Volume 3 Episode 03

 Taking a book from the bookshelf and putting it back.

Sendai-san has been repeating this simple task under my orders. Sometimes, I hear her mutter, “It’s hot,” but I don’t respond. It’s true that, even though it’s mid-September, the days are still uncomfortably warm—but if I lower the air conditioner any further, I’ll end up getting cold.

“Organize the bookshelf.”

Today’s order is something anyone could do, and not even something I particularly wanted Sendai-san to handle. But careless commands can lead to excessive actions, so I have no choice but to give instructions that won’t make her overstep.

“Miyagi, what about this book?”

Sendai-san turns around, holding up a manga volume.

“Just put it wherever.”

I reply while sitting on the floor in front of the table.

I have my own preferences for how the books should be arranged—by genre, or with my favorites placed within easy reach. But there’s no need to tell Sendai-san that. I’ve asked her to organize the bookshelf several times before, and her arrangement is always practical and easy to use, so there’s nothing I need to correct.

“That’s the most troublesome answer,” she grumbles, putting the manga back on the shelf.

She seems to be the type who’s good at this sort of thing, and she’s efficient about it. It’s like watching her play a puzzle game, shifting the books’ positions and neatly filling in the gaps.

She seems like she’d be good at games, but she was actually terrible at them. I recall the one time we played a game together as I watch her work, and my gaze drifts to her ears.

In the end, Sendai-san never let me pierce her ears.

Piercings violate school rules, and the teachers would definitely scold us—but Ibaraki-san has them, and there are other girls who do too. Sendai-san, who always avoids drawing the teachers’ attention, will probably get them someday. If that’s the case, I don’t think it would matter if I were the one to pierce them.

But I knew she would never obey that order. Five thousand yen isn’t omnipotent.There are things it can’t buy or make happen. I understood that—but even now, I still want to put a hole in those untouched ears.

“By the way, what are you doing about college?”

Sendai-san asks without turning around.

“Doing about what?”

“If we end up applying to the same university, I can teach you how to study.”

“I’m not applying to the same one.”

Even if we went to the same university and spent time together like we do now, that would probably only last until graduation. Maybe even before that, Sendai-san would be the one to end things.

If that’s the case, it’s better to end it sooner.

It hurts less to end it myself than to be told it’s over.

“I see,” Sendai-san says in a voice that’s neither gloomy nor bright, filling the remaining gaps on the bookshelf.

“…But I’ll study. I’m a senior, after all—I have to.”

There’s no lie in what I say.

The homework I once made Sendai-san do is now something I complete myself, and I’ve already finished it for today. It’s not that I enjoy doing it, but there’s a workbook sitting on the table.

“Even if we’re applying to different universities, I can still teach you if there’s something you don’t understand.”

“Instead of worrying about me, Sendai-san, you should focus on your own studies.”

“I’m already doing my exam prep without you telling me.”

She replies without turning around.

Her arms, stretching out from the short sleeves of her summer blouse, look the same as they did during summer break. It’s hard to believe she walked all the way to my house under the sun; her skin remains pale and unblemished.

Back when her blouse had long sleeves, I left a mark on that arm.

Unlike that mark—which she said faded faster than expected—a piercing would last longer. If something visible remained, something that anyone could see, I feel like I could be at ease no matter who was beside her.

I don’t talk to Sendai-san at school, but I think it would be okay if there were at least one thing showing that a part of her time belongs to me.

I’m so clingy.

I know Sendai-san would never follow an order like “let me pierce your ears,” yet I’m too stubborn to let go of the idea. I’m no different from a child throwing a tantrum because they can’t get what they want.

“Miyagi, I’m done.”

With that, Sendai-san turns around.

Her arms, extending from her short-sleeved blouse, are as pale as ever, and her ears remain unpierced. The bookshelf behind her looks different than usual, but the manga and novels are neatly lined up.

“What’s your class doing for the cultural festival, Miyagi?” she asks, sitting down beside me.

“We’re doing a café.”

Third years are supposed to keep it modest.

The teachers never say it outright, but it’s an unspoken rule for the cultural festival. Probably because we’re supposed to focus on entrance exams. Still, every year there’s always one class that goes all out—and this year, it’s ours.

“Sounds like a hassle, both for prep and the actual day,” she says sympathetically.

“It is a hassle. There’s so much to prepare, and I’m already dreading it.”

“Are you making maid outfits or something?”

“It’s not a maid café, and it’s not that elaborate.”

“Aww, I was thinking of going if you were wearing a maid outfit,” she says, chuckling in a tone that doesn’t sound genuinely interested.

“If it were a maid café, I’d only do behind-the-scenes work.”

The class core members made the decision, so I didn’t object, but even a normal café feels like too much work. There’s no way I’d wear a maid outfit and serve Sendai-san. Absolutely not.

“So, you’re still doing waitress duty?”

“It’s on rotation.”

“Then maybe I’ll go see you after all.”

“Don’t come. Absolutely don’t.”

“You secretly want me to come.”

“No, I don’t. Don’t come.”

Sendai-san’s tone is teasing and amused, as if she’s just playing with me.

That side of her irritates me.

“Anyway, we’re starting café prep next week, so there’ll be days I’ll be late.”

I don’t have time to indulge her nonsense, so I tell her what she needs to know.

“So, no orders until the cultural festival?”

“Probably, if our schedules don’t match.”

There’s a midterm exam after the cultural festival, so even though we’re putting effort into the event, we won’t be preparing every single day. Still, it’ll be harder to align our schedules than before.

“Got it,” she says in her usual voice—and it makes my chest tighten.

Her class is doing a display, but they’ll still have after-school prep, and she has cram school too. Those are fixed parts of her schedule, and she won’t change them. So her “got it” is exactly what I expected. But somehow, I can’t see it as a good answer.

I clench my hand into a fist, then relax it.

The cultural festival prep and cram school—just those two things are enough to throw off our rhythm.

It’s only two weeks until the festival.

To be precise, a little less than two weeks.

Even if we can’t meet, it’s just a short break—like winter or spring vacation. We’ve gone that long without seeing each other before, and Sendai-san acting as usual should feel normal. The fact that I felt disappointed, even for a moment, is what’s strange.

I must be imagining it. There’s no way I’d feel lonely. And neither would Sendai-san.

“I wish it would all just end already.”

I flip through Sendai-san’s textbook, which was left on the table. Touching the familiar cover, as if it were mine, somehow soothes the turbulence inside me. The feeling that everything—cultural festival, midterms, entrance exams—is such a hassle and should just disappear , begins to fade.

“Hey, don’t flip through it like that,” she complains, poking me with her pen. When I keep flipping, she jabs me harder, and I finally pull my hand back.

What if we swapped textbooks?

On school days, I could use hers. But it’s clearly different from mine—filled with notes, in handwriting that isn’t mine. Anyone would notice right away. No, why am I even thinking about swapping them?

Maybe because we’ve been seeing each other even during summer break, her presence has become too normal. I’m getting sentimental about not seeing her for a while. That must be it.

I glance at Sendai-san, silently facing her textbook and workbook. Her blouse with two buttons undone, her tie. Her neatly braided hair, as always. I tug lightly on her slightly loosened tie.

“One more order. Take it off.”

“…Why? Are you planning to tie me up again?”

Sendai-san’s voice carries a clear note of suspicion.

“No, that’s not it.”

Unlike a piercing, a tie doesn’t leave a mark on the body. Since everyone uses the same kind, no one would notice unless either of us said something. This is that kind of order.

—Swap ties with Sendai-san.

A simple order that leaves no trace. I know it’s strange to want to swap something. Even so, just until the cultural festival. For a little while, I want to switch.

I touch my own tie and remove it, as if changing clothes in this empty room.

“Why are you taking off your tie, Miyagi? Wasn’t I the one supposed to take it off?”

Sendai-san asks, looking puzzled.

“Let’s swap. With yours.”

I place my removed tie on the table.

“…What’s the reason for swapping?”

“Doesn’t everyone sometimes want to swap things for no reason?”

“Normal people don’t want to swap for no reason.”

“You touch things for no reason, Sendai-san, so it’s fine if I want to swap for no reason too.”

'Doesn’t everyone sometimes want to touch things for no reason?'

That’s what she said when I asked why she grabbed my wrist in the hallway. If she thinks it’s fine to act without a reason, then it’s strange for her to make such a fuss about this. But she doesn’t move to take off her tie—she’s trying to pull an answer out of me.

“No reason, then?”

“Sendai-san, you’re so annoying. Just take off your tie already.”

Growing impatient, I tug firmly on her tie, and she responds in a half-hearted tone, “Fine, fine.”

She doesn’t seem entirely convinced by my lack of explanation, but Sendai-san removes her tie and loops it around my neck. A tie is just part of the uniform—the same for everyone.

It’s just a piece of cloth, nothing special. Yet the tie around my neck feels slightly heavier than my own.

“Satisfied?”

Sendai-san asks quietly, reaching for my tie on the table. But before her hand can touch it, I snatch it away. I’m not satisfied yet. There’s more to a uniform than just a tie.

“It’s a swap, so don’t take it.”

Making an obvious claim, Sendai-san reaches out, trying to grab the tie back from me.

“Let’s swap blouses too.”

Ties and blouses are the same— They’re both parts of the uniform, both just pieces of cloth. One or two pieces make no difference. So, it should be fine to swap blouses along with the ties. I know it’s a ridiculous argument, and Sendai-san will probably get angry.

This is the kind of order I should avoid. But I can’t stop myself from wanting to hear the answer I already know she’ll give.

“You mean take it off?”

Sendai-san freezes.

“If there’s a way to lend it without taking it off, then you don’t have to.”

“That’d be some kind of illusion.”

“Then take it off.”

I say curtly, handing her the tie. She takes it, rolls it up, and places it back on the table. I expected her to say something like, “Are you an idiot?” but she stays silent.

The order isn’t to take off her clothes—it’s to swap uniforms—so it’s questionable whether it breaks the rules. What’s okay and what’s not isn’t clearly divided.

If it’s within the rules, Sendai-san won’t refuse. But the boundaries blur in places, and the lines become uncertain. I wish she’d refuse the orders she should refuse from this tangled mess.

“It’s a swap, right?”

Sendai-san, who had been thinking silently, asks as if confirming.

“Yeah, a swap.”

“Fine, if it’s a swap.”

Sendai-san betrays my expectations easily, unbuttoning the third button of her blouse. Even if it’s a questionable order, this is one she should refuse.

She must know that—yet she accepts it. If she doesn’t call it a violation, I can’t help but go along, watching her buttons come undone. More decisively than during summer break, without a hint of hesitation, Sendai-san takes off her blouse. Unlike that time, there’s no conversation today.

Since she’s silent, I just stare at her. Her underwear is the same white as what I saw on that rainy day. I don’t remember if it’s the exact same one. Her chest, hidden by the fabric, looks well-shaped.

Come to think of it, that day during summer break when we went too far, Sendai-san touched my chest over my underwear. But I didn’t touch hers, so I feel like I got the short end of the stick. Right now, if I reached out just a little, I could touch her anywhere. Her soft chest, her smooth sides—I could touch them.

“Miyagi, hurry up and take yours off too.”

Interrupting my impure thoughts, Sendai-san holds out her blouse. When I don’t take it, her fingertip brushes my arm, and I grab her hand. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else, but I want to touch Sendai-san’s body.

Slowly, I slide my hand along her skin, letting my fingers trace her upper arm. When I press harder, my fingertips sink into skin softer than gummies but more elastic than marshmallows. But I can’t bring myself to touch her chest or sides. Before my hesitant fingers can wander elsewhere, Sendai-san’s arm slips away, and she hands me her blouse.

“It’s a swap, right? Hurry up and give me yours.”

Sendai-san says irritably. I place the blouse she gave me on the bed and retie the tie still around my neck. Then I stand and open the closet.

“Hey, Miyagi.”

Her voice scolds me for not handing over my blouse, but I don’t respond. I pick out a shirt from the closet and hand it to her.

“Here.”

“Wait, that’s cheating! Pulling out a new one?”

The shirt I hand her is a white blouse—the school’s designated uniform. Since this is my room, I can easily give her a blouse without taking off the one I’m wearing.

“It’s not cheating. Just put it on.”

“It’s totally cheating. You take yours off too.”

“I never said I’d swap the blouse I’m wearing.”

“…Miyagi, you’re so stingy.”

Sendai-san frowns, clearly displeased. But she quickly gives up, unfolding the blouse. Her resentful eyes glare at the fabric, then at me. She looks like she’s about to complain but says nothing, putting on my blouse and tying my tie.

The blouse has two buttons undone. Sendai-san tugs at the sleeves, looking uncomfortable. And then she mutters, “Stingy,” one more time.

✧✧✧✧✧

My neck feels restless. The tie is neither too tight nor too loose. Maybe it’s because the cloth around my neck isn’t mine that I feel so unsettled.

I tug lightly at the tie.

Sendai-san’s tie looks and feels exactly like mine. Maika and Ami didn’t even notice it was different, so to anyone else, it’s just a tie—no different from any other. Only Sendai-san and I know it isn’t mine.

“Shiori, stop staring at your tie and look ahead. It’s dangerous.”

Maika’s voice pulls on my arm. My focus on the tie shifts outward, and the sounds I’d been blocking out flood in.

The voices of people passing by. The noise of cars driving. My head fills with all the sounds echoing in my ears, and I remember that I’m on my way to the shopping mall. We’re going shopping, right?

I let go of the tie and look ahead.

The cultural festival, which is nothing but a hassle, is only a few days away. Even though I’m not enthusiastic about it, I’ve been caught up in the preparations. Today, someone said they wanted to decorate the signboard more, so I’m sacrificing my after-school time for shopping.

“If you space out, you’ll bump into someone again, like you did with Sendai-san,” Ami says with a laugh, and Maika lets out an exasperated sigh.

“It’s fine if you bump into a person, but it’s dangerous if you wander off the sidewalk and risk getting hit by a car. Be careful.”

“Sorry.”

The sidewalk, crowded with people in uniforms and suits, is so packed it wouldn’t be surprising to bump into someone. If it’s just a person, it’s usually fine—unless they’re strange—but a car is another story. I don’t care how the cultural festival turns out, but getting hit by a car and ending up in the hospital would be a problem. Whether it’s outpatient visits or hospitalization, I don’t want to add such pointless plans to my schedule.

Of course, I’m not planning to step onto the road, but if I’m so distracted that I forget I’m heading to the shopping mall, it wouldn’t be surprising if something like that happened.

I haven’t seen Sendai-san since then.

Because of cultural festival prep and her cram school, our schedules haven’t aligned. The few messages I sent got replies saying she had cram school, and the plans we postponed got buried under festival preparations. If I ended up in the hospital, those plans would just be delayed even further.

“Shiori, you’ve been staring at your tie a lot lately. Is something wrong?”

Maika points at my tie.

“Nothing, really. Just checking if I tied it properly.”

I take a big step forward, escaping Maika’s piercing gaze on my chest. But then, Ami slaps my shoulder with a force that makes it clear she’s not letting me off that easily.

“Suddenly caring about your appearance is suspicious. You never cared this much before.”

“It’s not suspicious. It just felt off, that’s all. Anyway, what are we buying again?”

I forcefully end the conversation—which I can’t answer anyway—while pushing thoughts of the tie, the source of my unease, out of my mind.

“I’ve got the list.”

Maika pulls a folded piece of paper from her skirt pocket. Peering at the scrap, which was clearly torn from a notebook just minutes ago, I see items written down that I don’t even recognize. Gathering everything will be a chore, but it’s still better than helping with the classroom tasks.

Grumbling here and there, we head toward the shopping mall.

It’s not as hot as midsummer, but my white blouse clings to my back. I couldn’t bring myself to wear Sendai-san’s blouse, so it’s tucked away in my closet—unlike the tie, which doesn’t bother me. Still, I can’t help but wonder what Sendai-san did with my tie and blouse.

I’ve seen her at school.

But just seeing her doesn’t tell me whether the uniform she’s wearing is hers or mine. I want to meet her and ask directly what she did with my uniform.

“I wish the cultural festival would just be over already.”

Ami reacts to my mumbled words.

“The prep’s a hassle, but the festival itself is fun, right? Right, Maika?”

“Yeah! It’s our last high school festival, so let’s check out a bunch of stuff.”

“…I don’t dislike it or anything.”

I answer half-heartedly to their excited voices.

I don’t hate the cultural festival itself. Last year was fun, and the year before that was decently enjoyable. It’s just that I don’t like getting swept up in that “let’s all have fun together” enthusiasm some people create.

I wish the core class members would just enjoy it among themselves instead of dragging everyone else in. If I didn’t have to do this shopping today, I could’ve invited Sendai-san over.

It’s too late to go home early now, but I want to.

As I get lost in these negative thoughts, Ami’s cheerful voice cuts through.

“Well, let’s take our time shopping and head back.”

“Ami, we’re not here for personal shopping, you know?”

Maika waves the list in front of her.

“Just do it casually, casually. Finish it quick and kill some time before heading back.”

“You’re being so careless again.”

“Running errands doesn’t need to be taken seriously. Right, Shiori?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

I’m not trying to mimic Ami’s carefree attitude, but there’s no point stressing over things I can’t change. It’s better to get this annoying shopping done quickly and have some fun with them before heading home.

We enter the shopping mall together.

Maika, list in hand, gathers the surprisingly large amount of obscure materials. Ami and I, reduced to bag-holders, trail behind her like mindless zombies, fulfilling our errand-running duties.

“Want to grab something to drink?”

Thanks to Maika, the shopping’s mostly done, and at Ami’s suggestion, our next destination is set: the food court.

Now, Ami takes the lead.

We ride the escalator, chatting about nonsense, and as we pass a miscellaneous goods store, I stop.

It’s a shop I usually don’t pay attention to—one I’d normally walk right past. But an accessory in the display catches my eye: a silver chain necklace with a small charm that looks like it would suit Sendai-san.

Without thinking, I step closer, and Maika’s voice reaches me.

“What? Found something cute?”

“No.”

I answer quickly, and Ami, who was about to walk off, comes back to look at the necklace.

“Maybe you wanted an accessory for your birthday?”

“If you wanted something like that, you should’ve said so. We would’ve gotten it for you,” Maika says, sounding disappointed.

I love the pencil case and book cover I got from them for my birthday last week. I’ve been using the pencil case since the day I got it, and the book cover is wrapped around the novel I’m reading. They’re both things I wanted, so it’s not like I wish I’d gotten an accessory instead.

“It’s not that I want it. It just caught my eye.”

Yeah—it just caught my eye, and I thought of Sendai-san. The accessory’s price is something I could afford with the five thousand yen I pay her, but it’s not something I’d buy and give to her. I mean, there’s no way I could hand her a necklace, and I don’t have a reason to.

If I knew her birthday, maybe it could be an excuse—but I don’t, and I’ve never asked.

…Even if I did know, I probably wouldn’t give her anything.

We’re not the kind of friends who give each other presents. If I can’t give it to her, there’s no point in finding something that suits her.

“Wanna check it out?” Maika asks.

“No need,” I reply firmly.

“Then let’s go,” Ami says lightly, starting to walk. Maika asks, “You sure?” but I don’t change my answer. There’s no point in looking, so there’s no need to.

✧✧✧✧✧

Sendai-san didn’t come.

I wasn’t waiting yesterday or today, but during the two days of the cultural festival, she didn’t come to my class.

“I might go see you, Miyagi.”

The words she said the last time we met were clearly a joke, and I know she’s not the type to go out of her way to see me. So I wasn’t waiting. The last high school cultural festival was noisy and chaotic, and after it ended and cleanup was done, I only realized at the very end that Sendai-san never came.

I look around the classroom, where about half the students have already left.

It wasn’t something I was particularly eager about, but the classroom, now emptied of the daytime bustle after our mock café, feels strangely lonely in its quiet.

I think the festival itself was fun.

I went with Maika and the others to first-year classrooms we don’t usually visit and checked out events in the gym. The stuff I had to do for the café will probably become a good memory someday. The fact that Sendai-san wasn’t part of any of it isn’t something I should dwell on.

Her teasing words just lingered in my mind, but whether she came or not doesn’t matter. I had fun on my own, and I’m going to eat with Maika and the others before heading home, so Sendai-san doesn’t matter. I don’t care about her. She’s probably off at some after-party with Ibaraki-san and the others right now.

I look down at my bag, filled with festival remnants.

It holds the apron I wore as part of our café “uniform” and the matching T-shirt I had on until just now—shared with my classmates.

I’ll probably never use them again.

Like the summer uniform a third-year won’t need next summer, they’re unnecessary now. October has brought the transitional uniform, and the short-sleeved blouse has been replaced with a long-sleeved one.

In the end, I never wore Sendai-san’s blouse. Her uniform, still sleeping in my closet, will never have the chance to be worn.

“Shiori, you ready?” Maika calls from the corner of the classroom.

“Yeah.”

I retie Sendai-san’s tie and grab my bag.

“Then let’s go. I’m starving,” Ami says.

At her words, the three of us leave the classroom.

Unlike during the festival, the hallway is empty, and our footsteps echo loudly. As we descend the stairs and approach the shoe lockers, my phone buzzes in my bag.

“Yours, Shiori?”

I nod at Maika’s voice and stop. Pulling out my phone, I see Sendai-san’s name on the screen.

“Are you still at school?”

The short message is unlike any I’ve received from her before, and I grip the tie tightly.

She’s never asked me something like this.

What happens if I’m at school?

What if I’m not?

I can’t imagine what comes next from this first-ever message. But no matter how much I think about it, I can’t figure out what’s waiting, so I reply with just:

“I’m here.”

A new message arrives immediately.

“I’m waiting at the usual place.”

We’re not close enough at school for “the usual place” to mean much, but I know exactly where she means.

There’s one place at school where Sendai-san and I talked alone, just once.

The music prep room.

That’s surely where she’s waiting.

“Sorry, I forgot something. I need to grab it. Also, I can’t hang out today—my dad’s coming home early.”

It sounds forced, I know, but I can’t think of a better excuse, so I blurt it out quickly and turn on my heel.

“What?! Let’s go get your stuff together and come eat with us, Shiori!”

Ami’s voice chases after me, and I turn around.

“My dad told me to come home early. Really, I’m sorry. You two go ahead.”

I clap my hands together in a pleading gesture, and Maika says without hesitation, “If Shiori’s not going, we can do it another time. Right, Ami?”

“Yeah, let’s do it when our schedules align. For now, let’s just go get your stuff.”

“No, it’s fine, really. It might take a while, so I’ll go alone.”

I apologize again, and Ami groans before saying with a resigned look, “Alright, we’ll head out first. But when are you free, Shiori?”

“I’ll work around your schedules, so you two decide.”

“Got it. We’ll figure it out,” Maika says.

“Thanks. Sorry again.”

I wave to them and head toward the old school building.

The school, now mostly empty of students, feels eerie—like it’s connected to another world. The sun is setting, but it’s still bright outside, and the hallways aren’t too dark. Still, as I approach the old building, the number of students I see dwindles, and I quicken my pace, uneasy. My footsteps echo loudly, and I open the music prep room door as if escaping them. There, blending in among the instruments, is Sendai-san.

Under the light, as I approach her, she speaks.

“Been a while.”

We’ve passed each other in the hallways a few times, so it’s not like I haven’t seen her face in ages.

“We agreed not to talk at school.”

“Then you shouldn’t have come. If you’d replied that you weren’t coming, that would’ve been the end of it.”

Leaning against a shelf stacked with instruments, Sendai-san smiles.

“So, you have something to talk about, right? That’s why you called me here.”

'Not coming.'

I could’ve replied that way. But for some reason, I didn’t. My fingers typed ‘I’m here’ on their own, and my mouth came up with an excuse for not going to eat with Maika and the others.

But I don’t want to tell Sendai-san that.

“I thought we could enjoy the cultural festival together.”

She says it in a playful tone, tapping the instrument shelf lightly.

“The festival’s already over, and there’s nothing to enjoy in a place like this. That kind of joke isn’t funny. If you’ve got nothing to say, I’m leaving.”

“I’m not done talking.”

Sendai-san closes the distance between us. I step back instinctively, but she grabs the sleeve of my blouse.

“If I said I wanted to go around the festival with you, would you laugh, Miyagi?”

Her voice, not entirely serious but not quite joking either, makes it hard to respond. The air between us isn’t light enough for silence, so I answer curtly, “I’d laugh.”

“Yeah, I’d laugh too if you said the same thing.”

“…You didn’t even come to my class.”

Going around the festival together isn’t possible, and Sendai-san knows that. But if she really felt that way, she would’ve at least stopped by my class.

She didn’t come.

That’s the answer, I think.

She’s just teasing me, as always.

“We didn’t make a promise.”

Her blunt tone confirms I wasn’t wrong.

“I’m leaving.”

I push at Sendai-san’s shoulder—she’s still gripping my sleeve—but our distance stays too close, and she doesn’t let go.

“Umina and the others were being loud about wanting to go places.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why I didn’t go to your class.”

“I didn’t ask for a reason, and I don’t care.”

“I thought you’d want to know.”

“I don’t. Let go. I’m leaving.”

“I’m not letting go.”

Sendai-san closes the already narrow space between us even more. Her hand, which had only been holding my sleeve, now grabs my arm and pulls hard.

I didn’t mean to move, but I lose my balance and step closer to her. It’s just one step, maybe a few dozen centimeters, but she moves even closer, and our lips nearly touch.

It’s clearly not accidental—it’s intentional—and I reflexively turn my face away. But she doesn’t let me escape, leaning in again, so I shove her shoulders with all my strength.

“This kind of thing is off-limits, right?”

No more kissing. We never set that rule explicitly, but that’s how I see it.

“But during summer break, you kissed me too, Miyagi.”

“Summer break’s over. So, no more kissing.”

“You licked and bit my ear after summer break, didn’t you?”

“That’s got nothing to do with it.”

I say it firmly, and Sendai-san lets out a small “Huh,” then tugs on my tie.

“This is mine, isn’t it, Miyagi?”

“So what?”

“You wanted my tie and blouse so badly you made me take them off. If you’re doing that, don’t you think a kiss is fine?”

“I didn’t want them that badly, and I didn’t make you take them off. We just swapped.”

I say sharply, and she retorts, sounding dissatisfied.

“Then the swap’s over. Give me back my tie and blouse right now. Take them off here.”

“You know this blouse isn’t yours, right? I’ll give it back with the tie later, so that’s fine, isn’t it?”

“No.”

The uniforms have switched to the transitional ones now, and the blouse is long-sleeved. The short-sleeved blouse she was wearing isn’t here. She should know that just by looking, but she doesn’t budge.

“Give it back now.”

She keeps pressing, refusing to back down.

“Don’t order me.”

“It’s not an order. I’m just saying the swap’s over.”

“Then you’ll give me back my blouse now too, right?”

“Of course.”

“You’re wearing the transitional uniform. There’s no way you can.”

“I brought a blouse. The tie’s yours, so I can return it right away.”

“That’s a lie. You wouldn’t bring a blouse to the festival.”

“If you think it’s a lie, check for yourself. It’s in my bag over there. You can open it.”

Sendai-san turns toward the shelf with instruments, and following her gaze, I see her familiar bag.

Checking it seems pointless.

She’s so insistent that there’s probably a blouse in there. It wouldn’t surprise me if she planned this from the start and brought one.

“…What’s your goal?”

“Let me kiss you, and I’ll forgive you for not being able to swap right now.”

“That’s cheating. If we were swapping, you should’ve told me beforehand. I would’ve brought it today.”

“You’re the cheater, Miyagi. You didn’t take off your blouse last time.”

“I never said we’d swap the ones we were wearing, so it’s not cheating.”

“We didn’t set a time limit for the swap either, so it’s not cheating for me to ask for it back now. We’re even.”

Sendai-san isn’t acting like herself right now.

She’s never been like this.

She’s tried to get her way before, but she’s never pushed her desires this forcefully. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.

Because we couldn’t meet until the festival was over—

That’s the only reason I can think of, but I can’t believe she’d change over something like that.

“We’re not even. And we agreed not to talk at school. Follow the rules before saying stuff like that.”

Otherwise, I’ll lose it too.

If Sendai-san doesn’t stay grounded, I’ll be like a broken compass—unable to find my direction. I might end up heading somewhere I shouldn’t. And if it’s a place I can’t come back from, that’d be a problem. She’s going to leave me behind in a few months, so I don’t want to get any more involved.

“…It’s your fault for looking like you were having fun at the festival, Miyagi.”

She mutters softly.

“How do you know I looked like I was having fun?”

“I saw you.”

“You had fun too, didn’t you?”

I saw her laughing happily at last year’s festival.

I didn’t see her this year, but I’m sure it was the same.

But there’s no reply.

Instead, the grip on my arm loosens.

“If you really don’t want to be kissed, just run. I won’t kiss someone who hates it that much. If you escape, I’ll let you go and won’t chase you.”

“So you’re saying I have to choose?”

“Exactly. I’m letting you decide. I’ll follow your choice.”

“…You’re so unfair, Sendai-san.”

She never chooses.

She always leaves the decision to me and just watches. 

And the choices she gives me always have a predetermined answer.

“Decide quickly, or you won’t get to choose.”

With that, Sendai-san lets go of my hand.