Volume 4 Extra 1

Around this time last year, it was spring break.

This year, I’m spending these dangling, in-between days that aren’t spring break.

I don’t know what to call this period between the end of high school graduation and the start of the university entrance ceremony,

and I don’t know what I am now that high school is over but I still can’t call myself a university student.

I let out a sigh and look around the room full of cardboard boxes while sitting on the floor.

This kind of future was completely outside my expectations.

I had planned to go to a local university and commute from this room.

But I ended up going to the same university as Maika, which meant leaving here, and instead of entering the dorm, things took a different turn. Now I have to prepare to move out of this room.

Since the university is outside the prefecture, I have no choice but to move,

but I never thought the move would be such a big deal.

Living with Sendai-san instead of in the dorm, sharing a place.

Because my plans changed, I need more stuff than I would have for the dorm, and my room is gradually filling up with cardboard boxes.

Big things will be bought at the new place, but there’s still a fair amount I have to take.

To be honest, it’s a pain.

If possible, I don’t want to pack at all.

Dad told me I could just have the moving company pack everything,

but I don’t want anyone touching the things in this room.

That means I have no choice but to pack myself, and that’s exactly what I’m doing now, stuffing things into cardboard boxes.

The problem is that no matter how much I pack, the packing never ends.

The reason is obvious: I started packing before deciding what to take.

But I can’t help it, since I don’t really know what I’ll need at the new place.

“What should I do with the books…”

I stand up and face the bookshelf.

Taking everything isn’t realistic, and it’s obvious more books will pile up at the new place too.

Thinking that way, I have no choice but to pick only the books I absolutely want to bring.

It’s hard.

There are so many books I want to reread.

This room isn’t disappearing, so the books I leave behind will stay here forever.

Still, if I don’t come back, I won’t be able to read them, and that makes it impossible to choose which ones to leave.

“I wish I could take them all.”

Even with books, I feel guilty about abandoning them.

If I had chosen to stay here, I wouldn’t have to abandon any books or pack anything.

But I didn’t choose that future.

Thanks to that, I’m stuck continuing the task of sorting what to take and what to leave behind.

I stare at the spines of the books.

To the book on the far right, I say, “I’m taking you.”

To the one next to it, “I’m taking you too,” and to the next, “You’re staying.”

It’s depressing.

Sorting books like this makes me feel like someday I’ll be sorted and left behind by Sendai-san too.

The room-sharing period is four years.

But there’s a chance it won’t even last four years.

I slap my cheeks.

If I think about it, I just get anxious before anything has even started.

But right now, there’s something more urgent than worrying about the four years after entering university, and that’s packing.

I pull out the books I decided to take and put them in a cardboard box.

I decide again which books to take and which to leave, and pack a few more into the box.

Repeating that, my hand stops on one manga volume.

“…This is the one Sendai-san read out loud the first time she came here, right?”

She said it was erotic and not something to read out loud.

I had ordered Sendai-san to read the manga aloud, and she complained but did it.

That day, I bought Sendai-san’s after-school time for five thousand yen.

I pull out the manga she had complained about from the shelf.

I haven’t decided to take it, but for now I place it on top of the cardboard box that contains the crocodile tissue cover.

“Taking a little break.”

Packing isn’t progressing at all.

I really don’t have time to rest, but I’m not motivated.

I sit down on the floor, and my eyes land on an album that’s been left out.

It’s one where I printed the best photos taken with a digital camera or phone and organized them; it contains lots of past versions of me.

Baby me.

Mom is in the picture.

My first birthday.

Mom is in the picture.

My second birthday.

Mom is in the picture.

I haven’t opened it in a long time, but I remember what photos are inside.

There are also entrance and graduation ceremony photos, and Mom is in a lot of them.

But at some point, Mom, who had always been there, disappears.

Dad, who appeared occasionally, disappears too, and the past breaks off.

Photos stopped being printed, photos stopped being taken altogether, and I stopped looking at the album.

After a moment’s hesitation, I place the album on top of a cardboard box.

Packing is bad because things I don’t usually see catch my eye.

My hands keep stopping, it never ends, and my heart just gets heavier and heavier.

“Deciding what to take is such a pain.”

In this room there’s even Sendai-san’s school blouse, and I’m constantly unsure what to bring.

Plus, the moving day is still a bit away and not immediate, so if I pack everything now, I won’t have clothes to wear tomorrow.

I slowly stand up and flop onto the bed.

A room full of cardboard boxes feels suffocating.

I want to be freed from this ordeal called packing soon.

I let out one sigh, pick up the black cat plush sitting beside my pillow, stroke its head, and talk to it.

“…Are you moving with me?”

The black cat doesn’t answer.

If it were Sendai-san, who brought this black cat as a Christmas present, she’d probably say something, but the black cat is silent.

I think if it talked to me even a little, my mood might lift, but no matter what I ask, it never replies.

I put the black cat back where it was and close my eyes.

I’m not sleepy, but floating in the darkness created by my eyelids makes me feel drowsy.

My consciousness sinks and rises.

I hear my phone ringing.

Once, twice, three times.

The ringtone doesn’t stop.

It rings over and over without ending.

Reluctantly, I open my eyes, sit up, stand, go to the table, pick up the phone, and answer the call.

“Sendai-san, you’re so persistent.”

I complain, looking at the name displayed on my phone screen.

“Isn’t that a little rude right off the bat? I called because I was worried.”

“I don’t think there’s anything worth worrying about enough to call me specially.”

I sit on the edge of the bed and lightly tap the floor with my toes.

“I was afraid you might not make it to the entrance ceremony, Miyagi.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m worried your moving preparations won’t be ready in time. Should I come help?”

Sendai-san says it in a voice that is neither particularly light nor heavy.

I’m not sure if she’s genuinely worried, but it doesn’t sound like a joke either.

In any case, I don’t need help. I tell her I can manage alone.

“I’m fine. I’ve already booked the movers, so everything will be ready on time, and I’m packing.”

“I see. Packing is such a hassle, and I figured you might say the entrance ceremony doesn’t matter anyway, so I was concerned.”

She isn’t entirely wrong, which makes Sendai-san annoyingly perceptive.

Packing really is nothing but trouble.

I’ve never been fond of entrance ceremonies to begin with.

Entrance ceremonies and graduation ceremonies feel like two sides of the same coin, connecting beginnings and endings.

Since everything that begins must someday end, neither feels particularly enjoyable.

The closer the entrance ceremony gets, the more everything around me seems to lose its color.

It feels as though gloomy clouds are hanging over me, threatening to pour rain at any moment and sink my mood even lower.

“By the way, have you told Utsunomiya and the others that we’re going to be roommates?”

Sendai-san says something that drags my spirits down further.

“That has nothing to do with you, Sendai-san.”

I still don’t know how to explain it to Maika and Ami, so I’ve been letting them believe I’m sticking to the original plan of living in the dorm.

I’d love to keep quiet about the room-sharing and just pretend I’m in the dorm, but since Maika is going to the same university, I can’t stay silent forever.

If I tell them I’m sharing a place, they’ll definitely demand to know with whom.

That’s why I’m searching for a harmless, neutral reason that led me to rooming with Sendai-san.

“What about you, Sendai-san? Have you told Ibaraki-san and the others about me?”

I don’t think I’m the only one struggling.

Sendai-san must also have to explain to her friends why she’s suddenly living with someone she supposedly had no connection with at school.

“What would you like me to say, Miyagi?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I told my friends I’m sharing with someone, but I kept the identity vague. They’re all staying around here, so I don’t absolutely have to tell them. Besides, if I said it was you, they’d probably get excited and want to come over to play. But if you think it’s better to tell them, I will. What do you want?”

Her voice sounds exactly the same as always, showing no trace of worry.

“…You don’t have to say anything.”

That’s unfair.

If Ibaraki-san and the others came over, it would be me who’d be inconvenienced, not Sendai-san.

Asking a question when the answer is already decided feels downright mean.

“You probably still haven’t told them either, right, Miyagi?”

“That pisses me off.”

Sendai-san really is unfair.

In the end, I’m the only one worrying.

But for now, I can still get by without telling Maika and Ami, so I’ll just postpone the problem.

“Well, I can’t help you tell Utsunomiya and the others about the room-sharing, but I can help with packing anytime. Just say the word.”

“Your offer is enough.”

Packing feels a lot like sorting through memories.

It’s a pain, but I don’t want help.

I don’t want anyone else touching these things, so I want to clean up this messy room myself.

“Miyagi.”

Sendai-san calls my name softly.

“What?”

“…I’ll be waiting for you over there first.”

A gentle voice comes through the phone.

“Yeah.”

I’m full of worries.

So many anxieties about living with Sendai-san are rolling around inside me that I could find them without even looking.

But I decided this myself.

Living with Sendai-san probably won’t be all good things, but there should be fun moments too.

My anxiety hasn’t disappeared, but I don’t regret choosing the envelope.

“See you.”

Sendai-san says, and I reply, “See you.”

The call ends, and Sendai-san’s voice vanishes.

I pick up the black cat plush lounging beside my pillow.

“Shall we go together?”

I stand and look around the room full of cardboard boxes with the black cat in my arms.

On the day of my high school entrance ceremony, I never imagined a day like this would come.

Back then, when even becoming a university student felt uncertain, I vaguely thought I would just keep living forever in this empty house.

Then, in July of my second year, by sheer chance and whim, Sendai-san started coming to this room.

Even in third year, she kept coming.

Then came the graduation ceremony that marked the boundary between us, and Sendai-san will never come here again.

Spring has come to this room, and the days of handing her five thousand yen and giving her orders are over.

The farewell to this room that Sendai-san visited countless times is drawing near, and the entrance ceremony is approaching.

But Sendai-san and I are not over.

Soon, a new life will begin.

In a room where someone is always there.