she came, just like now, she hadn’t undone the second button. But on the first day I saw her again in September, after summer ended, she had undone it. Because sometimes she does and sometimes she doesn’t, I can’t help noticing. I let it go last time without saying anything, but if this keeps happening, it’ll feel like I’m still stuck in summer, and I’ll never be able to sit beside her like normal.

“Unbutton it.”

I give the command to return this not-quite-right Sendai-san to the usual one.

“Button?”

“The blouse button.”

“Miyagi, you perv.”

She answers like that, but she probably misunderstood.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean then?”

“I don’t mean all of them. Honestly, if someone hears ‘unbutton it’ and immediately thinks ‘all of them,’ isn’t that the pervy way of thinking?”

“I never said I thought you meant all of them.”

“You didn’t say it, but you thought it, right?”

When I press her like that, Sendai-san admits, “Yeah, I did,” then asks, “…So if not all, how many should I undo?”

“One. The second button from the top.”

“…And why do I have to undo it?”

“Because, Sendai-san, you always undo the second button when you come here.”

“If you want me to, then stop staring at it.”

“I wasn’t staring.”

“You were staring the last time I came too.”

“I wasn’t.”

I correct her. I hadn’t intended to stare — even last time, I don’t think I was.

“Well, if you insist that much, fine. Let’s say you weren’t. So, just one button then?”

She presses the point, looking at me. As if she’d ever unfasten more just because I told her to. The third button is flexible — sometimes allowed, sometimes not. I don’t know what kind of day this is, and I don’t want her to undo it nor to expect that she will.

“I don’t know how many buttons you feel like undoing, but it doesn’t have to be two or three.”

“If that’s fine, then okay.”

She says it lightly, but still doesn’t move.

“Command. Hurry up and undo it.”

At that, the stubborn button finally comes undone.

“This okay?”

“Yeah.”

With the second button undone, she looks like the Sendai-san I always see in this room. Still, something is off — she’s different from before summer vacation. I can’t openly stare, but I also can’t look away. Like a spot-the-difference puzzle, my eyes lock onto her.

“What?”

Her voice is puzzled. Her reactions in moments like this are always the same. But not being able to name what feels wrong bothers me.

“Want me to do your hair again?”

She tosses the suggestion at me while I sit quiet, and it hooks in my mind. On the first day I called her over in September she braided my hair. But that isn’t the source of this odd feeling. I look at her hair. With the uniform she’s wearing it half-up like she does now, so she should be the “usual Sendai-san.” During summer, though, she often wore it down, and my memories blur the two. That must be why everything feels mismatched.

“Forget my hair. You undo yours.”

“Why?”

“No reason. It’s a command. Undoing is easy, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

She lets her hair down. Because it had been tied, it doesn’t fall perfectly straight; unlike in summer it waves softly. In my head, summer and the present mesh together just right.

“Then just do what you usually do.”

I’ve run out of commands, so I hand the remaining time over to Sendai-san.

“What do you mean, ‘what I usually do’?”

“Talk about something.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Hmm, let’s see.”

She hums in thought. While she’s thinking, my mind drifts back to summer’s last day — August 31st. The end of that unusual summer lingers with me. I hadn’t marked it in any calendar, but it’s there: my back pressed to the floor without either of us forcing the other, my vision filled with Sendai-san. Her lips touched me, her hands did too.

In short, we nearly broke our rule of “no sex.”

“Then, one question.”

Her bright voice snaps me out of summer and back to the present.

“Miyagi, what university are you applying to? At this point you must have decided, right?”

Though I said she could talk about anything, that wasn’t a good choice. It’s a topic I don’t want to touch, and my brow furrows before I can stop it. She probably knows I don’t want to talk about this — which is exactly why she asked.

“You’re the one who told me to talk about something, Miyagi, so answer.”

It’s not that I haven’t decided at all — just that my choice is vague, and that vagueness makes it hard to say aloud. But it’s not something worth hiding. Besides, she’ll find out eventually. Regretting my poor prompt, I name a local university.

“What about you, Sendai-san?”

I don’t particularly want to know, but silence would hang heavy if I don’t ask.

“An out-of-prefecture university.”

She says it curtly, then adds the name.

“Are you serious?”

The one she names isn’t the sort you get into by being “a bit smart.” As far as I know, nobody from our high school has ever gone there. I’m sure Sendai-san wouldn’t get in either.

“Just kidding. I aimed for it, but there’s no way.”

She smiles.

“You aimed for it?”

“Even though I knew it was impossible.”

I’d thought she was joking, but since she doesn’t deny it, she really had intended to apply. I don’t know why she aimed so high, but she’s been going earnestly to prep school, so maybe she still wants it.

“You’re the only one I’ve told. Don’t tell anyone else, okay?”

“I won’t. I mean, the rule is we don’t talk about what happens here to anyone.”

“Right.”

Honestly, more secrets like this are troublesome. We already have enough between us; we don’t need more. The more they pile up, the heavier they feel, and the harder it becomes to move. It feels like I won’t be able to leave Sendai-san’s side.

“So where are you actually applying?”

Wanting to dilute the weight of the secret I just learned, I ask, and she names another out-of-prefecture university — one she could realistically get into. I can tell she’s serious.

Even so.

Given her grades, it was only natural, and I had already suspected as much, but actually hearing her say out loud that she was going to a university outside the prefecture didn’t feel good.

Sharing a new secret with Sendai-san also weighed on me, but more than that, the fact of the university she was actually applying to filled my head. It was as if that fact were scraping away at some part of my heart, leaving me restless and unsettled.

“Hey, Miyagi. You should apply to the same university as me.”

As if it were nothing at all, Sendai-san thrust an impossible demand onto me. Considering my grades, it wasn’t the kind of university I could get into easily.

“Don’t say things so carelessly. There’s no way I could get in.”

“That’s not true.”

“I don’t want to take an exam I’ll just fail anyway.”

“You don’t know if you’ll fail until you try. You can apply to backups too. You’ve been studying seriously lately, and if you work a little harder, I think you could make it.”

“There’s no point in us going to the same university.”

“Maybe, but if you can go, it’s better to go to a good university, right?”

“Absolutely impossible.”

I had no desire to work that hard just to get into a good university. Besides, the time I spent with Sendai-san would only last until graduation. So even if we did go to the same university, it wouldn’t matter. She must have known that as well. The fact that she was trying to leave the prefecture didn’t matter to me. Yes, not at all. Not in the slightest.

“Enough about this. Next command.”

It wasn’t that I had a specific command in mind. I just didn’t want to let this boring conversation about our futures drag on, so I tried to come up with an order I could give her right now.

“You’re still going to give me commands?”

“Yeah, so listen.”

“Go ahead, anything you like.”

She spoke without bothering to hide her expression, which said she still wanted to talk. I thought. A command, a command. Something harmless. I searched for some filler command, but nothing came to mind. Still, I couldn’t just sit there in silence. If I didn’t say something soon, she would start some unnecessary topic again.

I shut my textbook, turned my eyes away from Sendai-san sitting in front of me, and let them roam the room. Bed, closet, dresser. My gaze landed on the bookshelf, and I decided on my command.

“Read a book.”

“Fine, but which one?”

“Something boring.”

“Not something interesting?”

“Boring books make me sleepy.”

“Oh, I see.”

Realizing she was being used as a lullaby, Sendai-san stood up, went to the bookshelf, and without hesitation picked one book before sitting down by the bed.

“This okay?”

The book in her hand was a novel I’d bought because the protagonist of a manga had liked it, but I hadn’t found it interesting and had never finished it.

“Read that.”

I sat on the bed and gave my command.

“Got it.”

Her slender fingers opened the novel that had been gathering dust on the shelf. From the side where the pillow was, I could see her profile as she sat on the floor with her legs tucked to the side. Pages turned, and her voice recited the story I had never found interesting. I had given commands like this many times before, and Sendai-san read just as smoothly as always. Her voice, neither too loud nor too soft, fit this room perfectly. Softer than when I heard it in the classroom, it was kind to the ears — a good voice, I thought.

With the top two buttons of her blouse undone, reading a book, Sendai-san looked no different from before summer vacation. Usually, because I didn’t find the story interesting, I would soon want to lie down, and sleep would follow. But today, I couldn’t drift off the way I usually would. I couldn’t even bring myself to lie down.

It wasn’t Sendai-san’s fault.

The problem was mine.

On the day she braided my hair, I had decided — and told her — that my time with Sendai-san in this room would last only until graduation. So after we graduated, I wouldn’t be able to hear this voice anymore.

It was my own decision, but when she mentioned “a university outside the prefecture,” the reality of her leaving for somewhere far away after graduation became undeniable, and that tiny fact suddenly weighed on me. I should have already understood that there would be no chance encounters with her around town anymore, but until now, I hadn’t really grasped it.

“Weren’t you going to sleep?”

The dull story cut off abruptly, replaced by her words, addressing how I still sat on the bed without lying down.

“I am, so keep reading.”

I lay down on the bed, though I felt no sign of drowsiness at all. Then, Sendai-san’s hand reached out. Without hesitation, that hand stroked my hair, and I pushed it away.

“Keep reading.”

Without replying, she resumed the story. Her clear voice brushed against my ears. Since I wasn’t sleepy, I didn’t close my eyes and instead kept looking at her. Her neat face was partly covered by her hair, and I thought it was in the way. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her to undo it. When I leaned my body toward where she sat on the floor, her voice came a little closer.

My gaze fixed on the undone buttons. For now, only a little of her collarbone showed, but I had seen beyond that. During the hotter summer vacation. When I gave the order to undress, she had obediently taken her clothes off. It had been a command she had forced me into giving, but still — something like that would never happen again, and I would never see her body again.

And that was fine.

Whether we went to different universities, whether I never saw her body again, it didn’t matter to me. University seemed even more boring than the story being read aloud now. I reached out and tugged at her hair.

“Where were you looking?”

I thought she might complain, “Ow, that hurts,” but instead she said something different.

“I was just looking at you because you’re right there.”

I voiced the simple truth, and she let out a doubtful-sounding “Hmm.” But she didn’t press further. She put the novel down on the bed, turned toward me, and let out a small sigh. Then she tugged on my bangs.

“Close your eyes. You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Her hand covered my eyes. The bright room went dark, and I could see nothing. I grabbed her hand and pulled it away. She was there, right in my line of sight. Our eyes met — unintentionally. Too close. Closer than before. Startled, I let go of her hand, and it hit the novel that had been resting nearby. With a thump, the book fell, but she didn’t pick it up.

“Sendai-san, move back a little.”

“You’re the one who moved closer, Miyagi.”

I had been the one to lean in first. That much I admitted. But I hadn’t meant to get this close. Somehow, Sendai-san was now leaning over me, peering down.

“Even so, you’re the one closing in too, aren’t you?”

“Am I?”

“Of course you are. Also, you don’t have to read this close.”

I gave her shoulder a light push, but she didn’t budge. Her hand brushed my earlobe. Softly stroking, pinching, tugging. Her fingers trailed behind my ear, unbearably ticklish. Her touch, so reminiscent of summer, lingered gently, and I slapped her arm.

“Sorry.”

Looking slightly surprised, she apologized immediately, then sat down flat on the floor.

“Pick it up.”

When I pointed to the fallen book, she obediently picked it up. She flipped quickly through the pages until she found the place where the story must have left off.

“I’ll keep reading, then.”

She said it flatly.

“You don’t need to anymore.”

“You’re not going to sleep?”

“I’m not.”

Strictly speaking, I couldn’t sleep — but there was no need to say that. I took the book from her and set it on the pillow. Though my homework lay unfinished, I didn’t get out of bed. Left without anything to do, she didn’t return to the table either. Because the command had ended halfway, the room felt unusually quiet. It wasn’t a pleasant silence, either.

I couldn’t just sit in it. My fingers, restless, tapped at the book. The faint tapping sounds were the only thing that broke the stillness. Sendai-san leaned back against the bed, using it as a backrest. From up here on the bed, I could see the crown of her head, which I usually couldn’t. As I thought about how I could touch it if I reached out, she suddenly said, “Oh, right,” as if remembering something, and went on.

“Had your class decided what to do for the culture festival, Miyagi?”

An event scheduled for next month had just come up in conversation, and I latched onto it.

“Not yet. What about your class, Sendai-san?”

“My class didn’t have much motivation, so it looked like we’d just fudge it with some kind of display.”

 “That sounds nice.”

The sudden conversation felt far better than sitting in silence together, so I kept it going without thinking. If we could talk this calmly, I thought, I wished she’d started much earlier. It was much better than talking about troublesome entrance exams. Things were still a little awkward, but we were getting closer to our usual selves.

“Wasn’t your class like that, Miyagi?”

“Since it was the last culture festival of high school, everyone said we should do something memorable, and they were all fired up.”

I thought it was a pain. I had said “everyone,” but in reality only about half the class was excited and discussing plans. The other half probably thought something simple would be fine, but since the more visible members were leading the discussion, no one complained.

“Fired up, huh? You too, Miyagi?”

“Not really. I was fine with keeping it simple.”

“It was easier that way.”

Sendai-san turned around and smiled. It would have been nice if we’d been in the same class, I almost said to her gentle smile, but I swallowed the words.

“Shall we get back to the homework now?”

Sendai-san looked down at the table.

“I don’t want to.”

“Then, want to continue the book instead?”

“...On second thought, I’ll do the homework.”

“Then come over here.”

“I was going to anyway.”

I got down from the bed and, after a short hesitation, sat down across from Sendai-san.

✧✧✧✧

Going to university.

Sendai-san had been saying that since before summer vacation, and even without asking, I had assumed she would choose a university outside the prefecture. All I had done was hear from her what I’d already predicted.

That was all it was.

But it still stung a little.

To be precise, the shock wasn’t that she had said it, but that I couldn’t stop thinking about it even though it was exactly what I’d expected. I could guess why she wanted to go outside the prefecture, from what I’d seen when we went to her house during summer vacation. She wanted to get out of her house. That’s what I thought it came down to. If that was the reason, there was nothing I could do to change her path. No— that wasn’t right.

It wasn’t that I wanted to change her path, and there was no point in doing so anyway. Our relationship would end when we graduated from high school. Her future was something she should decide for herself, not something I should meddle with. I knew that, and yet, after she left, I still couldn’t move. I just sat in the spot where she had been sitting. We hadn’t eaten dinner together, so I still hadn’t eaten.

Even so, I wasn’t hungry.

I slowly got to my feet, grabbed a change of clothes, and headed for the bathroom. If I soaked in the bath too long, I’d just end up overthinking, so I showered and then lay down on my bed. At that rate, I’d get into the local university I was aiming for. I didn’t have the grades to get into the same one as Sendai-san, but I wasn’t aiming for a particularly good school, so it was fine.

Besides, Sendai-san interfered too much in my affairs.

Even though she didn’t know my exact grades, she said things like, “Let’s go to the same university.” If I told my father I wanted to go outside the prefecture, he’d probably let me, but with my current grades there was no way I could get into the same university as her. Even with the studying we did together over summer, I thought it would still be difficult. Once the midterm results came out next month, even Sendai-san would admit it was impossible. Taking an exam for a university I had no chance of getting into felt pointless.

“...Why was I even thinking about this so seriously?”

I rolled over and switched off the light. Dad wasn’t coming home that night either. Thinking about how not just my room but the whole house was dark made me feel a little lonely.

“I’m fine.” I wasn’t scared. I whispered that in my mind and closed my eyes. It was earlier than I usually went to sleep, so I wasn’t sleepy at all. Even so, I squeezed my eyes shut. One sheep, two sheep.

I relied on the old method of counting sheep, but sleep never came. In the end I only dozed lightly without falling into a deep sleep, and morning arrived. With no choice, I headed to school.

Even after entering the classroom, my sleep-deprived head didn’t clear. One hour of class passed, then two, but my head stayed hazy, like it was wrapped in fog. I didn’t remember what the teacher had said. Before I knew it, it was already the third break, and Maika, who had come with Ami, called out to me.

“Shiori, let’s go.” 

“Huh?”

“Next is in the AV room,” Maika said, and Ami chimed in, “Hurry, hurry.” 

“Ah, yeah.”

I hurriedly pulled out my textbook and notebook and stood up. Without even checking for forgotten items, Maika grabbed my arm.

“Come on, quickly.”

Together with the two of them, I left the classroom and walked down the hallway, sluggishly. I wasn’t the type to go to bed early and wake up early, but it was rare for me to be this groggy from lack of sleep—the whole morning felt wasted. The reason I couldn’t shake it off was Sendai-san.

She said things like she was deciding my future, and now I couldn’t even focus in class because I was so tired. It really made me mad.

I stamped my foot down hard in frustration; the hallway echoed with a sharp thunk. The sound cleared my foggy head a little, so I stamped again, and this time Maika’s voice called out.

“Shiori, ahead—watch out.” 

"Ahead?”

 “This way!”

Maika pulled on my arm. My body tilted slightly, and I shifted my attention forward. I met Sendai-san’s eyes.

――――What? Sendai-san?

Why?

No, it wasn’t strange.

She was at school, so it isn’t weird for her to be in the hallway. But I had never suddenly found her right next to me like this. Surprised by the overlap of ordinary and extraordinary, my shoulder collided with hers.

“Ah!”

It wasn’t just a brush—we collided shoulder to shoulder hard enough to hurt. Unable to steady myself after Maika pulled me, I nearly fell, and a sound escaped me.

“Shiori, are you okay?” Maika steadied me, and I looked at her. “I’m fine,” I answered, regaining my balance. When I turned my gaze back from Maika to Sendai-san, I also saw Ibaraki-san and her friends beside her.

“Hazuki, are you okay?”

 “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Ibaraki-san had the same sort of exchange with Sendai-san that I’d just had with Maika, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away. The place beside Sendai-san was supposed to be mine.

That thought popped into my head, and I tried to push it away, when a familiar voice said, “Sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Sendai-san asked in the friendly voice she hardly ever used in my room, staring right at me. I didn’t like that side of her. I turned my eyes away.

“...I’m fine. Sorry, I was just spacing out.”

If you asked whose fault it was, it was probably mine. I had been facing forward but not really looking. I hadn’t noticed the warning voice telling me I was about to bump into someone. If I traced the cause, it led back to Sendai-san, but I couldn’t say that here.

“You okay?”

For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to call her “Sendai-san,” so I just repeated the word that had been bouncing around between people here.

“I’m fine. I’ll pick it up.”

Sendai-san said that, then picked up the textbooks scattered on the floor. Watching her, I realized I was holding neither my textbook nor my notebook.

“Sorry. I’ll get them myself.”

I crouched down to pick up my notebook. When I reached for my pencil case, Sendai-san grabbed my wrist.

“I’ll get it.”

She said it gently. But she didn’t let go of my wrist. She was holding it hard enough to hurt.

“I’ll get it myself.”

If this had been my room, I could have firmly said, Let go. But at school, I chose gentler words to ask her to release me.

“Ah, sorry.”

The hand gripping my wrist so tightly finally let go.

“Is that everything?”

She handed me the textbooks she’d picked up and asked.

“Yeah, that’s all. Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She smiled like a perfectly crafted doll, then walked off. She disappeared from sight, and only Ibaraki-san’s voice echoed down the hallway. I patted the dust off my textbook and notebook. I patted my pencil case as well, then called out to Ami and Maika, “Let’s go.”

“――――Did you do something to Sendai-san?”

Maika looked at me suspiciously.

“Do something?”

“She was staring at you like crazy, and she grabbed your arm too. Did you do something?”

“Maybe it hurt? We bumped into each other pretty hard.”

I didn’t think she was staring that much. But my wrist where she had grabbed me still hurt. There was no mark left. I didn’t know why she had done that. I looked at my wrist. Nothing about it had changed from before we bumped into each other.

I almost thought, I wish something permanent had been left behind, but then I sighed.