Illustrations

Prologue

Cherry blossoms dance in the spring.

April.

Starting today, I’m a high school student.

The first day of a new school life.

Wearing a brand-new uniform, I had planned to start fresh with a positive

mindset—

“Fuku-chan, your nose hair’s showing.”

“For real?”

At the breakfast table.

I was quietly savoring my instant miso soup when my sister called me out.

I went to the bathroom, leaned in close to the mirror—and yeah, there it

was. A single, thin black strand. Nose hair. Normally, it stays out of sight,
but the moment you notice it, it’s just there.
After quickly snipping it off with a mail-order nose hair trimmer, I returned
to the table. My sister narrowed her eyes at me.

“I can’t believe little Fuku-chan is a high schooler now. Time flies so fast.”
Mogi Fukusuke.

That’s my name.

It’s an old-fashioned name that doesn’t really fit in the Reiwa era. Back in
elementary school, my plain looks earned me the nickname “Mob Fuku.”
That stopped after the class rep scolded everyone, saying, “It’s not nice to
give people weird nicknames!”

Not that I ever minded. Honestly, I kind of wanted to be called by a

nickname.

Middle school was the same—I stayed under the radar.

People barely even remembered my name.

Take Kato, the girl who sat next to me. She called me “Yomogi-kun” the
entire time. “I just love that scent,” she once said with a smile. What was I
even supposed to do with that? No
Idea. Grass. Yomogi means mugwort, after all. But for someone who
couldn’t even get my name right, she sure talked to me a lot.

“Maybe my goal for high school should be getting people to remember my

name.”

“That’s such a low bar! You were born a good-looking guy—aim higher!”

“No way. You’re too much of a doting sister, sis.”

Her overestimation of me was a real problem.

“At the very least, you should get yourself a girlfriend! It’s about time!”

Even the way she talks sounds straight out of the Showa era.

“Me? A girlfriend?”

“Don’t look so confused. Fuku-chan, you’re the type who quietly reads the
room and helps out when someone’s struggling. I know there are girls out
there who secretly like you!”

“That’s way too generous.”

Having my beautiful sister, who practically raised me, say all this was
making me itchy with embarrassment.

Of course, I wouldn’t mind having a cute girlfriend to spend my high school

life with, but—

“By the way, sis, isn’t it time for work?”

She glanced at the clock. “Oh crap,” she said, quickly standing up.

“I’ll clean up, so just go.”

“Thanks, Fuku-chan!”

“It’s chilly this morning, so wear a jacket. I left one by the door.”
“Much appreciated! A girl who appreciates these thoughtful little gestures is
definitely goingto show up for you! Mark my words!”

Tossing in that last unnecessary comment, my sister hurried out the door.

Girlfriend.

That was such a her kind of old-school word. Nobody really says it
anymore. It technically means “a girl friend,” but it’s not used that way,
which is probably why it faded out.

Whether it’s a girlfriend, or just a female friend—

Would someone like “Mob Fuku” ever get to meet one?

The entrance ceremony went by without a hitch, and class assignments

were posted on the school’s website.

Miyanomori High, the school I was now attending, was the newest public
high school in the prefecture. Everything about it—from the building to the
facilities—was brand new. I’d thought so during the school tour and the
entrance exams too, but the whole place was just sparkling. Even the
uniforms were stylish. Apparently, the girls’ uniforms were especially cute
and well-known across the country.

And now—

In this dazzling school, I was quietly walking along the edge of the hallway.
Class 1-1. My class.

The roster was full of names I didn’t recognize. Since this school was far
from my district, barely anyone from my middle school had enrolled here.

Except for one—

One name I knew very well.

“Yo, Fukusuke.”

As if he had read my mind, someone clapped me on the shoulder.

Standing there was the very embodiment of refreshing.

Like he had stepped right out of a deodorant commercial, radiating cool,

effortless charm.

His name was Fujisaki Yūsei.

Back in middle school, his towering 184 cm frame made him a star player
on the basketball team. And of course, he was insanely popular. At
graduation, underclassmen swarmed him,
Begging for the buttons off his uniform, causing quite the commotion.
Yūsei had prepared for it, though—he brought a hundred brand-new buttons
just in case. “I figured this might
Happen,” he said. In the end, I got one too, since he had extras.

His height wasn’t the only thing huge about him—his personality was too.
“Looks like we’re in the same class again, Fukusuke. Looking forward to
it.”

“Yeah, same here, Yūsei.”

Yūsei and I had been childhood friends since elementary school.

He moved into the apartment next door when we were in third grade, and
for some reason, he just kept talking to me. No idea what he saw in me, but
he always found a reason to chat.

He was easygoing despite his looks, which made him surprisingly easy to
talk to.

“Let’s head to class. This way.”

“How do you already know the layout?”

“I’ve been coming here since spring break for basketball practice.”

“That early? You already joined the team?”

“The coach came to my house as soon as I got accepted.”

Of course. He was the ace, after all. He’d probably be a star in high school
too.

Even now, as we walked, I could feel the girls glancing over. They weren’t
looking at me, of course—every eye was locked onto Yūsei, the human
spotlight.
Whether he noticed or not, Yūsei casually said, “The coach asked if I knew
any promising players. I put your name forward.”

“Huh? Me?”

I instinctively looked up at him. At 163 cm, I was often mistaken for his
younger brother when we stood next to each other.

“I’m good, though. I was planning on joining the go-home club.”

“What a waste. You’re really not playing basketball anymore?”

“…Yeah.”

Back in middle school, I was on the basketball team too.

But I wasn’t a “basketball player.”

I was a “basketball team member.”

For three years, I wore a jersey, sat on the bench, and cheered until my
voice was hoarse.

Still—
In the very last summer, in the very last game, I finally got to stand on the
court. The coach took pity on me. He couldn’t ignore how I’d been putting
in all that effort during practice, so he gave me this final moment. It was
like the “memorial pinch hitter” you’d see in summer Koshien.
Just three minutes and twenty-seven seconds.

I got to play for a brief moment in the fourth quarter.

That day, in that place, my basketball journey came to an end.

“Yūsei, this time, make it to nationals, alright? Do it for me too.”

“Yeah, leave it to me!”

My best friend clenched his large, bony hand into a fist. Miyano Mori’s
basketball team wasn’t exactly a powerhouse, but I’d heard they were
gaining momentum and steadily improving. If it was Yūsei, he’d surely
make it happen.

“Oh yeah, Fukusuke.”

“Hm?”

“Did those girls ever reach out to you?”

“Those girls? …Oh.”

He was talking about that time during spring break when we went to the
arcade together.

There had been a pair of girls struggling after one of them lost her wallet.
We helped them look for it, and eventually, we found it. They thanked us,
and that was supposed to be the end of it.
“Nah, I haven’t heard anything. Why?”

Yūsei made a face like he had expected that answer.

“They actually contacted me, asking if we could meet up.”

“Huh, so you exchanged IDs with them?”

“No, apparently, they looked me up on their own. Not sure how they did it.”

“…”

That’s… a little scary. The persistence of girls is terrifying.

But, well, considering how much of a looker Yūsei is, I can understand why
they wouldn’t want to miss their chance.

“So? What did you reply?”

“I blocked them.”

“Wait, what? Why?”

Yūsei sounded genuinely indignant.

“You were the one who suggested we help them find the wallet. You’re also
the one who actually found it. I didn’t do a thing. And yet, they only
reached out to me? That doesn’t sit right with me.”
“…”

No. No, Yūsei.

It makes perfect sense.

You’re the star. I’m just a background character. That’s all there is to it.

But the fact that you don’t even realize it, that you’re genuinely upset on
my behalf… That’s just who you are.

“Yūsei, you’re such a good guy.”

I said it with genuine feeling. Yūsei let out a small, wry smile.

“That’s my line, Fukusuke.”

“Huh? Why?”

“For the first two or three months after meeting someone, girls might look
at me. But in the end, the one they’ll really be watching… will be you.”

“???”

We kept talking as we entered the classroom.

Despite it being the first day, groups had already started forming. Some
students clustered together because they had gone to the same middle
school, while others had met through
Club activities. Conversations were already in full bloom.

And among them, one stood out—a flower in full bloom.

“Whoa… There’s an insanely beautiful girl here.”

I had known Yūsei for a long time, but this was the first time I’d ever heard
him compliment a girl like that.

At the center of a group of five—three girls and two boys—stood her.

“…!”
The moment I caught sight of her, my heart thumped—dokkun—so loudly
it felt like it jumped out of my chest.

The first thing that drew my eyes was her honey-sweet flaxen hair.

Even in Miyano Mori, a school with a relatively free-spirited atmosphere,

dyeing your hair was against the rules. But one look was enough to tell—it
wasn’t dyed. This wasn’t artificial.

Her maple syrup-like, glossy hair shimmered under the morning sunlight
streaming through the window.

Porcelain skin, slender arms and legs, soft curves that gave her an
unmistakable femininity.

Her aura felt like that of a modern high school girl, yet her ever-changing
expressions carried a childlike charm. Every time she laughed, the corners
of her eyes would dip into an adorable curve—it was almost unbelievable
how cute she was.

Cute.

No, too cute.

“…Hah.”

I finally realized—I had been holding my breath.

I had been so captivated that I forgot to breathe.

“…”

Wait, wait. Get a grip.

Hey, me. Mogi Fukusuke.

Can we talk this over for a second?

Falling for a girl that far out of reach—someone like me falling for her—
there’s no way that ends well. It’s a guaranteed heartbreak. Am I really
planning to spend the next three years in unrequited love? Following her
with my eyes during the sports festival, the cultural festival, the school trip,
Christmas, Valentine’s—just watching, powerless, as she gets a boyfriend?

No, stop. Please, stop—.

As I stood frozen in place, I overheard the murmurs of other guys around

me.

“A goddess… A real-life goddess just walked in.”

“We totally lucked out.”

“Spending a whole year in the same class as a girl like that? This is insane.”

The excitement was unreal.

It was only the first day, and she had already been crowned the school’s
idol, the girl every guy wanted as his girlfriend.
And then—

“Huh? Wait a second… could it be…?”

That sweet, affectionate gaze suddenly turned in my direction.

With just that one glance, I felt like I turned to stone. Pikiin—I swear I
heard something crack inside me, and my body refused to move.

She was looking at me—

No.

She was looking at the person beside me.

“Fujisaki Yūsei-kun? From Shibazono Middle? Are we in the same class?”

Like an excited puppy, she trotted right over.

“You know me?” Yūsei asked.

“Of course I do! I’m Kureha Yua, I was in the basketball team at Seishou
Middle. Nice to meet you!”

“Ohh, Seishou! The girls’ team there was pretty strong too!”

Their conversation immediately took off.

Moments like these made me feel the distance between us. Yūsei had been
my friend for years, but when it came to things like this—talking casually,
confidently, to a ridiculously cute girl on their first meeting—I couldn’t
help but admire him. And, at the same time, I hated the little twinge of
inferiority that came with it. Feeling inferior to my best friend? That only
made me feel even worse about myself.

“—By the way.”

After their lively discussion about basketball, Kureha suddenly shifted her
gaze toward me.

Her big, round eyes studied me intently.

Dokkun. My heart jumped again.

“And you are? Yūsei-kun’s friend?”

“Oh, yeah. Not just a friend—his best friend, Mogi Fukusuke.”

“Aha! What a lucky-sounding name! Nice to meet you!”

With a dazzling smile, she raised a hand and waved.

To me, it looked like a slow-motion scene from a video.

I needed to respond right away.

I knew that. But I was so stiff with nerves that I couldn’t get the words out
properly.
“…Y-yo—nice t-t-to meet you…”

That was all I could manage.

A normal girl would probably look at me weirdly. Maybe even laugh.

But Kureha was kind.

For a split second, she made a face like, huh?, but then she immediately
smiled and said, “Yup! Nice to meet you too!”

“Hey, Mogi-kun. Have we met before?”

“Huh?”

I took another good look at her.

She was stunning—so much so that it hurt to look at her directly.

But… no. I had no memory of ever meeting her.

There was no way I’d forget a girl like this.

“I don’t think so. I’d remember if we had.”

“…I see.”

Kureha nodded slightly, as if that settled the matter.

Then, she went back to chatting with Yūsei, and soon, other students joined
in, forming a lively circle around them.

This class was undoubtedly going to revolve around those two.

I wasn’t good with noisy groups, so I quietly stepped away.

And then—

“…Huh?”

Something flickered in the corner of my vision, making me stop in my

tracks.

Behind Kureha’s gleaming hair, I caught a glimpse of silky braids.

A girl.

She wore a cream-colored cardigan over her uniform shirt. It was a bit
oversized, and her small hands gripped the sleeves tightly.

Around her neck hung a pair of sky-blue headphones.

She was placing flowers into a vase. Stretching up on her toes, she carefully
set the water-filled vase on top of a locker.

Delicate, pure white flowers.

I had no idea what they were called, but they looked so humble, so
unassuming—yet she was carefully arranging them in the classroom.
No one noticed her.

Everyone was too captivated by Yūsei and Kureha—by these two dazzling
figures at the center of the class. No one saw the girl quietly tending to the
flowers.

She kept adjusting the bouquet’s position. Tilting her head, shifting it again.
Finally satisfied, she gave a small, pleased nod.
And then, she turned around.

“…Ah.”

“…Fweh?”

Our eyes met.

Or, more accurately, I caught a glimpse of her eyes from beneath her bangs.

I couldn’t really see her face.

Like a princess hidden behind a screen, her long bangs swayed, revealing
only glimpses of her round eyes.

She blinked twice—pachi, pachi—before quickly lowering her gaze in

embarrassment.

Her tiny, petal-like lips moved faintly.

—Good morning.
That’s what it looked like she was saying.

◆
That was my first contact with her.

A fleeting, delicate encounter—like a thin leaf drifting in the wind.

 Chapter 1

Three weeks had passed since high school started.

By this point, the social dynamics of the class had more or less settled.
Everyone had been assigned their “role” and naturally adapted their
behavior to fit it.

The school caste system.

That’s one way people put it, but to me, it felt less like a rigid hierarchy and
more like a form of casting.

The classroom was a stage, and certain students were cast as the “main
characters.”

Surrounding them were the “supporting roles.”

And beyond that, there were the nameless extras—the so-called “mob”
characters.

Take my best friend, Fujisaki Yūsei, for example.

He was, without a doubt, a main character.

Despite being a first-year, he had already earned a jersey and a spot on the
basketball team’s bench. The upperclassmen had taken a liking to him so
much that they even granted him the rare privilege of using the school
cafeteria—something usually off-limits for first-years because of the
unspoken rule that younger students should avoid crowding the space. He
stood out. Massively. He was so popular that even older girls would drop by
our classroom just to get a glimpse of him. At this point, he wasn’t just the
star of our class—he was practically the star of the entire school.

Everyone who existed on the stage that was school instinctively understood
their assigned role. Even the ones who weren’t particularly smart or socially
adept never seemed to get this
Part wrong. It was like an instinct—a survival mechanism built into us as
animals.

And then, there was me.

Just like in elementary and middle school, I had seamlessly fallen into my
designated role as an anonymous background character.
Although I was friends with Yūsei, I wasn’t part of “Yūsei’s group.” I spent
my time in the corner of the classroom, talking with a few like-minded guys
about anime, manga, or some interesting livestream we had watched
recently.

And yet, even someone like me still received a greeting from Kureha-san.

“Good morning, Mogi-kun!”

“O-… oh, morning.”

…Ah.

Once again, I froze up completely.

Kureha-san, who looked absolutely perfect in her checkered uniform skirt,
was just as dazzling as ever. It felt like she scattered particles of sunlight
wherever she walked. If I told a literature major, “This must be what
positrons are,” I bet at least one in ten would believe me.

That’s how bright her aura was.

She was a born idol.

Despite being the undisputed leading heroine of the first-year girls, she
treated even background characters like me with the same warmth and
closeness. She’d casually peek over the shoulders of otaku-ish guys playing
mobile games and ask, “Hey, what kind of game is that? Can you show
me?” That, of course, led to misunderstandings. Guys would fall for her left
and right, confessing their feelings, only to hear the same, bittersweet reply:
“Um, sorry. But we can still be friends, okay?”

I heard that she had a ridiculous number of followers and likes on social
media.

Apparently, a short dance video she posted with her friends back in middle
school went mega viral and even made the news.

She was also voted “The First-Year Girl You’d Most Want as a Girlfriend”
in a survey among upperclassmen—by a landslide.

I kept saying “apparently” and “I heard” because all of this was secondhand
information.

After three whole weeks of school, I still hadn’t managed to hold a proper
conversation with Kureha-san.
Maybe it was because of my connection to Yūsei, but she did try talking to
me from time to time.

I just… couldn’t meet her gaze.

That first disastrous encounter had left a lasting scar. The embarrassment of
fumbling my introduction made it impossible to look her in the eye.

Ahh, I wish I could date Kureha-san!

…No. That’s not it.

It wasn’t love.

It was admiration.

Unlike the other guys, I didn’t dream about having her as my girlfriend or
anything. That was way too far-fetched. But—I did wish I could at least talk
to her without freezing up.

That aside, let’s talk about the flower girl.

Her name was Usuba Amari.

She sat next to Kureha-san, and from what I could tell, they had been
friends for a long time.
…And that was it.
That was all I knew.

Even after three weeks, I had barely learned anything about her.
She almost never spoke. The only time I’d heard her voice was during roll
call, when she’d give the faintest, barely audible, “…Here.”

Even her face was hard to make out.

Her bangs covered her eyes, obscuring most of her features.

The only person she ever talked to was Kureha-san.

And even then, it was mostly just her nodding or shaking her head.

Nod, nod. Shake, shake.

Kureha-san would talk normally, but Amari seemed to hesitate, almost as if

she was holding back.

It kind of reminded me of my own relationship with Yūsei.

The more outspoken classmates had their own take on it:

“Why are those two even friends?”

“A goddess and a background extra? Doesn’t fit at all.”

But sometimes, I couldn’t help but wonder…

Is she actually really cute?

For instance, her mannerisms.

Everything about the way she carried herself was delicate.

Whenever she laughed while talking with Kureha-san, she’d always cover
her mouth with her hand. It wasn’t forced or exaggerated—it was
completely natural. If a typical girl would giggle with her shoulders
shaking, Amari’s laugh was more like a soft “fufu”, barely moving her
bangs.

And that hand covering her mouth—so tiny, so unbelievably pale—it made
my heart skip a beat.

Unlike Kureha-san, who shone like the sun, Amari was more like the soft
glow of the moon.

A sun and a moon. Kureha-san and Usuba-san.

Both equally radiant in their own way—the ultimate beauty duo of Miyano
Mori.

When asked about their friendship, Kureha-san always gave the same
cheerful answers:”Amari-chan? Yeah, we’ve been friends since
kindergarten!”

“Huh? No, no, she’s really sweet!”

“She’s cute and kind, and if you just talk to her, she’ll answer normally!”

“Oh, I know! I’ll invite her out sometime!”

“Then everyone will see how great she is!”

I completely agreed.

Usuba-san decorated the classroom with fresh flowers every week.

I had never actually seen her do it, but I knew it was her.

She always arrived earlier than anyone else, replacing the water and
arranging the flowers.

Two weeks ago, it was pansies. Last week, leucocoryne. And this week,
fresh geraniums, filling the classroom with a light, herbal scent.

And it wasn’t just the flowers—she also cleaned the classroom every
morning.

Again, I never saw her do it.

But every morning, the classroom was noticeably cleaner than it had been
the night before.

The windows sparkled, the floors gleamed. Unless the school was playing
favorites with our class, there was no doubt—she was the one doing it.

Even so, she never drew attention to herself.

She silently accepted being called a “mob character.”

Even when the homeroom teacher asked, “Who brought these beautiful
flowers?”, she simply lowered her gaze and said nothing.

But from behind her glossy braids, I caught a glimpse of her earlobe—

Bright red.

That was all the proof I needed.

She really was the one who arranged them…

She must not like being in the spotlight.

And that’s why I never spoke to her.

There were times I thought about secretly telling her, “Thanks for the
flowers every day.”

But in the end, I never did.

She wasn’t doing it to be praised by anyone—it was obvious.

As I kept observing her, I started to notice something.

—Does Usuba-san… like Yūsei?

She always seemed like a quiet dandelion blooming in the corner of the
classroom.
But sometimes, in certain fleeting moments, our eyes would meet.

And that only ever happened when I was with Yūsei.

Whenever our eyes met, Usuba-san would freeze, her lips fumbling as if
saying “Awawa…!”

Before quickly lowering her gaze. Then, flustered, she would run her
fingers through her bangs, brushing them like a cat washing its face—yeah,
she really was cute. A girl who could be this adorable just through her
mannerisms… wasn’t that kind of rare?

That aside, this kind of thing was a pretty common occurrence for me.

Being the best friend of the most popular guy in our grade meant running
into these “events”

All the time. More often than not, I was the one who noticed these
“romantic glances” before Yūsei did—he was a little slow when it came to
that.

Maybe… I could be a bridge for her and Yūsei?

That thought crossed my mind—probably because I had ended up in a

rather peculiarposition within our class.

That position was—

◆
“Please, Mogi-kun! Just for a second—let me take a picture!”

“Sure, go ahead.”

Lunchtime.

One of my female classmates held up her phone, and I solemnly pressed my

hands together.

Click.

After taking the photo, she clasped her hands together as well.

“Please, let things go well between me and Hayamizuki Seiji from Class 2!
Please, please!”

“Got it. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear the name, so good luck.”

And that concluded the ritual.

It was basically like praying at a shrine—because, in a way, that’s exactly

what it was.

“If you take a picture of Mogi Fukusuke and set it as your phone wallpaper
until you confess, your love will succeed.”

That charm had quietly spread among the first-years.

Apparently, it all started with what Kureha-san said on the first day—“Your
name sounds lucky!”
Then, some guys jokingly started coming to “pray” to me. The next day,
one of them ended up getting confessed to by a girl from another class, and
everyone started saying, “Is this
Mogi’s divine blessing?”

From there, this weird little ritual kept spreading.

To make things even crazier, research was being done on how to make it
more effective.

People claimed that doing a “double bow, double clap, single bow” after
taking the photo increased the effect, and that saying the other person’s
name out loud would “boost the blessing even more.”

Superstitions and charms… they don’t need logic to thrive.

But—

If it was helping people, I didn’t really mind.

Yūsei had asked me, “You sure you’re okay with people coming to you
every single day like this?”

But honestly, I didn’t mind.

If my presence could offer even a tiny bit of support, I had no complaints.

Thanks to all this, I’d even started to gain some strange kind of popularity
—people were saying, “If you have
Love troubles, go to Fukusuke from Class 1!”
As long as I could help, I was happy to do so.

Well, for now, it was time for lunch.

I picked up my lunch bag and left the classroom. Lately, the number of
“pilgrims” had increased so much that if I stayed in class, I’d get endless
requests, so I had taken to eating
Alone elsewhere.

I had found a good hiding spot.

The landing on the stairs leading to the rooftop.

Hardly anyone came here—a safe zone within the school.

Today, the sun was out, but a strong northern wind made the air chilly.
Deciding to eat on the landing, I walked down the lively hallway and began
climbing the stairs to the rooftop.

And there—

I found a sleeping princess.

“…Usuba-san…?”

Usuba Amari.
She was sitting on the stairs, a pink towel spread out beneath her. Leaning
against the wall,

She wore her sky-blue headphones and appeared to be asleep.

Or maybe…

She was just lost in a world of sound.

Her breathing was soft and steady, giving the impression that she was
asleep.

But every now and then, her long hair would sway—sway, sway—as if
moving to a rhythm.

Bathed in the pale light filtering through the southern window, her hair
shimmered—glimmer, glimmer.

It was like watching a quiet, gentle melody take shape.

Was it the sound she was listening to that made her hair sway like that?

“…”

With one foot still on the step leading to the landing, I found myself unable
to move forward.

I hesitated to call out to her.

I didn’t want to disturb the peaceful silence she was wrapped in.
I slowly lowered my foot, intending to turn around and leave—
But at that moment, a strong gust of wind rushed in.

The air between us shifted, rustling her long bangs.

Her hair lifted gently, swaying in slow motion—

And then, her large eyes opened.

Snap.

It felt like I had just been struck by a sharp sound.

This time, there was no veil of bangs between us.

This time, our eyes truly met.

“…………”

“…………”

For a while, neither of us spoke.

I couldn’t look away.

It was the first time I had seen Usuba-san’s face so clearly. The eyes that
had always been hidden behind her bangs were now fully visible.
They were calm, like the surface of a still lake. Warm, like a quiet sunlit
patch of earth.

Looking into them made me feel… at ease.

She’s… ridiculously cute.

My heart began to beat.

But unlike with Kureha-san, it wasn’t the loud, thumping heartbeat of

excitement.

It was softer—thump, thump.

Like gentle rain soaking into dry sand, the feeling spread quietly through
me.

Usuba-san was staring at me too.

Her eyes, wide and round, held a slightly dazed look as she gazed at me.

And then, her pale cheeks began to flush.

Her lips moved—Awawa…—as if fumbling for words.

“A-aah… W-wah… Wahhh…!”

She suddenly yanked up her cardigan, covering her face.

It was a weird pose, but somehow, it made her look like a cute little teru
teru bōzu.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I quickly tried to explain.

“I was just looking for a quiet place to eat lunch. I didn’t expect to find
Usaba-san here.”

“Y-you… k-know… my name…?”

From inside the cardigan, a pair of wide eyes blinked in confusion.

“I know your name. We’re in the same class, aren’t we?”

“Th-that’s… true, but…”

Next to Usuba-san sat a plastic bag from a convenience store. The label of
an ebi-mayo onigiri peeked out from the opening.
Come to think of it, she was never in the classroom during lunch. She was
friends with Kureha-san, but she wasn’t part of the “Kureha-san group.”

“Um, I—I already finished eating, so…”

“It’s fine.”

I stopped her just as she started to stand up, pressing down on her skirt.
“You were here first today, Usuba-san. I’ll go somewhere else.”

“Eh, but…”

“I have another spot in mind, so don’t worry.”

Just as I was about to turn around and leave, a cold wind blew through.

Her cardigan-clad shoulders gave a small, visible shiver.

A small window near the ceiling had been left open.

It was usually shut. Someone must have opened it for ventilation and
forgotten to close it.

It was a little too high—out of her reach.

Probably out of mine, too.

Even if I stretched, I’d barely be able to brush my fingertips against the

window frame.

“…”

Without saying anything, I turned and walked back down the stairs.

I stepped into the nearby audiovisual room and grabbed the nearest chair.
Huffing and puffing, I carried it back up the stairs.
“A-ah…”

Usuba-san watched, looking flustered, as I kicked off my indoor shoes and

stepped onto the chair.

If it were Yūsei, he wouldn’t even need a chair. He could just reach up and
close it in one smooth motion. A simple layup.

An 184-centimeter ace would have no trouble shaking the hoop.

A 163-centimeter background character? He needed a chair.

“This… is the only way… I can reach…”

Even then, I had to stretch up on my tiptoes multiple times. Hup… ho… I

struggled, and the chair wobbled beneath me.

For a school built so recently, they really should have invested in sturdier
chairs.

Then, suddenly—the wobbling stopped.

Looking down, I saw Usuba-san pressing down on the chair legs with her
small hands, holding them still.

She looked up at me with a determined expression, gripping the chair as if it

were a lifeline.

“I-I’m holding it steady…!”

“…Okay.”

“I won’t let go… no matter what…!”

With her support, I managed to snap the window shut.

Once I climbed down, she let out a long sigh of relief.

She looked at me as if I were an astronaut returning safely from reentry. A

little dramatic, don’t you think?

“A-ah, th-thank you… Mogi-kun.”

“I should be thanking you, Usuba-san.”

She knew my name.

For some reason, just that small fact made me feel oddly validated.

“Ah, I gotta go. Lunch is almost over.”

“I-I’ll put the chair back.”

“It’s fine. I took it out, so I’ll handle it.”

Holding the chair, I hurried back down the stairs.

As the sound of my indoor shoes tapping against the tile echoed, I thought I
heard something.
—I knew it. He really is kind.

Knew it?

“…?”

It was probably just my imagination.

After all, this was the first real conversation we’d ever had.

Not wanting to disturb her quiet moment any further, I silently made my
way down the stairs.
 Chapter 2

So, what does that even mean?

Golden Week had ended, the first round of exams was behind us, and I was
finally getting used to high school life.

Meanwhile, the whole Fukusuke Pilgrimage phenomenon was only getting

more intense.

“Hey, Mogi! I’m thinking of inviting my girlfriend to the zoo this Sunday.
What do you think?”

“Sounds good. Oh, if you’re going to Shima Zoo, you should bring rain
gear. Since it’s in the mountains, the weather changes quickly.”

“Got it! Getting drenched on a first date would be a disaster! Thanks, man!
Appreciate it!!”

And it wasn’t just the guys.

“Hey, Mogi-kun! I’m planning to give him a sports towel for his birthday!”

“Sounds good. But maybe avoid flashy patterns or pink. If it looks too
obviously like a girlfriend’s gift, he might feel awkward using it.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind! Hoping for some good luck!”
At this point, it felt less like a charm and more like a full-fledged
relationship counseling service.

Thanks to my older sister being an editor for a teen fashion magazine, I had
an unnecessary amount of knowledge about these so-called “love rules.”
Just by listening to her complaints
About work or overhearing remote editorial meetings, I had picked up way
more than I ever wanted to know.

And yet, despite all that, when my longtime crush, Kureha-san, greeted me
—

“Good morning, Mogi-kun!”

“Ah— O-Oh… g-good morning.”

This was the best I could manage. I still couldn’t even complete the basic
mission of greeting her normally.

Maybe that’s why she kept talking to me so often. The school’s goddess
kept giving me chances, yet I had never once managed to make good use of
them.

Meanwhile, I was making eye contact with Usuwa-san more than ever.

Maybe it was because her feelings for Yūsei were only growing stronger.
Her usually pale cheeks were constantly tinged with a soft pink, and she
often looked lost in thought.

Whenever our eyes met, it would take her a full second to even register it—
then, as if realizing too late, her face would shift from cherry blossom pink
to a deep apple red before she quickly averted her gaze.

—Could it be that Usuwa-san also wanted to do a Fukusuke Pilgrimage?

If so, she was probably struggling to bring it up. Given her personality, it
was easy to imagine her hesitating.

She was such a good person. Every week, without fail, she placed flowers
in the classroom.

She once desperately tried to support my chair when it nearly fell over. She
was thoughtful and kind, and I genuinely wanted to help her.

But there was no way I could just say, “You like Yūsei, right? Want to go
make a wish?”

That would be way too presumptuous. And if, by any chance, I was wrong,
the embarrassment might actually kill me.

Even as a guy, I could see that Yūsei was a good catch.

He was a well-known basketball player, easygoing, good-looking, clean-

cut, and had an unshakable confidence. He was the kind of guy who could
speak his mind, whether to adults or upperclassmen, without hesitation.

So it was no surprise that nearly every girl liked him.

The popular ones, the quiet ones, the serious ones, the flashy ones—no
matter who they were, they all had feelings for Yūsei.
Was there even a girl out there who didn’t have a crush on him?
Even… Kureha-san?

It was only a matter of time before someone brought it up.

“Fujisaki and Kureha would make a great couple, don’t you think?”

That rumor had begun spreading through the school, with our class as its
epicenter.

Both of them were incredibly popular, yet neither had ever dated anyone.
They constantly turned down confessions.

Naturally, people started wondering why—which led to the speculation that

they both had someone they liked. And if they did, then who else could it be
but each other?

After all, a romance between two school idols was the ultimate fantasy. The
birth of a power couple.

Yūsei’s reason for staying single was fairly clear.

Back in his second year of middle school, he dated two different girls in
quick succession.

After both relationships ended, he muttered, “They liked the ace of the
basketball team, not me.”
Ever since then, he had rejected every confession. That kind of purity was
very him. And, well, he was busy with club activities anyway.

But Kureha-san? That was a mystery.

After she had turned down more boys than she could count on both hands,
people in class started wondering if she ever planned to get a boyfriend at
all.

Unlike Yūsei, she wasn’t tied up with club activities. She had been in the
basketball club back in middle school, but in high school, she hadn’t joined
any clubs. Instead, she attended
A notoriously strict cram school.

She was definitely dedicated to her studies—her grades were among the
best—but that didn’t seem like a strong enough reason to avoid dating
entirely.

Maybe it wasn’t that she wouldn’t date someone.

Maybe she was just waiting for the one she already liked.

And if that were the case… then Yūsei might be the same.

He never swore off dating forever. He had even said, “If I meet the right
person, sure.”

And there was no one more fitting than Kureha-san.

The two of them talked a lot in class. Usually, it was in a group, but they
were always at the center of those conversations.
And their conversations? Always about basketball. How the team was
doing, how the local amateur leagues were performing. They got so into it
that, whenever they veered too far into technical jargon, the people around
them would tease, “Hey, stop acting like you’re in your own little world!”

Every time I overheard something like that, my heart pounded painfully in

my chest.

I had wanted to ask Yūsei so many times.

“What do you think about Kureha-san?”

But I couldn’t.

I was too scared.

If Yūsei just casually smiled and said, “Yeah, she’s great,” how was I
supposed to react?

If my crush and my best friend ended up together…

What kind of face was I supposed to make?

As May rolled into its latter half, I had started talking to more people in
class.
For example, Akiyama-kun, who sat behind me.

His signature look was a pair of thick, black-rimmed glasses. Like me, he
was on the “introverted” side, with a bit of a unique aura, but he was laid-
back and easy to talk to.

Before I realized it, he had become the classmate I spoke with the most.

“…So yeah, the other day, that guy deep-fried a giant isopod and ate it.”

“That’s insane. There’s a channel like that? You really know your stuff,
Mogi-kun. I’ll check it out.”

He could keep up with pretty niche conversations like these.

“Got any anime recommendations?”

“There’s a lot of good stuff this season. What kind of shows do you like,
Akiyama-kun?”

“Hmm. You know, that one… the one where they breathe and fight
demons.”

“…Blade of Ruin?”

“Yeah, that’s the one! Knew you’d get it, Mogi-kun.”

I was quietly enjoying my conversation with Akiyama-kun when—

Pom, pom! Two light taps on my shoulder.
Like a playful kitten pawing at me with its soft little paws, the touch left a
gentle warmth.

I turned around to find the ultimate goddess of our class standing there,
smiling radiantly.

“Hey, what are you guys talking about?”

“Eh!? Ah…”

I froze like a statue in front of the sudden appearance of the “Yua Smile.”

I turned to Akiyama-kun for help—only to find he was already gone. Did he

sense the presence of an extrovert and flee? His reaction speed was unreal.
His crisis management skills as an introvert were so impressive that I
almost wanted to respect him for it.

“Ah… sorry for interrupting. It’s my fault, isn’t it?”

Kureha-san clasped her hands together apologetically. The way her neatly
tied uniform ribbon sat just above her delicate, lightly touching fingertips
was almost enough to make me dizzy.

“…No, he said he had cram school.”

I didn’t want to hurt Kureha-san, so I lied.

For some reason, a faintly lonely smile appeared on her lips. She gave a
small nod and then spoke.
“Um, Mogi-kun. It’s about the Fukusuke Pilgrimage.”

“Ah… yeah.”

A bad feeling crept down my spine, turning into a cold sweat.

“Well, you see, I’ve been thinking about it a lot and, um…”

“…Yeah.”

The sweat on my back spread, dampening my entire shirt.

Kureha-san, who was always so confident and outspoken, seemed oddly
hesitant. Her large eyes blinked rapidly, and she let out a thin sigh in
between words. Even her uncertainty was
Unbearably cute—but what exactly was she trying to say?
There was only one possibility.

Kureha-san had also come for the Fukusuke Pilgrimage.

She had mustered up her courage and come to me, seeking the blessing of
love with the boy she had feelings for.

The classmates still lingering in the room were watching us, pretending not
to. They were all thinking the same thing. The number-one girl at
Miyanomori High, Kureha Yua, had finally
Come for the Fukusuke Pilgrimage. Who was the lucky guy? Everyone
wanted to know.

—No.
It wasn’t just curiosity.

They wanted confirmation.

And the answer was obvious—

“…Sorry, Kureha-san.”

I cut her off and stood up.

“I have cram school, too. I need to hurry, so… see you.”

“Ah, wait, Mogi-kun—?”

Ignoring her voice, I grabbed my bag and bolted. I didn’t look back. If I saw
her disappointed face, my knees would give out. So I ran, keeping my eyes
forward, until I left the school.

I ran away.

Even though my legs, trained through basketball until my third year of

middle school, were completely useless now, they still carried me far from
Kureha-san in an instant.

I said I had cram school.

So I actually went.
The large prep school building near the station had a glass-walled study
room on the first floor, allowing passersby to see the students inside.
Everyone was completely focused on
Their studies. A middle-aged security guard stood by the entrance, watching
me curiously as I stared blankly through the glass.

“Hey, aren’t you going in?”

“Ah, I’m not a student here…”

“?”

That’s right. I didn’t attend cram school.

I couldn’t even step into this building.

And yet, I had come here, unwilling to let my lie to Kureha-san be a lie. It
was ridiculous,

Even by my own standards. This pointless effort, this completely

meaningless sense of honesty—it was just—

“…I’m such an idiot.”

Why couldn’t I show this kind of effort and sincerity earlier?

Why didn’t I listen to Kureha-san properly?

“…I’m sorry. I’ll head home.”

I gave the security guard a slight bow, dragging my heavy feet away.

Tomorrow, I would apologize to Kureha-san.

Next time, I would really listen to her.

With that in mind, I passed through the station gates and headed toward the
platform.

It was rush hour, and the train was packed beyond belief.

Feeling suffocated by the crowded car, I didn’t even have the space to take
out my phone.

My eyes settled on the hanging advertisements above, and I found myself

thinking, Cram school should really be closer to home…

That’s when I noticed it.

—Wait. Is that Usaba-san?

Among the exhausted office workers and students crammed into the train, I
spotted a familiar pair of sky-blue headphones.

There was no mistake—it was Usaba Amari.

We had been on the same train the whole time. I hadn’t noticed.
I could have called out to her. The distance was close enough.
But she probably wouldn’t want that in a place like this—I was about to
pretend I hadn’t seen her when I realized something was off.

Her hunched shoulders were trembling slightly.

At first, I thought she might not be feeling well. But that wasn’t it.
Her cheeks were unnaturally flushed.

Even the skin peeking out from the collar of her cardigan was red.

She kept shaking her head, over and over.

She was so lost in panic that she hadn’t even noticed me standing nearby.

—A groper.

The space between us was about a meter. A college-aged couple stood

chatting between us. And right next to them—an older man in a suit.

He was facing away from her, pretending to be unrelated, but his left hand
—the one not gripping a handrail—was moving in an unnatural, fidgety
way. Each time it did, I saw her
Shoulders tremble like a frightened puppy.

—That cowardly bastard.

My fists clenched. Of course, the groper was disgusting.

But what infuriated me even more was that he had targeted her.
Right in front of him, a flashy gyaru with heavy makeup was scrolling
through her phone. Her blouse was unbuttoned daringly low, and her skirt
was dangerously short. She was the more
Obvious target, both in proximity and visibility.

But he had chosen Usaba-san instead.

Because he thought she wouldn’t scream.

Because he assumed she wouldn’t fight back.

It was unforgivable.

Every week, Usaba-san quietly placed flowers in our classroom without

telling anyone. And now, her reserved nature was being taken advantage of.

It was absolutely unforgivable.

I wanted to grab his wrist and yell, This man is a groper!

But I held myself back.

That wouldn’t work. That wasn’t the way.

It would only draw attention to Usaba-san.

She would be forced into the spotlight, surrounded by the eyes of the entire
train car.
She wouldn’t want that.

So… should I pretend I didn’t see anything?

—No way.

The bitter experience of running away from Kureha-san earlier was driving
me forward. I didn’t want to disappoint myself any further. More than
anything, I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing while someone as kind as
Usaba-san was suffering.
But how?

How could I help her without making things worse?

…………

After thinking for a moment, I put an idea into action.

“Excuse me!”

I didn’t address the groper—but rather, the college-aged couple standing

between me and Usaba-san.

Her head jerked up in surprise.

Through the strands of her bangs, I could see her widened eyes, filled with
shock.

“My friend here looks like she’s struggling. Could you give her a little
space?”
The couple exchanged glances before stepping back slightly.

“Oh, sorry about that.”

The one who panicked was the old man.

He quickly lifted his wandering hand and grabbed onto the overhead strap
with both hands.

I shifted my body and wedged myself between Usaba-san and the groper.

Then, I glared at his greasy face with everything I had.

—I’ve memorized your face.

That’s what my stare conveyed.

The man awkwardly cleared his throat multiple times, refusing to meet my
eyes, staring down instead. When the next station arrived and the doors
opened, he hurriedly got off, practically fleeing.

Once he was gone, Usaba-san whispered,

“…Th-thank you…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I still couldn’t bring myself to look at her.

My heart was pounding wildly. That was my first time ever confronting a
groper. My face was probably red. The whole thing felt out of character for
me, and the embarrassment made it
Even harder to turn toward her.

“Sorry for suddenly calling you my friend.”

“…Ah, no, it’s fine…”

She fell silent after that.

I didn’t say anything either and focused on reading the hanging ads in the
train.

But the occasional glances I felt on my cheek, her gaze brushing against me
like a feather, were almost unbearably ticklish.

When I got off the train, she got off too.

As I moved with the flow of people toward the stairs, I felt a small tug on
the hem of my blazer from behind.

“H-honestly… truly, thank you so much.”

She kept her head down as she spoke. Her voice was soft and hesitant, but
her fingers, tightly gripping my blazer, held a quiet strength.

“That was awful.”

“Y-yes…”

There was still a trace of fear in her voice.

“Does that happen to you often?”

“N-no. I just happened to be out shopping today…”

“You probably shouldn’t get on that train again.”

She gave a small nod.

“I’ll let the station staff know. Tell them to keep an eye out for that guy. I’ll
also give them a description.”

“…”

“Let’s just forget about today. I won’t tell anyone, and I’ll pretend I never
saw anything—so…see you.”

I turned and started walking.

Her fingers let go of my blazer, as if a string had snapped.

At that moment, I heard her whisper, “Ah…”—so faintly, so lonely, that it

lingered strangely in my ears.

As I descended the stairs leading out of the station—

“A-ah, um!!”

The sudden loudness of her voice made me turn around.

Usaba-san stood there, looking as if she was on the verge of tears.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt somewhere?”

“N-no! That’s not it, um…”

Her voice got quieter and quieter. Her pale fingers fidgeted restlessly.

That nervous gesture reminded me of Kureha-san back in the classroom

earlier. Maybe friends ended up picking up each other’s habits.

“M-Mogi-kun. P-please, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to thank you… S-
so, um, would you like to g-go get some tea with me…?”
As soon as she finished speaking, her small shoulders heaved up and down,
like she had just run a full marathon.

All for the sake of saying just those few words.

She must have gathered every ounce of courage she had.

There was no reason for me to trample over that courage.

“Yeah, sure. If you’re okay with me.”

Relief blossomed across her flushed face.

Like a withering flower coming back to life, vibrant and full of color again.

She really is… cute.

How could someone this cute go unnoticed in our class?

 Chapter 3

The place we ended up going to was a crêpe shop near the station.

At first, we had planned on going to a café. But on the way, the sweet,
buttery scent of crêpe batter wafted through the air, tickling our noses.
Right then, two girls walked out of the shop,
Holding crêpes overflowing with fruit, squealing excitedly as they strolled
past us.

Usaba-san’s gaze followed them.

Her small nose twitched slightly.

“…Would you rather have crêpes?”

“Eh? Ah, n-no—”

“There’s an eat-in space too. Let’s go here instead.”

We stepped up to the counter, where a female staff member handed us a

menu. I ordered a chocolate banana crêpe with almond toppings, and
Usaba-san quickly followed, saying,

“O-oh, I’ll have the same…”

Before long, a massive, megaphone-sized crêpe was handed to us. The

sweet scent of vanilla essence was almost dizzying.
It wasn’t just that it was sweet—there was something about crêpes that felt
like a girl’s dessert.

“Sorry, I ended up picking something I wanted…”

“No, I wouldn’t have come to a place like this on my own anyway.”

Honestly, I’d wanted to try this shop at least once. But coming alone as a
guy was just impossible. I had pretty much given up on it.

So, in a way, this was a perfect chance.

“At least let me pay for it,” she said.

“No, no, that’s not right.”

“Please, I insist! I really insist! Otherwise, I won’t be able to let this go.”

She wouldn’t budge, so I let her treat me this time. It was probably her way
of thanking me for what happened earlier, but crêpes weren’t exactly cheap.
Not only was she kind, but she
Was also incredibly conscientious.

We took a seat in a booth at the back.

Facing each other, we let out a small breath—

“……”
“……”

A silence settled between us.

After all, we had barely spoken before. Aside from that one time on the stair
landing, we had never talked in the classroom. And I wasn’t exactly skilled
at conversations.

To fill the awkward gap, I took a big bite of my crêpe.

“Whoa, this is amazing.”

The words slipped out. Wait, seriously, this is so good. The fresh whipped
cream melted on my tongue, followed by the bittersweet chocolate. The
crunchy, toasted almond slices added
A perfect aroma. Sweet, then bitter, then nutty—the cycle was so addictive
that I could probably eat this forever. I had no idea specialty crêpes were
this delicious.

“Hey, Usaba-san, this is insanely good, right?”

When I turned to her, she was busy stuffing her face with crêpe as well.

Her small mouth stretched as wide as possible, chewing earnestly.

“S-sorry! I was really hungry…”

“Haha, me too.”

We both chowed down on our crêpes together.

Usaba-san finished hers first.

She stared intently at her right index finger.

A single pearl-sized dollop of whipped cream sat on her fingernail.

Her face lit up like a child who had found treasure—then she popped her
finger into her mouth, licking the cream away.
When she noticed me watching, she flusteredly hid her right hand in her
left.

“S-sorry! That was so improper of me… I just really love sweets…”

“…Pfft.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“H-hey, don’t laugh at me!”

“S-sorry, pfft… haha… kuh…”

“…Jeez, Mogi-kun…”

She pouted cutely, but it didn’t last long. Maybe my laughter was
contagious because she suddenly let out a hiccup-like giggle.
For a while, we just laughed together.
By the time we calmed down, the awkward tension had completely
disappeared.

“…Mogi-kun, thank you again for earlier.”

“It’s fine. I just did what anyone would do.”

“No… I don’t think most people would. Even the lady in front of me just
looked the other way. Normally, people are scared to step in. You were
really brave.”

“I appreciate you saying that, but… I’m really not.”

Brave?

That was the last thing I deserved to be called.

“…To be honest, I ran away from a girl I admire today.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

And then I panicked.

Why was I suddenly confessing something like this?

To a classmate I wasn’t even close to yet.

To a girl, no less.
But once I started, I couldn’t stop. No—deep down, I think I had wanted to
say it all along. I had been searching for someone to listen.

“I have this weird reputation in class right now. Have you heard about the
Fukusuke Pilgrimage?”

She gave a small nod.

“They say if you make a wish to me, your love will come true. It’s
completely baseless—just a superstition, I guess. But today, the girl I
admire actually showed up for it. And I… ran away. It was pathetic.”

Usaba-san didn’t interrupt once. She just nodded again and again, listening
closely.

When I finished, she murmured,

“…I feel the same way.”

“You do?”

“I still can’t talk properly with most of our classmates. I’m always nervous,
always anxious, going through high school with a heart rate like a panicked
little field mouse.”

“A… field mouse, huh.”

It was an interesting way to put it. I didn’t know much about their heart
rate, but it fit her. She.did have the aura of a small, timid creature.
“This is the most I’ve talked since starting high school… I-I might pass out
from lack of oxygen.”

“W-wait, are you okay?”

I rushed to grab a fresh cup of water and handed it to her pale-looking face.

She tilted her head back, gulping it down.

“…Ah. That’s good.”

Her small, shy smile made my heart thump again.

How could no one else notice how cute she was?

“I… I really like manga and anime. I watch a lot of them…”

“Yeah?”

She hesitated at first. Talking about otaku hobbies could be a minefield.

I nodded enthusiastically to reassure her.

Her expression softened slightly.

“In anime, loners like me usually turn out to be actually super skilled
guitarists in a girls’ band, or secretly a super popular VTuber or
something…”
“Oh? So which one are you?”

“…Neither. I’ve never touched a guitar. I did try VTubing for a little while,
though.”

“Wait, that’s awesome.”

“…I couldn’t even talk to the comment section. Eventually, nobody showed
up anymore… So I shut down the channel.”

“…Oh.”

That was kind of sad.

But somehow, I could picture it.

Usaba-san, sitting in front of her screen, unable to interact even in an

anonymous online space.

Maybe… it was inevitable.

“Um, did that metaphor even make sense? Mogi-kun, are you weirded out?”

“No, not at all. I watch a lot of anime too. Nothing weird about it.”

If it was an anime talk, I was all for it.

“I mean, the same goes for guys like me. In anime, background characters
like me always turn out to be secretly powerful, or unbeatable in a fight
when they get serious.”
“…You’re not?”

“Not even close. I’m not some hidden prodigy—I’m just a plain old
background character. My grades and sports skills are average at best. I
played basketball in middle school, but I was benched the whole time.
Reality isn’t that kind.”

I laughed, but she didn’t.

Instead, with the most serious expression, she said, “But I think everyone in
class trusts you, Mogi-kun.”

“…You really think so?”

“They come to you for the Fukusuke Pilgrimage, don’t they? And when
they do, they tell you the name of the person they like. That wouldn’t
happen unless they trusted you.”

Feeling embarrassed, I scratched my nose.

“Still, I’m really like this in real life. I get nervous talking to people.”

“I do too. Whenever I talk to someone, I can’t start a sentence without

going, ‘Ah…’ or ‘Um…’ or ‘Uh…’”

“Haha, I get that. You end up feeling like a never-ending A-syllable

generator.”

This time, Usaba-san laughed as well.

“But somehow, talking to you right now feels really natural.”

“Now that you mention it… me too.”

I was able to talk normally with Usaba-san.

Maybe it was because her soft bangs hid part of her round, expressive eyes
—

But even though she was just as stunning as Kureha-san, I wasn’t stumbling
over my words.

I wasn’t panicking. I was just… enjoying the conversation.

Spending time alone with a girl like this—

Was this the first time in my life?

“When did it start, I wonder,” she murmured.

“When did we start thinking of the world as such a scary place?”

“…Scary, huh.”

A world that was scary.

I had never thought of it that way before.

But now that she mentioned it—at the root of everything, maybe fear was
the driving force.

The fear of being disliked.

The fear of being hated by everyone.

The fear of being rejected by the girl I admired—

“I need to apologize to Kureha-san tomorrow.”

I muttered it aloud without thinking.

And immediately regretted it.

Usaba-san tilted her head slightly.

“The girl you were talking about earlier… was that Yua-chan?”

“Ah—uh… well…”

I scratched my head. It was too late to cover it up now.

“I mean, I know it’s way out of my league. You can laugh if you want.
But… I kind of admire her. She’s so bright, so dazzling.”

“I wouldn’t laugh. …I feel the same way, after all.”

For a moment, Usaba-san’s gaze wavered with loneliness.

I had seen that look before.

It was the same expression she had in the classroom—

That distant look she got when watching the most popular guy in our class.

“Hey,” I hesitated, but then asked, “Sorry if I’m wrong, but… is it Fujisaki
Yūsei?”

Usaba-san’s face instantly turned bright red.

Her lips moved, opening and closing wordlessly.

“Eh, eh, wh-why…?”

“I’ve seen you looking at him before. He’s my best friend, so if you ever
need help—”

She violently shook her head.

“N-n-n-no! I do think Fujisaki-kun is amazing, but I—I wasn’t looking at

him! It was—”

“Hmm?”

“A-ah, u-uh… um, a-anyway, that’s not it!”

She denied it with all her might—

But with how flustered she was, wasn’t that basically a confirmation?

I had seen this reaction plenty of times before. There were lots of shy girls
who had fallen for Yūsei.

“As for me,” I admitted, “it’s not like I want Kureha-san to be my girlfriend
or anything. I just… want to be able to talk to her properly. To look her in
the eyes without freezing up, to have a
Normal conversation without stuttering or panicking.”

“…I feel the same way,” Usaba-san murmured, lowering her gaze.

“I—I want to be able to talk to the boy I like without looking away. To be
able to tell him how I feel, clearly and properly. If I could become that kind
of person…”

“Yeah… exactly.”

We were alike.

We had the same struggles.

The same goal.

So I took a deep breath and said—

“Hey.”

“Yes?”
She looked up.

“If our goals are the same, why don’t we help each other?”

“Help… each other?”

She blinked in surprise.

I nodded.

“We can practice together. I’ll practice talking to Kureha-san properly. You
can practice talking to Yūsei. We’ll help each other get better. What do you
think?”

The reason I froze up around Kureha-san was simple—lack of experience.

I had almost no practice talking to girls in general.

I had just assumed that was part of my personality, something I couldn’t

change.

But what if… I had a female friend to practice with?

“That’s a great idea,” she said with a smile.

“I think it would be wonderful if I could learn to talk to people normally—

not just Fujisaki-kun, but everyone.”

“Normally, huh.”
That was exactly what I wanted too.

To be able to talk to someone like Kureha-san—someone dazzling and

radiant—without fear.

And Usaba-san probably felt the same way.

“Let’s do our best,” I said.

“Let’s become ‘normal’ together, Usaba-san.”

I held out my hand for a handshake.

Her face turned completely red as she fidgeted, swaying slightly from side
to side. Her bangs swayed with her—

…Wait, what was this? A cute little metronome?

“I-I’ll be in your care!” she stammered.

In the sweet-scented crêpe shop, we shook hands firmly.

And just like that—

We became friends.

My first-ever female friend.

Or as my sister would say—

A girlfriend.
 Amari-chan’s Bath Time 1

“Haa…”

A sigh escaped Usaba Amari’s lips as she stepped out of the shower, the
water hotter than usual.

The bathroom was filled with the sound of an anime opening theme—her
favorite from this season’s new releases.

Ever since she started living alone after entering high school, listening to
anime songs while bathing had become her routine. It wasn’t that she was
still scared of silly childhood ghost stories—like the one about a spirit
standing behind you when you shampoo—but… well, living alone did
make things feel a little unsettling sometimes.

She sank into the bathtub, letting her tired body melt into the warm water.

The exhaustion from the day seeped out into the bath.

Today’s bath bomb was Peach & White Tea. The pale pink water released a
sweet, soothing scent that helped ease her weary mind.

It had been a gift from her childhood friend, Yua.

At first, she thought it was actual tea and almost drank it, only to be laughed
at.

“But it says ‘tea’ on it!” she had pouted.

To which Yua had giggled and said, “Amari-chan, you’re just too cute,”
before playfully ruffling her hair.

Being called “cute” by the most beautiful girl in the world (which Amari
had firmly believed since childhood) was beyond embarrassing.

(Today was… a lot…)

Floating in the milky white-peach water, Amari let the events of the day
replay in her mind.

Being groped on the train had been terrifying.

It was her first time experiencing something like that.

She had always assumed that someone plain and unremarkable like her
wouldn’t be targeted.

She had been so, so wrong.

She was paralyzed with fear.

All she could do was tremble—

And then, he saved her.

He wasn’t the most talkative in class, but she knew the truth—he was
incredibly kind.

Even in the way he helped her, his gentle nature had shown through.
He had chosen a way to resolve the situation without causing a scene,
making sure she wouldn’t be humiliated.

(Ehehe… and I even held his hand…♪)

Underwater, she squeezed and released her fingers over and over.

Even now, she could still feel the warmth of his hand lingering on her palm.

(And we talked… so much…)

Her voice was still a little hoarse.

She never talked that much. No wonder her throat was exhausted.

Mogi Fukusuke-kun.

She never imagined she’d step into a crêpe shop with a boy.

She never imagined she’d experience something like that in her life.

Truth is stranger than fiction—that was what today had taught her.

It was probably the first time in her life—

That she had ever talked to a boy that much.

At first, she had been too nervous to even lift her head.
But then came the crêpes.

They were just too delicious. She had eaten with such enthusiasm that he
had laughed at her.

And then, when she looked up, there was a smudge of whipped cream on
his lips.

That had made her giggle.

And for some reason, after that—

The crêpe had tasted even sweeter.

(I even talked about anime… and he didn’t think it was weird…)

She felt a pang of self-consciousness.

Why had she brought that up of all things?

She had been afraid of silence, so she had talked about the only thing she
knew—anime and manga.

Maybe he had just been humoring her.

If he really was the kind person she always thought he was, then maybe…
he had just gone along with it for her sake.

Even so, she had fun.

(I never would have guessed… he felt that way.)

To Amari, Mogi Fukusuke was someone the class quietly respected.

He wasn’t flashy, nor was he the type to stand out.

But he was like oil in a well-functioning machine—he kept things running

smoothly.

He was someone who made others feel at ease.

He was nothing like her—someone who was more like a strange

houseplant. One that “trembles occasionally.”

And yet…

He had the same kind of worries she did.

The worries of unrequited love.

(Yua-chan being popular is nothing new, but…)

As Yua’s childhood friend, Amari had always been close to her.

She knew the truth.

It was rare for a boy not to fall for Yua.

There were even times when every single boy in their class had liked her.
But—

“It’s not like I want Kureha-san to be my girlfriend or anything.”

“I just want to be able to look her in the eyes and talk to her properly.”

“To have a normal conversation without panicking or stammering.”

No boy had ever said something like that before.

As Yua’s best friend, Amari had seen countless love stories come and go.

Some boys had tried to force their way into Yua’s life.

There was even one who had said, “If you don’t date me, I’ll make sure
Usaba Amari gets completely isolated.”

Love made people do crazy things.

More than that, there were too many people who believed love justified
anything.

Compared to them—

His wish was so modest.

He didn’t aim to become her boyfriend.

He wasn’t even trying to get closer to her.

All he wanted—

Was to be able to talk to her without fear.

At that moment, the anime song playing in the bathroom cut off.

A notification tone echoed through the steam-filled air.

It was a message from Yua.

Yua: I think Mogi-kun avoided me today.

Yua: Does he hate me? This sucks… (T_T)

Amari couldn’t help but chuckle.

(So Yua-chan was worried too, huh…)

(I wish I could tell Mogi-kun about this…)

But she couldn’t just forward the message.

Yua wouldn’t want her feelings broadcasted.

Still—

She wanted him to understand.

That he had a much bigger impact on those around him than he realized.

That he was far more important to others than he thought.

Because if nothing else—

He had already changed her.

“…Mogi… Fukusuke-kun…”

She whispered his name.

It warmed her heart, just saying it aloud.

His name spread softly through Amari’s heart, like a quiet ripple across still
water.

Gently, slowly, it warmed her from the inside.

That day—

The day she first met him was still burned vividly into her mind.
That courage.

That smile.

Even now, she could remember it with perfect clarity.

Whenever she thought of him during difficult times, it always gave her
strength.

“…Fukusuke-kun…”

Her voice came out soft, honeyed, and warm.

Whenever she spoke his name, it always sounded like that.

To think—

That she could be his friend.

That they could work toward the same goal, together.

Was it really okay…

For something this wonderful to happen to her?

 Chapter 4

Well, then—

So, I’ve ended up practicing how to “become normal” with Usaba-san.

But… what exactly am I supposed to practice?

I got all fired up and said it out loud, but I have no concrete plan in mind.
Last night, I tried searching “how to live normally” on a video site, but all I
found were self-improvement channels, and I almost attained enlightenment
by accident. That’s definitely not what I was looking for. I can’t imagine
Usaba-san suddenly saying, Mogi-kun, the world is overflowing with love.
That’d be kind of terrifying.

“hmmm…?”

At the breakfast table.

As I stirred my natto while groaning, my sister tilted her head.

“What’s up, Fuku-chan? You’re deep in thought first thing in the morning.”

“I’m thinking about the happiness of humankind.”

“Well, well, that’s quite grand.”

She took a sip of hot plum-kelp tea and let out an old-lady-like sigh. Lately,
her Showa-era mannerisms have been standing out, but despite that, she’s
actually an editor for a fashion magazine. Maybe I should ask her for
advice? I briefly consider it, but bringing up a girl-related issue with family
feels too embarrassing.

“But, Fuku-chan. You might be looking good right now.”

“Eh? Really?”

“It’s like… the face you make when you’re seriously focused on something.
Kind of like when you used to play basketball!”

She gave me a thumbs-up, and though I didn’t really get it… maybe she had
a point. It had been a while since I’d seriously thought things through and
tried to take action like this.

“You found something to dedicate yourself to in high school?”

“…I guess you could say that.”

For my whole life, I’ve been a background character. Now, I want to

become normal.

I want to get close to the girl I admire.

That might actually be even harder than winning a national basketball

championship.

But if I’m not alone—if it’s the two of us—

“For now, I should start by apologizing to Kureha-san for yesterday.”

“Huh? Who’s Kureha-san?”

“A goddess.”

“Well, well, that’s quite divine.”

As I listened to my sister using a toothpick with a shick-shick sound, I

started running a mental strategy meeting—how to talk to the goddess of
my classroom.

—And.

After spending the entire walk to school in endless mental debate…

I came up with absolutely nothing.

I mean, really, other than just gathering the courage to do it, what other
method even exists?

Since I told Usaba-san yesterday that I’d apologize to Kureha-san, I have to

follow through.

No more hesitating. Swift action is best. I’ll apologize first thing in the
morning and put an end to this nagging feeling.
With that decision made, I stepped into the classroom.

The goddess herself, Kureha-san, was already here, chatting with her
friends.

As expected, she’s absolutely goddess-tier today. Adorable. The morning

sunlight streaming through the window makes her long lashes shimmer, and
her soft laughter makes her flaxen hair sway. If the sun were a high school
girl, it would definitely look like this. A radiance so overwhelming, I start
losing track of my own thoughts. Kawaii.

………

Would… after school be okay instead?

I nearly chicken out, but dodging it two days in a row would be too much of
a blow to my pride. I have to do this. I have to.

I place a hand on my chest, steadying my breathing.

I turn back toward Kureha-san.

I take a deep breath in.

And slowly exhale.

“……”
I inhale again.

And exhale—

“What are you doing?”

Akiyama-kun, with his black-rimmed glasses, called out to me. I blurted out
the first thing that came to mind. “R-radio exercises.”

Akiyama-kun nodded. “Oh, cool,” he said, before joining me in taking a

deep breath.

“suu…”

“haa…”

…Wait. What am I even doing?

Move already. Go. You told Usaba-san you’d do this yesterday!

Just as I was about to take that step forward, Kureha-san suddenly turned
toward me.

Bam!

Or at least, it felt like I could hear that kind of sound echo through the air.

Because our eyes met. Directly.

For a brief moment, she looked surprised. Then, for some reason, she
smiled shyly—before winking at me.

Yuan~

That’s… the best way I can describe it? A sound effect? An anime-esque
onomatopoeia? I might be too far gone, but I swear I heard something.
Nobody told me winks came with sound effects. I also have no idea why
she winked. But now there’s an echo in my head—yuan~ yuyan~ yuyon~—
and it won’t stop.

A girl like this… the type who could absolutely obliterate an awkward guy
like me…

And I’m about to go talk to her?! My knees start trembling uncontrollably.

Next to me, Akiyama-kun is also shaking.

“M-m-mogi-kun’s r-r-radio exercises are s-s-so Reiwa…!”

…Sorry, but I’m not that modern.

Just as I start thinking about backing out—

I see a light blue pair of headphones behind Kureha-san.

Usaba-san.

She’s already here too.

The moment our eyes met, Usaba-san gave me a tiny nod.

That small, delicate gesture—so subtle, yet so endearing—sparked
something in me.

She and I had promised to work together to become normal.

With her watching, I couldn’t afford to look pathetic.

I would do this.
Alright, go!

“Kureha-san!”

“H-huh!?”

Because I suddenly called out to her, Kureha-san froze in place. Two nearby
girls grinned before quickly slipping away, even giving me an encouraging
“Good luck!” gesture. The attention in the classroom shifted toward us—
wait, do they think I’m confessing!? No, that’s not it! I wanted to say that,
but at this point, there was no turning back.

“Kureha-san, I’m sorry!”

I bowed my head with determination.

“H-huh? For what?”

“Yesterday, I left without properly listening to you. I’m really sorry!”

Kureha-san blinked at me, her large eyes fluttering.

“Oh, that? I wasn’t bothered at all! If anything, I should be the one

apologizing for suddenly talking to you.”

She waved her left hand in front of her chest, shaking it vigorously. Don’t
worry about it, don’t worry about it—her exaggerated gestures showed how
considerate she was.
“Well, if you have something to say to me, I can listen properly after
school.”

“Then, if it’s okay… can I just say it now?”

“R-right now!?”

That might not be a good idea.

The entire classroom was watching us. If she was about to do another
“Fukusuke Pilgrimage” or reveal the name of the boy she liked, would
Kureha-san really be okay with that?

“I’ve been wanting to apologize to you, Mogi-kun.”

“…Huh? Apologize?”

“You know, about the whole ‘Fukusuke Pilgrimage’ thing. I feel like it all
started because I said your name sounded lucky. I’ve been worrying about
it, wondering if I caused you trouble…”

She touched her perfectly manicured nails as she spoke, stealing glances at
my expression.

She’s widely acknowledged as a beautiful girl, but maybe she’s more self-
conscious than she seems.

“Uh, I wasn’t bothered at all. Besides, it’s not even your fault, Kureha-san.”

“…Really?”
“Really, really. Well, I can’t guarantee any actual blessings, though.”

I felt the tension in my chest finally ease.

So, in the end, I had just jumped to conclusions…

“See? Told you, Kureha!”

A strong arm suddenly wrapped around my shoulders from behind—it was

Yūseii. He must’ve just finished morning practice with the basketball team,
his damp bangs clumped together, a sports towel draped over his shoulders
like a cape.

“Fukusuke isn’t the type to get worked up over something like that. As his
best friend, I can vouch for that. …But that doesn’t mean everyone should
just take advantage of it.”

Some classmates exchanged awkward glances—ones who had previously

joined the Fukusuke Pilgrimage. It seemed they were feeling guilty about it,
too.

Among them, I locked eyes with Inoue-kun. He was the first guy to
“worship” me. With his spiky hair and tough-looking face, people called
him “Yankee Inoue.”

After hesitating, he averted his gaze for a moment before stepping forward
with a serious expression.

“…My bad, Mogi. I got carried away and spread it too much. That was on
me.”
It wasn’t just because Yūseii was standing right there—his voice and face
made it clear that he genuinely meant it. He looked like the delinquent type,
but maybe he was a decent guy after all.

Following Inoue-kun’s lead, the others lined up to apologize.

It looked like the whole overblown “Fukusuke Pilgrimage” was finally

coming to an end today.

Class 1-1.

…Maybe this is actually a good class?

Maybe the reason I never noticed before was because I hadn’t tried getting
involved. Maybe I was surrounded by good people all along.

When I finally sat back down, Akiyama-kun wiped his forehead like he’d
just finished some grand achievement. Giving me a thumbs-up, he grinned.

“Mogi-kun’s radio exercises—YES.”

I had no idea where exactly the “radio exercises” had started or ended at
this point.

I glanced over at Usaba-san.

As always, she was hunched over in her seat, wearing her headphones.

But—just a little.
Her face, usually buried in her desk, was lifted slightly. I could see her eyes
peeking out from behind her bangs, looking at me.

From the sleeves of her cardigan, a small, pale hand emerged.

She shyly formed a peace sign.

I quietly returned one.

And together, we shared a small, secret smile.

That was how we achieved our first victory.

I met up with Usaba-san at the landing of the stairs leading to the rooftop.

A place where no one comes—perfect for our “secret meetings.”

We laid out a towel on the steps and sat side by side.

“I’m so glad it went well, Mogi-kun!”

Usaba-san clapped her oversized cardigan sleeves together in a soft, pof pof
gesture. Her cheeks were loose with happiness, like she was genuinely
celebrating as if it were her own victory.

“Thanks. It was all because you gave me the courage.”

Even my voice sounded brighter. Not only had things gone well, but I also
got to see a better side of my classmates—there was nothing more I could
ask for.

“Oh, but there’s one thing that’s been on my mind.”

“Yes?”

“When I made eye contact with Kureha-san, she suddenly winked at me.
What was that about?”

“Oh,” Usaba-san nodded knowingly.

“It’s just a habit of Yua-chan’s. When she gets nervous or surprised, she
reflexively closes one eye. Like, pachin.”

“So it was just a habit…?”

That’s a dangerous habit.

If a girl that cute suddenly winked at someone, either their eyes or their
heart would pop out.

There’d be bodies of slain men everywhere.

“Still, you really know her well. As expected of a childhood friend.”

“I’m basically a Yua-chan expert, after all.”

For once, she spoke with a hint of confidence.

“Mogi-kun, you must be pretty close with that Fujisaki-kun too. Not
everyone would just declare someone their ‘best friend’ in front of everyone
like that.”

“It’s a little embarrassing, though.”

Yūsei doesn’t care about that kind of thing. He always faces everything
head-on, no matter where or when.

“Alright, next, it’s your turn to talk to Yūsei, Usaba-san.”

“…Uuuh.”

She started fidgeting with her fingers.

“I-I don’t think I can do it. Talking to someone like that… like a school
star… while looking him in the eyes…”

“You’ll be fine. I’ll introduce you to Yūsei first, so just treat it like light
conversation. No pressure.”

I encouraged her, though I knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

“How about we practice now? Making eye contact while talking.”

“With you, Mogi-kun?”

“Yeah. Just think of me as Yūsei and try looking me in the eyes while
talking.”
The cloudy look on Usaba-san’s face started to clear, like the sun breaking
through the clouds.

“Alright then—hello, Mogi-kun!”

“Yeah. Hello.”

Her eyes, half-hidden beneath her bangs, gazed straight into mine.

There was something warm and gentle about them, something that could
put anyone at ease.

Thump.

A soft sound echoed in my chest.

Not the dokun! Impact from when I got hit with that yuan~, but a quiet,
steady rhythm—like drops of water falling into a still pond.

“……”

“……”

Neither of us spoke.

We just kept looking at each other.

A faint sheen of moisture covered Usaba-san’s eyes, reflecting my face.

Whoa, I’m completely red. Her cheeks were just as flushed. My chest felt
strangely ticklish. Fidget, fidget. Her cardigan sleeves swayed slightly, and
it felt like my heart was being tickled along with them.

“A-aren’t you supposed to be talking?”

She let out a small, startled ah, then whispered, “S-sorry… I don’t know
what to say.”

“Anything’s fine. Yūsei would respond no matter what you bring up.”

“I-I’m really bad at that kind of free talk, though…”

“…Fair point.”

Yeah, if someone told me to just talk about anything with Kureha-san, I’d
freeze up too.

Socially awkward people need a topic to work with.

“If you had a shared hobby, you could just talk about that.”

“What’s Fujisaki-kun’s hobby?”

“Basketball.”

“Anything else?”

“Collecting basketball shoes.”

“A-anything else…?”

“………Nothing, I think.”

He joined a mini basketball team in fifth grade, and ever since, it’s been
basketball and nothing else. His room is overflowing with basketball
magazines and shoes, and he kills time by shooting hoops into a tiny
basketball ring mounted on his wall.

“Well, how about something basic, like ‘What did you have for breakfast?’”

“Breakfast…”

Usaba-san looked down, deep in thought.

Then, shifting slightly, she scooted right up next to me—

“Noritama.”

“?”

“…Noritama.”

She whispered the mysterious word in my ear, so softly I almost didn’t

catch it.

“Why are you whispering?”

“B-because… it’s embarrassing…”

“……”

I don’t really get what part of this is embarrassing, Usaba-san…

And “noritama” isn’t a meal. Though, does furikake count as a dish? I have
no idea.

Blushing, she whispered into my ear again.

“White rice.”

“……”

That’s definitely not a meal.

But is this fine? She repeated it, stammering, “W-white rice!”—and

somehow, it was incredibly cute. Yūsei might find it funny too.

“Ugh… This isn’t helping me get better at conversation, is it?”

“Hmm…”

At that moment, an idea struck me.

“Oh, I know. Usaba-san, you’re into manga, right?”

“Not an expert, but… yeah, I like it.”

“Yūsei doesn’t read much, but he does read basketball manga. Maybe you
could use that?”
Usaba-san clenched her fists slightly.

“B-basketball manga? I’ve read most of the famous ones!”

“Great! As soon as school’s over, we’ll go talk to Yūsei together.”

The moment the final bell rang, I stood up.

I watched as the teacher left the classroom, then exchanged a glance with
Usaba-san. She looked nervous but gave me a small nod before walking
over to join me.

Our target—Yūsei, who was just about to sling his bag over his shoulder
and leave the room.

If I didn’t call him within five seconds, he’d be gone.

Sorry, Yūsei, for interrupting your basketball-filled youth—but Usaba-san’s

youth is on the line here too.

“Yūsei, got a sec?”

“Oh? What’s up, Fukusuke?”

I called out to his broad back as he strode down the hallway with his usual
large steps.
“Don’t tell me… you’re finally joining the basketball team? I’d be thrilled.
The coach would be over the moon too.”

“Nah, it’s not that…”

I let out a wry smile.

“Usaba-san said she wanted to talk to you, Yūsei.”

“Hmm? That’s an unusual pairing. You two friends now?”

“Uh, yeah. Since yesterday, sort of.”

I avoided going into details.

“That’s great to hear. So, what’s up?”

A star of the school standing with two background characters—it wasn’t

surprising that we were drawing attention in the hallway.
Especially from the girls.

For me, it was whatever, but the looks directed at Usaba-san were harsh.
Cold. They were probably Yūsei’s fans. I could practically hear them
whispering, “Who does she think she is?”

“She should know her place.”

“U-uhm…”
Sensing the faint malice, Usaba-san shrank behind my back.

“If you do it just like we practiced, you’ll be fine.”

“…Okay.”

“You can do this, Usaba-san. If anything happens, I’ll step in. I’ve got your
back.”

She swallowed hard, steeling herself. Then, lifting her gaze to Yūsei—who
seemed like a giant from her perspective—she spoke.

“H-hahaha, h-hah, h-hah—h-h-hello! I’m Usaba Amari!”

…She sounded like someone who just burst into laughter out of nowhere,
but at least she managed to introduce herself.

“Oh, nice to meet you! I’m Fujisaki Yūsei!”

Even though we were in the same class, he still returned the greeting
properly. That’s just the kind of guy Yūsei is—always sincere.

“This is the first time you’ve spoken to me, Usaba. Do you need
something?”

“Ah, um, well…”

She glanced at me, looking nervous.

I gave her a firm nod in response.

Slowly, hesitantly, she turned back to face Yūsei.

“Um, I… heard from Mogi-kun that you know a lot about basketball
manga, Fujisaki-kun. So… I was wondering if you could recommend
something good to read.”

She made it to the end!

I almost wanted to applaud, but now wasn’t the time.

Yūsei folded his arms, looking deep in thought.

“Basketball manga, huh. There are tons of classics, and they’re all great…
but if I had to pick just one, it would have to be—”

Oh.

That one, huh?

The legendary basketball manga set in Kanagawa, a true masterpiece of the

genre.

If it’s that series, I could talk about it for hours. The iconic scenes,
memorable quotes, best characters, debates over the strongest players by
position—the discussion never ends. Even Usaba-san must love it; her
expression brightened like the sun peeking through the clouds.

But then, Yūsei said—

“Slaaa—ime.”

“…Huh?”

Our voices overlapped in confusion.

“Slime Dunk.”

Even through her bangs, I could see Usaba-san’s eyes blinking rapidly.

“Sl-slime-san is… dunking?”

She was so flustered that she even gave “slime” an honorific.

“No. The ball is a slime.”

Yūsei answered as if it were the most normal thing in the world. What kind
of manga is that?

“It starts with a high school basketball player getting run over by a baby
stroller and reincarnating in another world. There, basketball with slimes is
the hottest sport. He joins a team with goblins and orcs, forming deep bonds
of friendship—while occasionally nearly getting eaten by a hungry orc
during practice or choking on a slime he mistook for a sports drink. But he
keeps winning games, climbing his way up—”

“……Wow… that… sounds interesting…”

That was all Usaba-san managed to say. As a textbook introvert, her ability
to react on the spot crumbled as the unfamiliar story unraveled before her.
She was wilting, collapsing into a
Shapeless mess—like a slime herself.

Hoping to help, I quickly pulled out my phone to ask Google-sensei, but…

nothing. Was this some super obscure series? How did my best friend even
find out about it?

Either way, I couldn’t leave Usaba-san to fend for herself.

“Yūsei, stop, stop.”

I stepped between them, shielding Usaba-san, whose eyes were spinning.

“Maybe something a little less out there would be better? Something more
suited for girls?”

Yūsei smacked his forehead with a thud.

“Good point. Sorry, Usaba. I got carried away thinking from my own
perspective.”

“Ah, no, it’s fine!”

She waved her hands frantically but looked relieved.

“Wait, so who wrote this Slime Dunk anyway?”

“My cousin.”
What kind of ridiculously talented cousin is that?

“Wait, your cousin’s a manga artist?”

“No, she writes indie novels.”

“But you just said ‘manga’—!”

“Did I?” Yūsei played dumb.

That occasional airheadedness was his only flaw as the school’s golden
boy… though, for his admirers, it probably just made him even more
charming. Ugh, good-looking guys can get away with anything.

Time to shift gears.

“So, Usaba-san, what’s your favorite basketball manga?”

“Ah, w-well, I like Shirako’s Basketball…”

Yūsei reacted immediately.

“Oh, I read Shirako too! It’s wild but really fun!”

“Y-yes! I… I really like Blue Mine-kun.”

“Me too! I admire that kind of free-spirited playing style.”

Yes! The conversation was flowing!

Usaba-san was regaining her human form, no longer a melted slime. She
still stumbled a bit, but she was keeping up. We were in the clear now.

All that was left was for me to quietly slip away so they could keep talking
alone—

…Wait.

Just as I started to step back, Usaba-san tugged at my sleeve.

She pulled it, once, twice, then again, like she was silently saying don’t go.

Wouldn’t it be better for them to talk alone?

Or was she still too nervous?

And then—

An unexpected event occurred.

“Hey, hey! What’s going on? What are you talking about?”

Like a sparrow hopping into the middle of things, Kureha Yua suddenly
jumped into the conversation.

Her surprise entry sent a light floral scent wafting into the air, completely
messing with my brain. Oh no, I’m going to turn into a slime too.

“This is such an unusual combination! Why? Since when did you all get so
close? Amari-chan, that’s not fair!”
I had no idea what was “not fair,” but the way she pouted slightly made it
impossible to care.

It was her cuteness that was unfair.

“U-uh, we just happened to run into each other at the station yesterday and
got to talking.…Right, Usaba-san?”

Usaba-san nodded frantically, looking like her brain was overheating from
the sudden turn of events.

Yua clapped her hands together and, with a yuan~, radiated an aura as
bright as the sun—

“Wow! Amari-chan made a friend! Mogi-kun, you’re amazing! Amazing,

amazing!”

She was praising me to an almost unsettling degree.

Kureha-san even looked a little teary-eyed.

Was this really such a rare thing? Was it something to cry over?

Her reaction told me more about Usaba-san’s lonely history than words ever
could.

Yūsei glanced at the sports watch on his left wrist.

“Sorry, Usaba. I’ve got to head to practice.”

“Ah, n-no, I should be the one apologizing for holding you up.”

“I had fun. Let’s talk again.”

Slinging his massive sports bag over his shoulder with ease, Yūsei dashed
off. He’s always busy—I have no idea when we’ll be able to catch him
again.

“Well, I should get going too. I’ve got cram school.”

Kureha-san lifted her left arm, the one with the pink watch, in a crisp
motion as she spoke. It was such a simple gesture—just checking the time
—yet somehow, it was ridiculously cute.

I figured she’d just head off after that, but instead, she leaned in close.

Her shoulder brushed against mine—soft, delicate, unmistakably feminine.

It made me want to scream.

“Mogi-kun. Can I borrow your ear for a sec?”

“────”

The way she said it was so cute my vocal cords straight-up died.

“Take care of Amari-chan, okay? She’s really—I mean really—a good girl.
Be nice to her. Be her friend.”

All I could do was nod.

And with that, the two stars of the school—Yūsei and Kureha—left.

“An-anyway, you did it! You talked to Yūsei, Usaba-san!”

When I turned to her—she was opening and closing her mouth like a
goldfish.

“O-o-o…oxygen… t-too much talking… oxygen…”

“Are you okay!?”

She was swaying, pale as a sheet, so I rushed to support her.

As whispers and stares followed us, I helped her to the nurse’s office.
 Chapter 5

Usaba-san was completely drained from oxygen deprivation.

I brought her to the nurse’s office, where the school nurse checked her over.

After measuring her temperature and pulse, we got the classic diagnosis
—“stress and fatigue!”—and I asked if she could rest in the infirmary for a
while, just in case. In the meantime, I waited alone in the empty classroom.
Maybe I was being a bit overbearing, but I couldn’t just leave her like that.

Thirty minutes later—

As I walked down the hallway, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, I
arrived just in time to see a pair of sky-blue headphones bowing slightly as
they exited the infirmary.

“You okay, Usaba-san?”

She blinked in surprise, her mouth opening slightly.

“Mogi-kun… you waited for me?”

“I couldn’t just go home without you. This was a joint operation, after all.”

Blushing slightly, she muttered a small, “Thank you.” Her face was still a
little pale, and her steps were unsteady. As she wobbled down the hall like a
jellyfish, it was kind of cute—but I didn’t feel right letting her go home
alone.
“Let’s walk to the station together. We can talk about how today went on the
way.”

“…Okay♪”

With a soft smile that felt like it radiated pure, calming energy, she followed
me toward the entrance.

From the nearby gym, the sounds of bouncing basketballs, squeaking

sneakers, synchronized shouts, and the sharp blast of a whistle mixed with a
coach’s stern commands.

Among them, one deep voice stood out.

Yūsei.

I kept my gaze away from the gym as I changed my shoes.

After leaving through the school gate, we walked slowly toward the station,
matching Usaba-san’s pace.

“I think we can call today a success, don’t you?”

I tried to start the conversation.

“You managed to talk to Yūsei properly. At first, I wasn’t sure how it would
go, but by the end, you were just having a normal conversation.”

“Do you… really think so?”

“Yeah. Starting tomorrow, you should try greeting him casually.”

I said it like it was someone else’s problem.

But… would I be able to greet Kureha-san properly tomorrow?

Usaba-san and Kureha-san were both incredibly cute—at least in my

opinion. But in completely different ways.

If Usaba-san had the kind of cuteness that soothed and put people at ease,
Kureha-san’s was the kind that lifted spirits and made hearts race. In many
ways, she was too uplifting.

“I can barely handle one-on-one conversations… but the moment there are
three or more people, I can’t talk at all.”

“I totally get that.”

I nodded with conviction.

“I can talk just fine with Yūsei one-on-one, but the second someone else
joins, I automatically take on the listener role. I can never figure out when
to jump into the conversation.”

“Same, same! It’s like I keep waiting for someone to cue me in! And when I
finally panic and try to say something, I pick the worst timing and make it
awkward.”

“Oh yeah. Happens all the time.”

Our shared trauma levels were high enough that we might as well have been
long-lost siblings.

As we neared the station, the crowd thickened.

A businessman in a hurry nearly bumped into Usaba-san’s shoulder.

“Let’s take it slow.”

“O-okay.”

We intentionally slowed down, drifting toward the quieter edge of the

sidewalk.

Honestly, strolling along the outskirts with Usaba-san like this… wasn’t so
bad.

“Um, Mogi-kun?”

“Hm?”

She fidgeted, clearly hesitant to say something.

“Um… la—”

“La?”

“Ra, ra… rala…”

“Rala?”

“Ra, ralalalala, lalala—lalalaaa, lalalaaa!”

A full-blown musical number starring Usaba-san had begun.

As I tilted my head in confusion, she cleared her throat repeatedly.

“Ahem, ahem… so, um, I’ll be stopping at this supermarket to buy

groceries!”

“You’re not heading to the station?”

“I actually live alone. I need to pick up dinner. There was a sale today,
according to the flyer.”

“…Oh, I see.”

Living alone as a first-year in high school… her family situation must be

complicated.

We were just about to go our separate ways—me taking the right path, her
the left—when she suddenly gasped.

“Oh no, I forgot my shopping bag!”

“The one you use for groceries?”

I forget mine all the time too, so I usually just pay five yen for a plastic bag.
Not ideal, but it’s just five yen.
But her face was filled with utter despair.

“W-what do I do? The cashier’s going to ask, ‘Do you need a bag?’”

…That’s what she’s worried about?

“Don’t you just hand them one of those bag tokens at the register?”

“This store doesn’t use those! If I don’t make it obvious that I have my own
bag, they always ask! Like this!”

She lifted her school bag high above her head and stretched dramatically.

It was cute, but… does that really work?

“If it’s just ‘Do you need a bag?’ you could just nod, right?”

“But then they also ask what size I want…”

I almost laughed, but I knew better. For socially awkward people, a cashier
striking up a conversation is nothing short of terrifying.

I, too, avoided clothing stores where the staff were too chatty.

And then— Pshhhhh!

A sharp, paper-tearing sound filled the air.

Looking up, I saw dark clouds had completely swallowed the sky.

The first star I had seen earlier—gone. The sunset—gone.

A split second later, a deep boom of thunder roared across the city.

Then, as if waiting for the signal, heavy raindrops began to pour down.

A torrential downpour. A waterfall of a rainstorm.

“Usaba-san, do you have an umbrella?”

She shook her head. I didn’t either.

I had left mine at home, trusting the weather forecast… and now my blazer,
and her cardigan, were both soaking up water fast. She quickly pulled off
her headphones and tucked them under her cardigan, protecting them from
the rain.

“T-there! Let’s take shelter!”

A nearby arcade, its bright neon lights cutting through the storm, became
our emergency escape.

We tried to step inside, but we weren’t the only ones with this idea—rain-
soaked crowds had already packed in.

A staff member with a nose piercing was glaring at all the loiterers, and
when our eyes met, Usaba-san shrank back.
With no other options, we settled for the edge of the awning, just enough to
keep the worst of the rain off us.

“Usaba-san, is your headphone okay?”

“Y-yes, I think it’s mostly dry…”

She carefully wiped it with a handkerchief and placed it gently into her bag.
The way she handled it made it clear how much she treasured it.

Even under the awning, the rain was relentless. Cars splashed water as they
passed, and droplets dripped from the overhang onto our clothes and hair.

“This is bad. Hopefully, it stops soon—”

I turned to her—

And what I saw made me freeze in disbelief.

…Whoa.

I nearly let that slip out loud.

That’s… big.

What is?

Usaba-san’s… chest.
The rain had soaked through her clothes, making them cling tightly, and
revealing a well-defined shape—like she was hiding a pair of large peaches,
or maybe small melons.

The shape was incredible.

Soft, round—like a perfectly steamed meat bun.

I’d always wondered why she constantly wore a cardigan. Was it to hide
this? No doubt, she had the biggest in the class.

Kureha-san was also on the bigger side, but Usaba-san was on

Another level.

—Wait, why am I just standing here staring?!

Forcing every last bit of my rationality into action, I tore my gaze away—
only to meet her eyes directly.

“Um… Mogi-kun?”

Her expression was pure, completely free of suspicion.

The guilt hit me like a truck.

So she’s the type who doesn’t even realize her own devastating charm?!

“Are you okay? Are you cold?”

“N-no, I—”

“You’ll catch a cold if you don’t warm up. Come closer.”

“N-no, really, I’m fine—!”

She pressed in slightly, her peaches—melons—meat buns—squishing

against my arm in an indescribable way.

This is bad. Seriously bad.

Aside from the other dangers, she really would catch a cold at this rate. She
didn’t seem all that physically strong to begin with. And after finally taking
her first big step today, it would suck if she had to miss school tomorrow
and start all over again.

I needed a solution—fast.

At that moment, a red car passed by in front of us.

One I recognized.

It zoomed past but suddenly hit the brakes. A familiar face popped out from
the driver’s window.

“Hey, Fuku-chan! What’s this?! You’re with a girl?!”

My sister.
Her overly enthusiastic voice rang out, completely out of place in the rainy
evening station front. Her eyes sparkled, thrilled beyond reason that I was
with a girl.

Annoying? Absolutely. But also a lifesaver.

“Usaba-san, I’ll have my sister give you a ride! Get in!”

“Eh? But I don’t want to be a burden—”

Before she could finish, she let out the cutest little sneeze.

She definitely needed to get changed.

“Where do you live, Usaba-san?”

“Uh, um… Nanaoji.”

“That far?! That’s three stations away!”

By car, it would take at least thirty minutes. With rush hour and the rain, it
could be double that.

My sister, now under her umbrella, walked over.

“If that’s the case, why don’t you just come to our place?”

…Huh?
“Our house is less than ten minutes from here. You can shower, borrow
some clothes, and then I’ll drive you home afterward. How’s that sound?”

Then, her gaze locked onto something.

“Wait… whoa. Whoa. WHOA.”

“Nee-san, focus—just get her in the car!”

And so, things took an unexpected turn.

A girl. Coming to my house.

My first-ever rom-com-like event… and it happened like this?! With

Usaba-san. And my sister supervising.

Life is unpredictable.

And right now, what am I doing?

Sitting alone in the living room, snacking on Happy Turn crackers while
waiting for dinner.

Usaba-san was taking a shower. My sister was on a work call—probably

another urgent issue at her job. Knowing her, she’d have to head out again
before the night was over.

Editors have brutal schedules.

I just hoped Usaba-san wouldn’t catch a cold.

Thinking I should at least prepare some herbal tea, I stood up—right as the
door opened.

Drying her long hair with a towel, Usaba-san stepped in.

“Ah… thank you for letting me use the shower.”

“……………… Y-you’re welcome.”

I stammered because—well, I got caught staring.

Freshly showered, Usaba-san.

Her naturally pale skin had a slight flush, making her look even more
delicate. Her damp bangs parted, revealing her large, round eyes. She could
probably be the center of any idol
Group with this kind of beauty.

Honestly… she’s just as stunning as Kureha-san.

Kureha-san had a dazzling, sun-like brightness. But Usaba-san had a soft,

quiet glow—like the moon.

No doubt, their looks were equal.

But this moon… was hiding a dangerous secret.

“U-um… i-it’s a little embarrassing if you stare so much…”

“S-sorry!”

I’d done it again—my gaze had drifted downward.

It’s just—she was hugging her arms over her chest, trying to cover
herself…

And yet, despite that, the mochi was still spilling out in soft, irresistible
shapes. No matter how much I tried not to look, my eyes were drawn in.

I’m the only guy at school who knows about this…

“U-uh, want some tea? I can make herbal tea too, just in case.”

Forcing my thoughts back on track, I grabbed a bottle from the fridge and
set out a small medicine box just in case.

“Thank you so much. You’ve done so much for me already…”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just my sister being nosy.”

Right on cue, my sister walked back in, phone in hand.

The moment she saw Usaba-san, her work-mode expression instantly

disappeared.

“Sorry about the T-shirt! Did it fit okay?”

“Ah, yes! Thank you so much!”

“………Hmm. Maybe you should’ve gone a size up!”

She added an unnecessary remark—and I knew exactly where she was

looking.

For dinner, we decided to order pizza. Since she was a guest, we let Usaba-
san pick from the menu—but she tried to go for the simplest, cheapest
option. My sister and I immediately added extra toppings.

“A-ah, I’ll pay for it!”

She even tried handing over her wallet. We had to stop her.

My sister just laughed. “She’s a funny one, huh?” No arguments there.

Once the drinks were poured and the table was set, we sat down—Usaba-
san and I side by side, my sister across from us.

…This felt oddly family-like.

It had been a while since I’d felt this way.

“Alright! Let’s do a proper introduction! I’m Shouko Mogi, Fukusuke’s

older sister! Our names are both lucky, don’t you think?”

“U-uh, I’m Usaba Amari… Sorry my name isn’t lucky at all…”

“That’s not true, you know. They say ‘fortune smiles on the leftovers,’
right? Isn’t that right, Fuku-chan?”

“Can you not act like you just made a clever joke, Nee-san?”

But my sister had no intention of letting up.

“So, so—what’s the deal between you two? Can I ask?”

“You already are.”

“Well, of course! I’m curious! This is the first time I’ve seen Fuku-chan
hanging out with a girl! Wait, don’t tell me—she’s your jokano? Is she?!
Your jokano?!”

Even though she’s my sister, she really has no filter when it comes to
sensitive topics. And seriously, can she drop the whole jokano thing? It
sounds so outdated.

As for Usaba-san, her face had gone completely red. She kept muttering,
“Eh, ah, uhh,” while looking down, fidgeting with her fingers like they
were about to twist into some impossible shape.

“We’re just regular friends.”

Translator’s Note: Jokano (ジョーカノ) is a slang term combining “冗談

(joudan, joke)” and “ 彼女 (kanojo, girlfriend).” It playfully refers to a
“joke girlfriend” or someone who might be considered a girlfriend in a
teasing way. The term has a slightly old-fashioned feel, similar to how
someone might jokingly say “lady friend” in English.
“Ehh, boring! Shouldn’t your relationship be more enjoy & exciting?”

“It’s not like that.”

We’re not hanging out for my sister’s entertainment.

“Oh, I know! Why not just say she’s your gārufurendo?”

What do you mean, “just say”?

“You said that on the morning of the entrance ceremony too. So, she’s a girl
who’s a friend, right?”

“Wrooong!”

My sister insisted on this with some mysterious level of dedication.

“You see, the word gārufurendo has a special nuance. It’s not just a regular
friend, but it’s also not exactly a lover. You get what I mean?”

“I don’t get it.”

After answering immediately, I turned to Usaba-san.

“Usaba-san, do you understand what she’s saying?”

I expected an immediate “no,” but instead, she lowered her gaze in thought.

“Gārufurendo, huh…”
My sister beamed.

“That’s right. And for Amari-chan, Fuku-chan is her bōifurendo.”

“You don’t have to take her seriously, Usaba-san. My sister’s stuck in the
Showa era.”

“H-How rude!? I’ll have you know, I was born in the Heisei era!”

As we continued our banter, Usaba-san suddenly covered her face with both
hands, shoulders shaking.

What the—?

Then, I heard soft chuckles.

She was trying to hold back laughter.

Did that exchange really hit her funny bone? Her sense of humor is kind of
hard to pin down.

Finally, she lifted her face and spoke.

“I-It’s wonderful. Gārufurendo.”

“Huh.”

Wait, seriously?
So my sister was right, and I was wrong…?

Or is there some delicate nuance that only girls understand?

Is there really something special about the word gārufurendo…?

Translator’s Note: The term girlfriend in English typically refers to a

romantic partner, but in Japanese, “ガールフレンド” (gārufurendo) can
sometimes carry a broader nuance, referring to a close female friend
without necessarily implying romance.

The three of us devoured a pizza the size of a truck tire.

Somehow, pizza tastes 40% better when shared. Hot pot, 50% better. Just
my personal research.

Maybe it just felt like that because it’s been a while since I ate with more
than just my sister.

As I scraped the last bits of melted cheese from the empty box with a
teaspoon, my sister’s phone rang again.

“I’ll take you home after this call!” she said before stepping out of the
living room.

“Sorry my sister asked you so many weird things.”

“N-No, it’s fine. Your sister is… quite the character.”

“Haha, yeah, no doubt about that.”

At that moment, I noticed her gaze shift to the right, fixing on a spot on the
living room wall.

There, an old poster had been hanging for years.

“Oh, this? It’s a basketball player. Spud Webb.”

“Is he famous?”

“Hmm, not sure. He was playing before I was born.”

Usaba-san looked puzzled, so I explained.

“My dad liked him. He played in the world’s top basketball league, and
even though he was only 170 cm, he won a dunk contest. Against legends
like Michael Jordan and all these other
Giants.”

“Wait, 170 cm? And he dunked? Isn’t that really hard?”

“Yeah. Normally, it’s impossible.”

Even Yusei, who’s 184 cm, can’t dunk. Though knowing him, he might be
able to pull it off before we graduate.

“His slogan was ‘If you’re small, jump higher.’ I thought that was so cool
when Dad told me about it. I admired him. I wanted to be like that…”
“……”

“I don’t even play basketball anymore, so I could take it down, though.”

Usaba-san shook her head.

“I think it’s fine just like this.”

“Yeah… you’re right.”

If you’re small, jump higher.

That phrase still lives inside me.

Then, something shifted in Usaba-san’s expression—like she had made a

decision.

“A-Ah! Mogi-kun!”

“Y-Yeah!?”

Her sudden outburst made me sit up straight.

Then, she thrust her phone toward me.

“I-If you’d like, w-would you… e-ex… exch… exchange, our… um, L-
LINE!?”
“Ah!”

So that’s what all the “Ra, ra, ra” mumbling on the way back was about!

How did I not pick up on that?

Wow, I really am dense…

“Of course! If you’re okay with me!”

I hurriedly pulled out my phone and started fumbling with it—only to

realize…

“……”

“M-Mogi-kun?”

“It’s been so long, I forgot how to do it.”

“Eh!?”

“Usaba-san, do you know how?”

“A-Ah, um, I only ever use LINE with Yua-chan, so…”

We looked at each other, completely at a loss.

◆
In the end, my sister had to teach us how to exchange contacts.
She grinned the entire time.

Probably because Usaba-san’s face was bright red.

Though I’m pretty sure mine was just as red.

After my sister and Usaba-san left, I took a bath and lazily folded laundry in
the living room when my phone chimed.

A message.

From Usaba-san.

‘Good evening.’

‘Did it send properly?’

I replied: It came through perfectly.

After a short pause, I heard another pop!—a notification.

Weird. A message from a girl somehow sounds cuter.

‘About what you said earlier. The basketball story…’

‘You were really cool.’

…Wow.
That was bold.

Totally unlike Usaba-san.

She’s probably blushing furiously right now.

Which makes me even happier.

She pushed through her embarrassment just to send me something

encouraging.

Her kindness really shines through.

In any case—

I, Mogi Fukusuke—

Was just called cool by a girl.

For the first time in my life.

Amari-chan’s Bath Time 2

‘Mogi-kun, when you talked about basketball earlier,’

‘You looked so cool I couldn’t stop staring’

Too embarrassing—delete.
‘You’re cool! I’m sure everyone else thinks so too’

Sounds too distant—delete.

‘You were amazing, thanks for the treat’

This sounds like someone else entirely—delete.

Typing, deleting, typing again—

“…Ugh, come on already…”

Amari sighed deeply, letting her frustration dissolve into the bathwater.

Ever since returning from Fukusuke’s apartment, she’d been staring

nonstop at her phone, struggling to compose the perfect message. Unable to
find the right words, she’d even brought her phone into the bath.

This was the first time she’d ever messaged a boy.

And not just any boy—it was Mogi Fukusuke-kun.

It made her unbelievably happy, but also left her totally unsure of what to
write.

(Maybe I should start by removing the heart marks.)

Tap tap.
(Oh wait, I’m calling him Fukusuke-kun, isn’t that way too familiar? Better
delete it.)

Tap tap.

(Would someone like me calling him ‘cool’ actually bother him instead…?)

Tap tap, tap.

Just then, her phone chimed with a “ding♪,” nearly causing her to drop it
into the bathwater.

Quickly checking the screen, she saw it wasn’t from Fukusuke, but from
Yua.

Yua: Finished cram school~

Yua: Hey, since when did you become close with Fukusuke-kun?

Yua: Tell meee, Amari-chan, tell meee~

Yua even sent a sticker of a sulking puppy, making Amari panic.

She hadn’t forgotten—she knew she owed Yua an explanation—but so

much had happened that her brain had completely overflowed.

Amari: Sorry for not telling you sooner.

Amari: Mogi-kun saved me from a molester.

Yua: A molester!? Seriously!? You okay?

Amari: Yes. Thanks to Mogi-kun, it didn’t become a big deal.

Amari: That’s how we became friends.

Explained simply, that’s all there was to it.

Such a thin thread connecting them.

“Haah…”

She needed to tell him soon.

She wanted to tell Fukusuke she’d known about him long before, that it was
him—not Fujisaki Yūsei—she’d always watched from afar.

But that would mean explaining her past, too.

“……”

Then another message arrived from Yua.

Yua: Then I’ll tell him too!

Yua: I talked with Fukusuke-kun and decided I’ll properly explain

everything about back then!

Yua: I’ll arrange something!

…Wow.

Yua-chan really was amazing.

She had the courage to face him—and her past—head-on.

Meeting Fukusuke had deeply impacted both Amari and Yua. But the one
who’d visibly changed was definitely Yua. After all, it gave her a new goal.

Had anything about herself changed?

Was she at least a bit braver than she’d once been?

“…I can’t stay like this.”

Amari tightened her grip on the phone and began typing again.

A message to Fukusuke.

Amari: Mogi-kun, when you talked about basketball earlier,

Amari: You looked really cool.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed send.

For a while, she sat gripping her phone, too afraid to open her eyes.

And then—
A soft pomun♪ sound echoed.

It was his reply.

Even though it was a normal notification sound, to Amari, it felt like a

triumphant fanfare.

Fukusuke: Dinner today was really fun.

Fukusuke: My sister’s rarely home, so I usually eat alone.

Fukusuke: That pizza we had together was the best.

Fukusuke: Let’s eat together again!

“～～～～♪♪♪”

(T-too happy…!)

When she lifted her head and glanced at her reflection in the bathroom
mirror, she saw herself smiling brightly, her face flushed so deeply it felt
like all her blood had rushed there, her cheeks melting into a loose grin. She
couldn’t believe she was making this face.

(Ahh, this is embarrassing…)

Would this face return to normal by tomorrow?

If she showed up looking this silly, he’d think something was weird.
(No, no way…)

Yet the more she thought about it—

The more Amari’s cheeks melted away.

 Chapter 6

The day after having pizza with Usuba-san…

“We’re going to have a ball sports tournament~”

Our homeroom teacher, Okajima Karibu-sensei, announced during morning

homeroom. Her name sounded like the pen name of a shoujo manga author,
but apparently, it was her real one. At twenty-nine years old, she was so
short and baby-faced she was sometimes mistaken for a junior-high student.
Yet, her sharply angled eyebrows gave her a surprisingly dignified look.
When introducing herself, she terrified us by asserting, without being asked,
“I intend to remain unmarried for life.” Students affectionately called her
“Karibu-chan,” but when angered, her eyes turned sharply triangular, and
she would shout things like, “Uraaah!” Was she from some kind of tribe?

That same Karibu-chan-sensei scribbled a list of events onto the

blackboard.

Boys: Baseball, Basketball, Soccer

Girls: Softball, Volleyball, Dance

Dance? That’s not even a ball sport.

Well, I suppose school sports festivals always end up like this. In middle
school, we even.had jump rope as an event.

“Everyone must participate, but you’re free to split yourselves however you
like. You can join.multiple sports, too~”
Inoue-kun, the delinquent, raised his hand.

“Karibu-chan. Can the real players participate too? Like, is it okay if

baseball club members play baseball?”

“Depends on what the club advisors say, but it’s technically allowed~”

“Yes!” cheered Inoue-kun, clapping his hands together. He wasn’t even in a

club—why was he so excited?

“Our school’s sports festival is pretty flashy, and we even have prizes, so
everyone, do your best~”

“Ooh!” A cheer went up around the room. The mention of prizes made
everyone’s eyes sparkle.

“By the way, the prize will be…a kiss from me~”

The sparkle instantly vanished.

Karibu-sensei muttered darkly, “Little brats…” before correcting herself.

“Just kidding~ The winning class will get a 10,000-yen Memezon gift
card~”

An even bigger cheer filled the classroom.

“Seriously?! Is that even allowed?”

“Our school is pretty relaxed~”

“We can buy anything?”

“Within reason. I’ll veto anything inappropriate for educational purposes.

Last year, the winners bought a circulator fan for their classroom.”

A circulator fan, huh? So even stuff like that’s okay.

Our classroom had air conditioning, but the air barely reached the back
corner where I sat. It was life-or-death in summer and winter. We definitely
needed that fan.

After Sensei left, excited chatter blossomed around the room. The athletic
kids quickly gathered around Yūsei to discuss team assignments. Yūsei took
out a notebook, jotting things down as he nodded along with their
suggestions.

Our class really does have good teamwork… Maybe we have a shot at
winning this?

As I was thinking that, the delinquent Inoue-kun came over. His bangs were
sticking up in their usual Super Saiyan style. What kind of hair gel did he
even use?

“Hey, Fukucchi. Decided your sport yet?”

Wait—since when did he start calling me by a nickname?

“Not yet.”
“Wanna join baseball with me? I’m gonna pitch, so can you be catcher?”

Though his tone was casual, his expression was surprisingly serious.

“Sure. If you’re okay with me.”

Inoue-kun visibly relaxed. When he showed this kind of expression, he

actually seemed pretty approachable. Rumor said he’d already broken up
with the girlfriend he supposedly got thanks to my blessing. Honestly, he’d
probably be more popular if he just acted normally.

“But why me? I don’t have experience with baseball.”

“Remember we paired up once in gym class for catch? Your catching made
it really easy to throw. Just had a feeling you’d be good.”

I wasn’t sure how reliable his “feeling” was, but now that he’d asked, I had
no choice but to do my best. I’d have to practice catching.

Looking around, it seemed both boys and girls were forming their teams
already. Even Akiyama-kun was surrounded by several boys, pushing up his
glasses and rhythmically swinging his hips while chanting, “Kabaddi,
Kabaddi…” What exactly was he planning to join?

Everyone looked genuinely fired up. It wasn’t just about the prize.

And so, June arrived.

Time for the seasonal uniform change.

Our school, Miyanomori High, had loose rules, so transitioning from winter
to summer uniforms was left up to each student. Naturally, the classroom
became a mixture.

Kureha-san had quickly changed into her summer outfit, saying, “I get hot
easily,” exposing her smooth upper arms. On the first day, it distracted me
so much I couldn’t focus in class.

Even the slightest movement made her snow-white skin leap into my
vision. Whenever she stretched and murmured, “So tired~,” it drove the
boys crazy, wondering if they might catch a glimpse of… well, no, I knew
she was careful about that. But there was no defense against the curve of
her shirt’s chest area.

Thinking about it—

Kureha-san genuinely cared about “being girly” and “being cute.”

Apparently, she was really strict about skincare and calorie counting.
Usuba-san mentioned, “Yua-chan never eats potato chips. She loved them,
but gave them up in first-year junior high and hasn’t touched them since.”
She often taught makeup tips in class, creating a wave of girls copying her
“Yua Makeup,” resulting in a flood of mini-Kurehas. Of course, she had
good fashion sense, but she clearly put a lot of effort into it, too.

In contrast, Usuba-san seemed completely makeup-free. She was still

wearing her cardigan, oblivious to the changing seasons. Her famously
voluminous “mochi” remained hidden beneath loose layers. If she switched
to the summer uniform, she’d certainly attract attention.
And not just for the “mochi.” According to my sister, “Amari-chan has an
amazing figure, big eyes, clear skin—just a little dressing-up, and she’d
totally transform.” I agreed. If she tried, no one would ever call her
“Kureha-san’s sidekick” again.

But she didn’t want that.

Kureha-san, pursuing cuteness with all her might.

Usuba-san, avoiding attention with all hers.

Their relationship mirrored mine and Yūsei’s, making me feel oddly

connected.

Being in the same class with two incredibly cute girls really was a stroke of
luck.

One day, during break time—

“Hey, Mogi-kun.”

Called by a voice that distilled all the cuteness in the world, I turned
around, only to receive yet another playful “Yuan” wink from Kureha-san.
Instantly, I felt my heart pierced and had trouble breathing. (Calm down,
calm down. Usuba-san said this is just a nervous habit…) I

Forced myself to smile back somehow.

“Wh-what is it, Kureha-san?”

“Well, umm… You see…”

Kureha-san lowered her famously long eyelashes. Come to think of it,

wasn’t her wink something she did when feeling nervous? Was it really
something that hard to bring up?

Usuba-san quietly followed behind Kureha-san, almost as if hiding. It was

unusual to see them together like this. What could they want?

Kureha-san even stopped Yūsei, who had just stood up from his seat.

“Did you need something, Kureha?”

Meeting Yūsei’s gaze, she shut her eyes tight for a moment.

“Mogi-kun, could you say ‘ready, go’ for me?”

“Huh? Sure, I guess…”

On my cue, she energetically thrust four tickets toward us.

“My dad gave me these! Do you all want to go to Tama-Pa this Sunday?”

Tama-Pa.

Officially known as Tama Park, it was the largest amusement park around
here. It wasn’t quite as famous as the mouse-themed kingdom, but it was
affordable and popular among teens as a date spot.
“Ah, I finally got that out~♪”

Kureha-san applauded herself quietly.

“I actually meant to ask yesterday, but I chickened out. So today, I was

super nervous about asking again.”

It seemed like she’d be able to say things like that cheerfully without any
trouble. But looking at her relieved expression as she took a refreshing
drink from her water bottle, I could tell she was being genuine.

“I don’t have practice that day. I’d be happy to come,” Yūsei immediately
agreed.

I hadn’t been to Tama-Pa since elementary school.

And now, to think I’d be going with Kureha-san—someone I’d always

admired—felt like unbelievable luck.

There was just one thing I needed to clarify.

“Usuba-san, you’re coming too, right?”

“Of course! Right, Amari-chan?”

But as expected, Usuba-san immediately turned into a stammering mess,

uttering small “Eh?”s and “Ah”s repeatedly. Exactly as I’d thought.

“What!? Amari-chan, you just said you’d come!”

“Um, no—I said if I could manage it…”

“That’s practically a no!”

An amusement park on a Sunday would be swarming with people. It

probably sounded overwhelming for her.

Still, this could be her chance to get closer to Yūsei, whom she’d always
admired.

I had to give her a push.

“I’m free that day too. I’d love to go.”

“Really? Yay!”

“Right, Yūsei? An amusement park’s definitely more fun with more people,
isn’t it?”

“Hm? Yeah, the more the merrier.”

“Hear that, Usuba-san? Let’s all go.”

“…”

Her eyes, hidden beneath her bangs, stared at me. She seemed nervous, but
behind her hesitation, I could see just a tiny hint of courage. Even she must
realize she couldn’t always keep hiding—this was a chance.
“I’ll make sure the crowd doesn’t overwhelm you, I promise.”

“…Mogi-kun…”

“It wouldn’t be fun without you, Usuba-san.”

At those words, she smiled shyly, then nodded softly.

Whew, that was a relief.

“Then it’s decided! This Sunday, Tama-Pa, the four of us!”

Kureha-san announced in a singsong voice. She looked genuinely thrilled.

The other students were staring enviously at us—both boys and girls alike.
Going to an amusement park with two of our school’s most popular
students was something many would pay double for.

Homeroom dragged on that afternoon.

Inoue, our resident delinquent, was arguing with the tournament committee,
prompting an announcement from Karibu-chan-sensei. Apparently, Yūsei
had been banned by the
Basketball club advisor from participating in the basketball event. I
understood the advisor’s reasoning—injuries to promising freshmen could
be a big problem—but Inoue was furious, shouting things like “This is
ridiculous!” while Sensei tried calming him down.
Inoue really was passionate, totally unlike how he looked. Had he secretly
been a hot-blooded baseball kid before?

For the first five minutes, everyone supported Inoue, but as the argument
wore on, attention waned, and people started doing homework or nodding
off. I also found myself spacing out, staring at Inoue’s sharp, gelled-up hair
as my thoughts wandered.

An amusement park trip with Kureha-san and Usuba-san…

I never imagined an event like this would happen in my life. I’d always
thought going to amusement parks with girls was something exclusive to
popular people with girlfriends. Until middle school, there had always been
this unspoken rule—boys and girls hung out separately.

High school was really something else…

No, maybe Kureha-san was just special.

Everyone recognized her as “the cutest girl in school.” She didn’t care
about social boundaries; she just invited whoever she genuinely wanted to
spend time with. Her easy-going nature was incredibly bright. I admired
that.

Still, I knew perfectly well I was only a “plus-one.” Clearly, the main event
was Yūsei and Kureha-san. Rumors had already spread by lunchtime:

“Did you hear? Yua-chan and Fujisaki are going on a date.”

“Mogi and someone else are tagging along.”

“Just there as cover, huh?”

“Looks like they’ll start dating any minute now.”

That was predictable. Even Akiyama-kun silently patted me on the shoulder

sympathetically… Wait, why was everyone treating me like I needed
consolation?

Anxiety suddenly rushed in.

How was I supposed to act when hanging out with girls? What should I
wear? It wasn’t a date, just “friends going out,” so dressing up too much
would look weird, but dressing badly wasn’t an option either. Was my
hairstyle okay? Should I at least get a haircut? Questions I never had with
male friends were now cluttering my head.

“Okay, okay, enough. Inoue-kun, just talk to the committee yourself, I’m
done!”

Sensei abruptly ended the ten-minute debate, leaving Inoue looking

dissatisfied. With the final bell, everyone sighed in relief and chairs scraped
against the floor.

As I got ready to go, my phone buzzed lightly. It was a LINE message from
Usuba-san.

Usuba: Are you free after school?

I replied quickly: Yeah.

Usuba: Could we maybe

Usuba: meet somewhere

Usuba: and have a strategy meeting?

We were literally in the same classroom—why not just talk directly? But I
didn’t point that out.

For me and Usuba-san, sneaking around to chat privately like this felt right.

Of course, I immediately replied, OK! My fingers practically danced across

the screen in excitement.

Right now, I had someone who shared the same worries as me.

It really was comforting to have someone to talk to instead of agonizing

alone.

After school.

We headed behind the school building, near the flowerbeds.

We’d intended to go to our usual stair landing, but cleaners were using it, so
we couldn’t get in.

“I know a good place,” Usuba-san had said. And indeed, the spot she led me
to was incredibly peaceful. It lay in the exact opposite direction from the
gym and sports grounds, with the four-story concrete school building
blocking out the usual after-school clamor. A neatly trimmed hedge—
probably planted by the school’s first graduating class—loosely separated it
from the road outside. It felt just like a secret hideout.

But what impressed me most was—

“What an amazing flowerbed.”

Flowers bloomed vividly in countless colors. Those were pansies, those

were Leucocoryne, and in front of us were geraniums. All of them flowers
I’d previously seen decorating our classroom.

“So, the flowers you always display were grown here, huh?”

“…Eh?”

“I meant to mention it earlier. You’re the one decorating our classroom with
flowers, right?”

“Ah, um, uh…”

She lowered her lashes shyly, her face turning bright red, and looked
unbelievably cute.

“I-I’ve been using the flowerbeds from the old gardening club…”

“You’ve been maintaining this all alone?”

That must be incredibly—no, extremely hard work.

“If you ever need help, tell me. Especially with heavy lifting—I’ve got you
covered.”

“B-but, wouldn’t that be trouble?”

“What are you talking about? We’re friends, aren’t we? And of course, it’ll
be our secret.”

Hearing me say that, Usuba-san finally smiled.

We spread a towel along the edge of the flowerbed and sat down side-by-
side. The area truly was quiet, cut off entirely from the noise of club
activities. It felt like we were the only two people at school.

“I never thought there’d be a day I’d go to an amusement park with boys,”

she said softly.

“I totally get it. I thought the exact same thing.”

“It’s actually my first time going to an amusement park. What about you?”

“I went once in elementary school. With guy friends only, though.”

Back then, the only feeling was pure excitement. But this time, anxiety
definitely outweighed excitement.

“I’m worried I’ll just ruin everyone’s fun by being there…”

“No way. If you don’t come, I’ll definitely feel awkward alone.”
She glanced up at me.

“I wouldn’t have agreed if you weren’t coming, Mogi-kun.”

“See? We’re in this together. We have to help each other—”

As I said that, a sudden thought struck me.

“But honestly, why did Kureha-san invite me in the first place?”

“Is that…strange?”

“I understand inviting Yūsei—he’s popular. And you, too, since you’re

childhood friends. But there’s really no reason to invite me, right?”

“Well… um…”

Usuba-san hesitated a bit, then finally said,

“Actually, Yua-chan has known about you for a while.”

“Known about me? Oh—maybe through basketball?”

I’d heard that Kureha-san had been on her junior high’s girls’ basketball
team. It wouldn’t be surprising if she’d crossed paths with us during a
tournament or even visited my school for practice matches.

But still—
“I understand her remembering Yūsei since he was pretty famous. But me?
I spent all three years on the bench.”

Usuba-san didn’t immediately reply, remaining silent instead. It felt like a

thoughtful silence.

“…Um…”

She finally spoke up, her voice unusually firm compared to her usual shy
tone.

“I think that’s something Yua-chan would want to tell you herself. I’m
sorry.”

“…Alright.”

Clearly, there was something more to this.

I was still curious why Kureha-san had noticed me at all, but it wouldn’t be
fair to put Usuba-san in the middle. I’d leave it alone for now.

“For me, Yua-chan has always been a hero.”

“A hero?”

“Because of my personality, I was excluded from everything as a child.

Nobody wanted to play with me. It’s practically a miracle I wasn’t bullied.
But Yua-chan would always reach out to me, pulling me along to play—just
like she did this time.”
“I see.”

I could easily picture Kureha-san cheerfully grabbing her hand.

“It happened in third grade. I overheard Yua-chan talking with some other
girls. They said, ‘Let’s ditch Amari-chan tomorrow.’ When Yua-chan asked
why, they told her, ‘Because she’s slow and always holds us back,’ and
begged her, ‘Yua-chan, just come without her.’”

“…That must’ve hurt.”

A bitter feeling filled my chest, mixed with anger. Anger at people who fail
to see value in someone who’s clearly special, dismissing her as worthless.
Or maybe simply anger at seeing a friend disrespected. Even though we
hadn’t known each other long, I’d already grown protective of our
friendship.

“But Yua-chan got really angry. She shouted back loudly—something she
rarely did. She told those girls, ‘Then I won’t play either! I’m never playing
with any of you again!’”

“That definitely sounds like her.”

Even as a child, Kureha-san had been a true angel.

“I think Yua-chan invited you simply because she’s genuinely interested in

you, Mogi-kun.”

“Interested?”

“She’s not the kind of person who’d invite a boy just to fill a number.”
“…Got it.”

If what she said was true, then I wanted to know more about Kureha-san.

I wanted to get closer to her.

“I’m really looking forward to Tama-Pa now.”

Thanks to Usuba-san’s words, I truly felt that way.

 Chapter 7

I messed up!

Wake up at six in the morning, do some light exercises, shower and freshen
up, have a quick breakfast, leisurely get ready, and then calmly head to the
meeting point—this was supposed to be my perfect plan. Instead, when I
opened my eyes, it was fifteen minutes before our scheduled meeting time.

Of all days, why today?

How could I oversleep on the day we’re supposed to go to an amusement

park?

I was too nervous to fall asleep last night. Even at one, then two in the
morning, sleep wouldn’t come. I tossed and turned restlessly in bed until the
eastern sky started to brighten.

Ironically, the moment I decided I’d just pull an all-nighter, drowsiness hit
me. Seriously, Mogi Fukusuke, your timing couldn’t be worse… While
cursing myself, I fell asleep—and here we
Are.

I hurriedly got ready and put on my freshly polished, special-edition

sneakers. Glancing at the mirror by the entrance, I hastily smoothed down
my messy hair. I’d planned to style it properly, but there just wasn’t time. I
quickly checked my nose hairs, at least, before rushing out the door.

I arrived at the station exactly one minute before the appointed time—.
Waiting for me there was an embodiment of adorableness that made my
sleep-deprived brain melt instantly.

“Ah, Mogi-kun! Over here!”

Kureha-san eagerly waved her hand, bouncing up and down among the
crowd.

She wore a translucent, floral-patterned dress. Just seeing that was already
divine, but the way its pleats fluttered like chiffon cake completely wiped
away any remaining drowsiness.

Her casual clothes are way too cute…

Her hairstyle was also different from school. Her hair was half-up, tied with
a vividly bright blue scarf, reminiscent of the southern seas. It was fresh,
revolutionary even. How can someone look twice as cute as at school?

“Mogi-kun, your shoes look cool!”

“Oh—fuu—thanks.”

As usual, I couldn’t make proper eye contact and awkwardly started with an
“Ohfuu.”

I couldn’t stop grinning.

The fact that she noticed my sneakers right away made me way too
happy…
“S-so, are we the first ones here?”

“Amari-chan’s already here, you know?”

And then—

I finally noticed Usaba-san timidly shrinking behind Kureha-san’s back.

“T-too many people… S-scary…”

She looked pale as a ghost.

Deciding to be her shield, I stood in front of her, blocking her from curious
passersby.

“Good morning, Usaba-san. You okay?”

“Oh, good morning… I’ll…try my best.”

She gave me a stiff smile.

Usaba-san’s outfit was typically reserved. A blouse with subtle decorations

around the collar and sleeves, a long skirt, her usual cardigan, and
headphones. Her bangs remained as tightly shut as a deserted shopping
street. I’d held a faint hope since it was a holiday, but I guess that was
asking too much.

There was just one exception: a marine-blue hair clip adding a rare splash
of color.
“Hey, that’s the same color as Kureha-san’s scarf.”

Kureha-san smiled happily.

“Oh, you noticed! Yeah, I thought it’d be nice if we matched, so I gave it to

her earlier.”

“Um, Yua-chan, it’s too noticeable. Can I take it off?”

“Nope”

Kureha-san made an X with her fingers. Her tone was cute, but her eyes
clearly showed she wouldn’t allow any debate.

“I think it’s fine. You look cute.”

When I said that, her eyes peeked shyly upwards from behind her bangs.

“R-really…?”

“Yeah. Yūsei will probably like it too.”

“…Oh…okay…”

But Usaba-san’s expression turned complicated for some reason. I

wondered why. She genuinely looked cute.

Yūsei still wasn’t here. The clock in front of the station had already struck
9:05.
I was just reaching for my phone to text him when I heard a familiar, loud
voice: “Heyyy!” His athletic, booming voice clearly stood out even amidst
the crowded plaza. Finally, he’d arrived.

“…Oh.”

I was about to tease him for being late when I froze upon seeing my best
friend’s casual attire. Don’t get me wrong—he looked cool. The black-and-
white design was sleek, functional, and suited his tall frame, definitely
attracting attention. A group of passing middle school girls even squealed,
“That guy’s totally hot!”

Yeah, he’s cool…

He really is…

But—

He’s in a tracksuit.

It didn’t have “Miyanomori” written on the chest, so it was probably his

everyday wear, but still not suitable for an amusement park. He looked
ready to run ten laps around a field.

“Sorry, sorry. The train was packed.”

That’s Yūsei’s standard joke—he wants the retort, “Crowded trains don’t
make you late!”

Sorry, buddy, but today I just don’t have the energy.

“W-why a tracksuit?”

“Hm. Considering all the rides, I prioritized ease of movement.”

He responded cheerfully, clearly looking forward to today in his own way.

But still, a tracksuit? Way to ruin the vibe.

“Haha…very Yūsei-kun of you.”

Even our school’s goddess gave a strained laugh.

But then, surprisingly, Usaba-san spoke up timidly:

“Oh… but maybe a tracksuit is less conspicuous.”

“Exactly, Usaba! You totally get it!”

They seemed to find common ground oddly quickly. I couldn’t really

understand their reasoning, but as long as it brought them closer, it was fine.

And that’s how our amusement park double date (?) began.

A scream rang out near the peak of the roller coaster.

“PLEASE JUST KILL MEEEEE!!”

Sitting next to Yūsei, Usaba-san screamed. That was a new one. I’d heard
“I’m gonna dieeee,” but never “kill me.” Still, I understood the feeling
perfectly. That slow ascent to the peak and the unbearable tension before
the steep drop…

“────────!!”

I somehow managed to swallow my own scream. Next to l Kureha-san, I

absolutely couldn’t embarrass myself. The wind hit my face so hard I
couldn’t even open my eyes properly. With a terrifying sensation of
weightlessness and internal organs rising into my throat, we plunged down
a 70-meter drop.

“Kyaaaaaaaa”

Even Kureha-san’s scream was adorable. She definitely seemed to be

having a blast—she wasn’t joking when she said, “I’m great with rides!”
She’d asked me beforehand to pose for the ride photo after the drop, but my
strained smile toward the camera was the best I could manage.

Yūsei remained completely silent. He didn’t budge so much that I worried

he might’ve passed out. He’d once told me, “The trick to thrill rides is to
empty your mind,” and apparently he was already in a state of
enlightenment. Leave it to a temple kid.

After surviving the hellish drops, rises, and sharp turns, we finally returned
to solid ground.

The sense of relief was indescribable—I’d never been this grateful for solid
earth before. But my legs still felt shaky, like an astronaut returning to
Earth.
“Aww, my eyes are closed.”

Looking at the purchased ride photo, Kureha-san looked disappointed. Next

to her, Usaba-san stood dazed… Wait, no—she was passed out.

“Hang in there, Usaba-san! We’re back on the ground already!”

I shook her shoulders gently, and finally, she snapped out of it.

“M-Mogi-kun! I’m so glad you’re alive!”

For some reason, she offered me a handshake, and we firmly grasped each
other’s hands.

Hers was incredibly sweaty. Yeah, we’d better avoid any more thrill rides.

Yūsei looked completely unfazed, casually checking his phone and

muttering, “So, what’s next?” He’d confidently declared earlier that he’d
conquer every attraction at Tama Park, and
Apparently, he was dead serious.

“How about something a little milder next? Usaba-san looks pretty worn
out.”

“Then, how about that one?”

Kureha-san pointed at a water attraction—basically a roller coaster on

water. Compared to the one we just survived, the height and speed were
more reasonable, but instead, massive
Splashes would pour down like a waterfall.

“But won’t you two be troubled if you get soaked?”

“They sell ponchos, so it’ll be fine.”

I thought we’d have to stop by a store, but they sold ponchos in a vending
machine right outside the entrance. Electronic payment accepted, 200 yen.
Wow, things really changed while I wasn’t looking. Apparently, Tama Park
underwent a major renovation three years ago, updating all the attractions.

Kureha-san quickly taught Usaba-san how to put on the poncho.

“Make sure to pull the hood tight over your head, okay? Your hair will get
wet otherwise. And when we hit the water, make sure you lower your head.
Don’t want to ruin your makeup.”

When she was done, Kureha-san looked absolutely adorab—actually, no.

She was entirely covered from head to ankles in a white vinyl sheet, her
face barely visible. She looked like she was about to enter a biohazard
research lab. It radiated a strong determination: “I will not let my hair or
clothes get wet, period.”

“Oh, this feels… calming. Can I just wear it forever?”

Usaba-san seemed to love it. No way, you’d definitely overheat.

“Yūsei, should we get some too?”

“Nope. I want to experience the water directly.”

And so, for a very manly reason, Yūsei and I went in without any protective
gear, ready to tackle the attraction named “DOPPAAN.” The name was
pretty intense, but I doubted we’d
Actually get drenched that badly.

—I was completely wrong.

“That’s cold!?”

It felt like someone dumped a gigantic bucket of water right over our heads!

Our coaster rapidly plunged straight into a deep pool, causing an enormous
splash—five meters high at least—to rain down on us. This wasn’t a light
drizzle; it felt like getting caught in a flash flood. We ended up completely
drenched from head to toe, underwear included.

“That’s invigorating, isn’t it, Fukusuke!?”

My friend said something ridiculous as he shook water out of his hair. So

this is what it means to have charisma. Maybe it’s okay if I’m never
popular.

“Guys, look this way~♪”

Completely dry thanks to her poncho armor, Kureha-san held up her

smartphone. Yūsei and I smiled, throwing up peace signs as she snapped a
photo. By tomorrow, I’m sure every girl in class will have seen this picture.
Some of them might even edit me out completely…

Actually, I should stop thinking about that.

“S-so, what do we do next?”

“Hold on, Usaba-san. Maybe take the poncho off first?”

Our next destination was a horror attraction.

It was themed after an abandoned hospital, filled with numerous shocking
events—in other words, a haunted house.

“This one seems genuinely scary. Definitely on another level compared to

the rest.”

“How can you tell, Fukusuke?”

“Well, look over there—”

I pointed to the line of people exiting on the other side. Several girls were
crying, forming a queue by a vending machine right beside the exit.

“What kind of vending machine is that? Not ponchos again, right?”

I answered Kureha-san’s puzzled question:

“It looks like they sell underwear.”

“Huh?”

“Probably because it’s so scary, they… you know…”

Realizing what I meant, Kureha-san’s face quickly turned pale. Thrill rides
might be fine, but horror was apparently a different matter entirely.

“Interesting! Sounds like a challenge!”

Yūsei, on the other hand, seemed fired up by this.

“Oh, um, I think I might be interested too…”

Surprisingly, Usaba-san showed some enthusiasm. Maybe it was because

Kureha-san was here today, or maybe because Yūsei was with us, but she
was acting slightly more proactive
Than usual.

“Oh, Usaba, you okay with ghosts?”

“Well, it’s just that… it’s dark and damp inside, so I think it’d be
calming…”

Yep, Usaba-san was still very much herself.

“If Amari-chan’s going, then I’ll go too!”

Kureha-san clenched both fists bravely, though they were visibly shaking.

“You sure? You don’t have to push yourself.”

“I’ll be fine! I definitely won’t be needing that vending machine!”

And with that settled, we entered through the dilapidated hospital entrance
into total darkness—darker than a movie theater. The only source of light
was a tiny penlight the
Attendant gave us.

With Yūsei leading, followed by me, Kureha-san, and then Usaba-san, we

ventured forward into the chilly air. Along the way were gruesome sights
like fetuses in formaldehyde jars, blood-covered operating tables, and piles
of skulls—less supernatural horror, more straight-up gore. Each prop was
high-quality enough to belong in an actual horror film.

“M-Mogi-kun, please don’t leave me behind!”

Kureha-san gripped the back of my shirt tightly. At first, I was touched

thinking, “Wow, her cute, decorated nails are grabbing onto my shirt!” But
soon, her desperate grip caused my collar to choke me several times. Being
adored really hurts.

“Kya! Did you hear something!?”

“It’s fine! Those are just my footsteps.”

“Eek! Did that corpse move!?”

“No worries! Definitely dead.”

While we had exchanges like this, Yūsei walked ahead, enthusiastically

saying things like, “I see,” “Bravo,” or “Nice idea!” impressed by the props,
CGI, and acting performances. My best friend was truly fearless.

Meanwhile, behind me, Usaba-san furiously waved her hand in sharp

cutting motions, chanting, “Rin-pyō-tō-sha-kai-jin-retsu-zai-zen, Rin-pyō-
tō-sha-kai-jin-retsu-zai-zen, Rin-pyō-tō-sha-kai-jin-retsu-zai—ZEN!”

Why the full rapid-fire kuji chant?

Either because her chant was way too realistic or because her bangs made
her look ghostly, the other guests mistook her for a spirit, screaming
“Gyaaa!” and running away. Thanks to
That, there were no other guests around, letting us proceed comfortably.

After stumbling through the terrifying abandoned hospital, we finally

emerged into daylight.

“W-we made it out safely…thank goodness.”

Kureha-san wiped sweat from her forehead with a handkerchief, still

slightly pale. Maybe we’d pushed her a little too far.

“But Mogi-kun, you didn’t look scared at all. You’re so brave!”

“…Yeah.”

Actually, it wasn’t courage. Honestly, the other three were so amusing that I
forgot to be scared at all.

Usaba-san, having overdone the chanting, had a sore throat and eagerly
drank the tea Yūsei bought for her.

“You okay, Usaba?”

“Y-yes, thank you very much.”

“Still, your kuji chant was impressive! Your hand motions, pronunciation—
absolutely flawless!”

A handsome guy complimenting a high-school girl on her kuji chanting was

a bizarre sight, but if it raised Yūsei’s appeal in her eyes, then it was all
good.
◆

We visited several more attractions, and before we knew it, it was already 1
PM. Yūsei casually remarked, “Come to think of it, I’m hungry,” prompting
us to have a late lunch.

Until that very moment, I’d completely forgotten about hunger.

It was just too much fun—

We hadn’t bothered checking the time even once. None of us had even
touched our phones.

They call us Gen Z, addicted to our devices, but when something else is
genuinely fun, smartphones lose all priority.

We headed to the food court at the center of the park. As expected, it was
packed without a single free table in sight—until, luckily, a family in front
of us got up, leaving their table perfectly available. Luck was clearly on our
side today.

We decided who’d go buy food through rock-paper-scissors. We guys

initially offered to do it, but when Kureha-san sweetly suggested, “Let’s
play rock-paper-scissors!” there was no way to refuse. After three ties,
Kureha-san and Yūsei went for food, leaving me and Usaba-san to hold the
seats.

“Um, Mogi-kun,” whispered Usaba-san quietly.

“We’re actually… enjoying today pretty normally, aren’t we?”

“Yeah. Even I’ve managed to talk while making eye contact with Kureha-
san.”

“Me too. I still stutter a bit, but compared to usual…”

“You’ve done great today. You’re really impressive, Usaba-san.”

As we complimented each other, Yūsei’s voice rang out from the drink
stand, surprised:

“Hey, Fukusuke! Look at this! Juice from this vending machine costs 250
yen!”

“…Yeah, well, it’s an amusement park.”

Of course, Yūsei wasn’t being sarcastic—he was genuinely astonished.

Usaba-san commented softly:

“My impression of Fujisaki-kun changed a little today.”

“Right?”

For her, who only knew Yūsei as the charming, cool guy in class, this side
of him was refreshing.

“I feel like I saw a lot of new sides to Kureha-san today too.”

The Kureha Yua I admired from afar in class always seemed like a perfect
girl—flawlessly beautiful, good-natured, smart, without any weaknesses.
But today I felt a deeper closeness, like seeing her in higher resolution.

It seemed like Usaba-san also gained a little confidence from talking to

Yūsei.

“I bought whatever looked good~!”

Kureha-san returned carrying trays loaded with fries, takoyaki, and various
snacks.

“Hey, look, Mogi-kun!”

“Hm?”

“See, earlier I stepped on some popcorn, and now it’s stuck!”

She cheerfully lifted her cute, French-girly platform boots, showing me the
popcorn firmly wedged into the sole. I’d assumed she’d be annoyed, but
instead, she seemed oddly delighted. Maybe conquering the haunted
hospital had gotten her excited.

“Here, Amari-chan, you like churros, right? Try this special apple-cinnamon
flavor!”

“Oh, chelos?”

“Churros!”
“…C-cheros?”

“Chu-ro-s!”

A mysterious argument erupted suddenly. Chelos? Churros?

Honestly, I didn’t even know myself. I’d never thought about it before.

“Right, Mogi-kun? It’s churros, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s chelos. Mogi-kun, you understand, right?”

Seeing Usaba-san get so worked up was rare—ultra-rare, actually. These

two really were close.

“I mean, even if you ask me—”

Why not just look it up on your phones? But I couldn’t suggest that—their
expressions were way too serious. It was sweet seeing the depth of their
friendship as childhood friends, but right now I was stuck in the middle.

“What’s the commotion about?”

Both girls immediately turned toward Yūsei, who had returned with orange
juice for everyone.

“Hey, Yūsei-kun! What’s this called? What do you usually call it?”
Suddenly faced with a churro (or chelo?) held right in front of him, Yūsei
looked confused as to why they were asking such an obvious question, then
replied plainly:
“A long fried breadstick.”

“““That’s definitely wrong!!”””

After that—

We amicably shared the long fried breadstick among the four of us.

We continued having a blast at Tama Park throughout the afternoon.

There was Yūsei, earnestly debating “which horse is fastest” before

hopping onto the merry-go-round; Kureha-san anxiously watching a silent
couple absorbed in their phones, worried they’d break up any moment; and
then there was Usaba-san, quietly pleased while riding the bunny-shaped
go-kart—at least until little kids zoomed past her repeatedly, leaving her
teary-eyed. It was a day where everyone’s unique personalities shined
brightly.
The amusement park was fun.

No doubt, amusement parks themselves are inherently fun.

But—

It was precisely because the four of us came together that today’s fun
multiplied many times over.
Maybe I’m exaggerating by wondering if I’m allowed to feel this happy, but
that’s honestly how I felt.

This dreamy time, though, was gradually coming to an end—

“The Ferris wheel should be last!”

That was Kureha-san’s suggestion.

Fireworks were scheduled to go off at 5 PM over the southern riverside.

Riding the Ferris wheel would give us front-row seats. Apparently, she’d
already done her research, so we lined up half an hour beforehand.

“Hey, Mogi-kun,” she said softly, fiddling with her flax-colored hair
glowing in the sunset.

“If it’s okay…would you like to ride alone with me?”

“…Eh?”
Caught off guard, I stared blankly. I’d just assumed all four of us would ride
together.

“Uh, sure. Of course!”

“Thanks! Then, Amari-chan, you’ll go with Yūsei-kun!”

Usaba-san nodded stiffly but clearly. It didn’t seem like a sudden surprise—
rather, they’d probably planned this beforehand.
Was this related to what Usaba-san mentioned the other day at the
flowerbed?

The gondola, carrying just the two of us, slowly rose from the ground.

Clunk, clunk.
The mechanical sounds reverberated through the floor into my stomach,
adding to the nervousness and making my legs feel strangely restless.
Across from me, Kureha-san seemed to feel the same.

“It’s kind of ticklish, isn’t it?”

She swung her platform-booted legs gently, her short dress fluttering
slightly, occasionally revealing glimpses of soft, unexpectedly full curves.
Every time I almost caught sight of more, I had the urge to pry open the
door and leap out immediately.

“Ah!”

“I-I didn’t look!”

I nearly blurted that out.

“That popcorn stuck to my shoe earlier—it’s gone now!”

Smiling, she showed me the sole of her shoe.

“Oh, you’re right. Good for you.”

“Hehe, I thought it’d be stuck forever!”

She swung her legs again but suddenly froze, blushing slightly, then
carefully fixed the hem of her dress.

“S-sorry about that…”

“N-no, it’s totally fine!”

Maybe the real Kureha-san was naturally playful. Her usual refined, idol-
like demeanor was likely something she’d learned while growing up.

“Sorry, Mogi-kun. I got carried away. Even my invitation earlier was pretty
pushy. Did I scare you?”

“No, absolutely not.”

This was a situation every guy at our school would envy. If I said it scared
me, I’d probably be cursed.

“To tell the truth, I’ve been nervous the whole day.”

“…Eh?”

Her words shocked me.

Nervous? Not me, but…her?

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you today, no matter what.
That’s why I asked Amari-chan in advance to give us a moment alone.”

“…Oh, I see.”

What could she possibly want to say that badly?

She began to speak again.

“Last year, July 23rd, I was at the City Sports Gymnasium—the district
qualifiers for the junior high tournament.”

“…”

I’d never forget that date.

It was the day I played my first and last official match as a member of the
Shibazono Middle School basketball team.

“I didn’t even make it onto the bench, and we lost our first game
immediately. So I was just sitting in the stands, feeling completely empty,
thinking ‘It’s already over…’ while aimlessly watching matches between
other schools. Then, in the middle of the fourth quarter, you appeared.”

“Shibazono Middle School, Number 10—”

She called me by my nostalgic jersey number.

“It was from a distance, so I couldn’t see your face clearly. When Amari-
chan told me about you, I was so surprised. I never imagined that Number
10 back then was you, Mogi-kun.”

So, this must’ve been what Usaba-san meant when she told me earlier,
“Yua-chan knew about you from before.”

“I remember that game clearly. The score gap was already double, there was
hardly any time left, and it felt like the outcome had already been decided.
Even I thought, ‘He’s probably out there just to make memories.’ …Sorry.”

“No, you’re right.”

Near the end of the game, with the team losing badly, sending a 163-cm-tall
third-year who’d spent every previous game on the bench was nothing but
the coach’s kindness—just giving him a “memory.” If I’d been a spectator,
I’d have thought the same.

She continued speaking—

“But I was wrong. You refused to give up—even when the opposing team
had relaxed, confident in their victory. You stuck like glue defending
mismatched opponents, chased loose balls all the way to the edge, diving
and throwing them back onto the court. You shouted louder and ran harder
than anyone.”

“I remember the other team’s supporters heckling me for ‘trying too hard.’”

Kureha-san shook her head.

“You were the only one who hadn’t given up. Your teammates, your coach,
even Yūsei-kun had already given up, but not you. You kept chasing the
ball, fighting to win until the very end. It wasn’t just for memories—you
played with all your heart until the very end—”

She paused briefly.

“When I saw you playing like that, I started crying.”

“You cried?”

“I was in the basketball club too, but I’d already given up by then. I hit a
wall. Passes I once made easily started getting intercepted, shots I took kept
getting blocked. No matter how hard I practiced, I stopped improving—so
eventually, I stopped seriously trying. I stayed in the club to pretend I was
still working hard, but inside, I’d already given up completely.”

She laughed sadly at herself.

“When I saw you, I realized I hadn’t truly done my best. I realized that
while crying uncontrollably. Even though it was already too late. Way too
late for anything…”

She let out a deep sigh.

“I couldn’t shake that feeling, even after entering high school. That’s why,
ever since then, I wanted that Number 10 to hear me.”

“Yeah. I heard you loud and clear.”

I looked directly into her eyes as I said this, meeting her melancholy gaze.
She really was unbelievably beautiful. I felt timid, almost turning away
instinctively—almost running away.

But I held on. I wanted to fully accept her words.

“Thanks, Mogi-kun.”

“Of course.”

“—Haah, I finally said it.”

She let out a relieved breath.

“I’ve wanted to tell you ever since Amari-chan told me about you back in
April. But things got awkward during the ‘Fukusuke Pilgrimage,’ and I
missed my chance—until now. I’m glad I
Finally said it!”

She smiled shyly, then suddenly widened her eyes.

“Ah—!” she cried out, pointing eagerly to the right.

“Look, Mogi-kun! The fireworks! They’ve already started!”

Against the evening sky, vivid bursts of fireworks bloomed spectacularly.

Pop, pop—bright blossoms of color exploded, blossomed, and faded away,

lighting up the dim gondola interior each time.
Illuminating Kureha-san’s pale cheeks, her flax-colored hair, and her
sparkling eyes.

“Wow, it’s so beautiful. Really… truly… they’re the most beautiful

fireworks I’ve ever seen—”

Clear droplets welled up at the corners of her eyes, quickly growing larger,
soaking her eyelashes before silently spilling down her cheeks.

Falling slowly, quietly.

—Ah.

My heart felt like it was being torn apart.

Clawed at, painfully and relentlessly.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from those tears.

They pulled at my heart, holding it captive, utterly helpless.

Ah, damn it all.

I like her.

As the Ferris wheel touched the ground, Kureha-san spoke.

“You know…actually, there’s one more thing I wanted to tell you.”

“O-okay.”

This was tough.

Suddenly, I couldn’t meet her eyes again.

What had once just been admiration had now turned into a clear sense of
liking—

“There’s actually one more way you’ve changed me.”

“…And that is?”

“Hehe, it’s—a secret!”

She smiled, pressing her index finger to her cherry-like lips. It was unfairly
teasing, but her dazzling smile stopped me from pressing further.

“I’ll tell you someday! When I’ve tried a little harder!”

“Alright. I’ll wait.”

After we stepped off, Kureha-san turned her phone back on, then suddenly
exclaimed, “Oh, it’s my mom!” Apparently, she’d missed a call. “Sorry, I’ll
call her back!” she said, running off.

Only afterward did I realize she’d intentionally turned off her phone earlier,
and my heart swelled again with feelings for her.

She must have wanted to take pictures of the fireworks…

Yet she turned it off because we had something important to talk about.

Watching her silhouette fade into the twilight, I suddenly realized

something.

Earlier, Kureha-san had mentioned she didn’t initially realize that Number
10 from Shibazono Middle School was me; she only noticed after Amari-
chan told her.

Which means—Usaba-san must have known all along.

Did she watch that game with Kureha-san back then?

I glanced around, looking for Yūsei and Usaba-san, who’d gotten off before
us. I quickly spotted Yūsei near the entrance of the merry-go-round.

I was about to call out, but then noticed Yūsei was talking to someone else.

Surrounded by three energetic girls, Yūsei stood while, a short distance

away, Usaba-san sat alone on a bench.
I recognized those three.

They were first-years from the Shibazono Middle School girls’ basketball
club—well, second-years now, I guess.

They’d often practiced on the court next to ours and frequently approached
Yūsei. They’d openly declared themselves his fans.

I walked over to Usaba-san. Seeing her lonely expression, the questions I’d
had for her earlier vanished from my mind. My priority now was
comforting her.

“Oh, Mogi-kun.”

She raised her head, offering a small, awkward smile.

“How was it? Did things go well with Yua-chan?”

“Yeah… But, anyway, what happened? Did those girls say something to
you?”

She shook her head slightly.

“They just asked him, ‘Is she your friend?’ And Fujisaki-kun answered,
‘She’s my classmate.’ That was all.”

“But…” she continued softly.

“I just couldn’t help feeling like they were wondering, ‘Why would he be
with such a gloomy girl?’ And I couldn’t raise my head.”
“I get it…”

I painfully understood that feeling.

Even for me, approaching them now would require courage. Those girls
probably wouldn’t even remember the guy who spent every game on the
bench. If my juniors looked at me and wondered, “Who’s that?”, I couldn’t
confidently say I wouldn’t lower my head either.

“How was it in the Ferris wheel?”

“Oh, that… We talked a bit. At first it was awkward, but once the fireworks
started, we spent the whole time taking pictures.”

Hearing that relieved me somewhat.

“Let’s go over to Yūsei, Usaba-san.”

I tried to sound cheerful.

“Those girls are juniors from our middle school basketball club. They
probably won’t remember me, but…we should walk over with confidence.
We’re the ones who came here with Yūsei today.”

“…Mogi-kun…”

She stood up from the bench, taking a step toward Yūsei—but then froze in
place.
“If…if again…”

Her voice trembled.

“What if I end up causing trouble for you and Fujisaki-kun again, like I did
with Yua-chan…?”

“Usaba-san…”

I didn’t know what to say to encourage her. I couldn’t find the words.
Because I deeply understood her feelings—I couldn’t just casually say
something like, “It’ll be fine,” or “Be brave.” I didn’t want to say something
superficial like that.

After finishing her call, Kureha-san came back toward us.

“What’s wrong, you two? Where’s Yūsei-kun?”

“Oh. Apparently, he ran into some juniors from our middle school club.”

Just then, Yusei turned toward us and called out, “Kureha!” waving her
over.

“I wonder what’s up? I’ll go check it out!”

She quickly joined them.

Probably basketball talk. Since the girls’ basketball team at Kureha-san’s

former middle school was also strong, maybe they wanted advice from her.
Yūsei was a nice guy and a good senior—if his juniors needed something
related to basketball, refusing wouldn’t even cross his mind.

Almost immediately, Kureha-san became friendly with the juniors she’d

just met. Even from here, we could hear their cheerful voices. Yūsei
mimicked a free-throw motion holding an imaginary ball; the girls cheered
loudly in response to whatever Kureha-san said.

Standing still, silently, the two of us watched their lively circle without us.

“Maybe we should head to the entrance first.”

“…Yeah.”

My first amusement park trip with a girl.

A day that could probably be called a double date.

By any modest assessment, it had been a success.

It was a wonderful day.

I’d definitely never forget the Ferris wheel, the fireworks I watched with
Kureha-san, or the tears she shed.

And I’m sure Usaba-san enjoyed herself too.

She’d definitely grown closer to Yūsei.

It was supposed to be a day when everything went well.

But at the very end, both of us were left with a bitter taste.
 Chapter 8

The next morning—Monday.

My sister once said, “The day after your first date is always the most
embarrassing!”

Yesterday’s amusement park wasn’t exactly a date, but I understood exactly

what she meant. It probably sounds overly self-conscious and creepy, but I
really didn’t know how to
Greet Kureha-san today.

While still nervously debating this, I entered the classroom and immediately
bumped into her.

“Good morning, Mogi-kun.”

“O-ohf…morning.”

Yep. Another awkward “ohf” start to my day.

I’ve completely reverted to how I was back in April.

Just say it already: “Thanks for yesterday. Let’s get along from now on,
too!”

But before I could, she breezed past me to her seat and began preparing for
class, causing my hand—already halfway raised—to awkwardly hover
midair.
………

……W-well, the day’s still young!

Feeling pathetic, I tried to comfort myself as I slumped into my chair, when

suddenly my phone chimed from inside my bag.
Glancing at the screen, I nearly let out a shout:

Yua: Thanks for yesterday! It was seriously SO much fun!

Yua: Let’s keep getting along, okay?

My head snapped up instinctively. Across the classroom, holding her phone,

Kureha-san grinned mischievously at me with an expression that said,
“Gotcha!” Her cheeks were just slightly flushed.

With trembling fingers, I typed a reply.

Fukusuke: I had fun too. Thanks for yesterday.

Fukusuke: Let’s definitely keep getting along!

Immediately, she replied with a fancy dog sticker—something no guy

would ever use.

Yesterday, on the train ride home, she’d asked, “It’s kind of late, but wanna
exchange LINE contacts?”

Her LINE icon—the ID that every guy at school would desperately want—
was a picture of her dog, Waon, a pure-white female toy poodle she’d had
since first grade. She happily told me all about Waon on the train. The
entire time, I felt like I was floating on clouds.

Meanwhile, Usaba-san also exchanged LINE with Yūsei. Following

Kureha-san’s lead, Yūsei casually said, “Guess we should swap too.”
Despite him being notoriously bad at LINE—often leaving messages
unread—it was still an ID that practically every girl at school would die for.
Though hesitant, with some support from Kureha-san, Usaba-san
successfully exchanged contacts with him.

The day had gone perfectly.

Our “double-date-like” outing was undoubtedly a success.

…Or at least, it should’ve been.

Although things had felt uneasy at the very end, it lasted no more than ten
minutes at most.

Just a tiny stain—like a single drop on a clean white sheet. You’d hardly
notice unless you really looked for it closely.

However—

Being the negative thinkers we were, it was easy for us to obsessively

magnify that small blemish. Sometimes, it felt like we intentionally
enlarged it ourselves. That was something we needed to work on, but…

Just then, Usaba-san arrived at school.

She was noticeably later than usual.

Her face looked a little thinner somehow. Perhaps she was still exhausted
from yesterday.

“Morning, Usaba-san.”

“Oh, good morning, Mogi-kun.”

She sounded mostly like herself, but her voice definitely lacked its usual
energy.

I really hoped she wasn’t letting yesterday bother her…

Our third-period P.E. was set aside for practicing for the upcoming ball
sports tournament.

We split into our respective teams, each practicing in their own way.

Yūsei—who’d been banned from basketball by the advisor—was now

playing soccer, gracefully dribbling around even during practice. He really
was good at anything athletic. If only he wasn’t such an airhead, he’d be
perfect.

Meanwhile, my baseball team practiced catch, took some easy grounders,

and confirmed defensive strategies in a corner of the field.

Since I was the catcher, I paired up with Inoue-kun—the delinquent—as he

practiced pitching.
“Straight ball coming next, Fukucchi!”

“Alright, bring it!”

The ball hit my mitt with a crisp pop.

“Nice pitch!” I called back, tossing him the ball. My hand tingled. His
straight fastballs, thrown from his long right arm, had some serious speed.
An amateur wouldn’t even come close.

Depending on how many baseball club players joined the tournament, we

might have a real shot.

After a solid pitching session, we moved onto a cool-down catch, throwing

gentle arcs at conversational distance.

“You seem pretty fired up, Inoue-kun.”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Did you play baseball before?”

He returned the ball quickly but hesitated slightly before responding.

“Up until fall of my second year. Not at school, but in the local seniors’
league.”

“I see. Did you get injured or something?”

It seemed an odd time to quit mid-season.

“Well…”

He looked uncertain before finally explaining.

“I guess it was a slump. Even though I was just a second-year, I was the
ace. During the summer city semifinals, I kept the other team scoreless the
whole time.”

“That’s amazing.”

“Then right at the end, when I was just one batter away from a shutout
victory, I threw a bad pitch and bam—gave up the game-winning hit.
Baseball can be cruel. No matter how perfectly you pitch before, just one
mistake at the end ruins everything.”

His words, “One mistake ruins everything,” stung deeply. I immediately

thought back to yesterday—to that final moment with me and Usaba-san.

“But that was just one pitch, right? Every other pitch was great. If you
threw a hundred pitches, ninety-nine were perfect.”

“My coach said the same thing. Told me not to worry, said I’d pitch again
next tournament. But after that game, something just broke. My pitches
wouldn’t go where I wanted. I dragged my feet, started skipping practice,
began fooling around, and well—here I am now.”

He laughed, pointing at his spiky hair.

“But you know, sometimes I still wonder—what if I’d kept pushing? Where
would I be now?”
“Feels like unfinished business?”

He muttered softly, “Dunno,” staring off into the distance.

He was just like Kureha-san. And somewhat like me. She had regrets; I’d
burned out. But the line between them was unclear. No one else could
decide it. Probably, not even you yourself knew for sure.

Had you truly given it your all?

Or was there still more you could’ve done…?

“So, you know—”

His voice pulled me back to reality.

“I wanna test myself again. Go up against baseball club members or guys

still seriously playing baseball, see how far I can go. Maybe then I’ll finally
figure something out.”

“Oh, I see.”

So, that’s why he’d argued so fiercely with Karibu-sensei over the rules
earlier.

I didn’t know if what he was doing had meaning or not. But to him, this ball
sports tournament clearly wasn’t just another school event.

“I’ll catch your pitches seriously during the real match.”

“Really now? Even if I throw something nasty?”

He laughed as he said it.

But I answered without smiling.

“I’ll catch them. Even if I have to use my body.”

“…”

He stopped laughing, his expression turning slightly bitter.

“I wish I’d had a teammate like you back in seniors, Fukucchi.”

Lunchtime.

As usual, I waited for Usaba-san on the stairway landing, but she didn’t
show up. Maybe the girls were late changing today.

I was hoping we could chat about yesterday…

I’d even bought one of her favorite sweet treats—a chocolate-banana crepe.
It was from a convenience store, not as tasty as the ones from a shop, but I
just wanted her to feel a bit
Better.
After about five minutes, I finally heard footsteps climbing the stairs.

“You’re late, Usaba-san. I was getting worried.”

She didn’t respond, just stood quietly with her head lowered.

Instead of her usual convenience store lunch bag, she was holding her
school bag.

“Are you going home? Leaving early?”

Without looking up, she nodded.

“Actually, I’ve felt bad since this morning. My body feels heavy, and…”

“A cold? Do you have a fever?”

“…No, not really…”

She finally raised her head, offering a weak smile on her pale face.

“I’ll tell you honestly, since it’s you, Mogi-kun. I’m skipping class… Well,
I guess it’s more like leaving early without a real reason.”

“But your face really looks pale.”

She shook her head slightly.

“Earlier, during third period, we had dance practice for the sports festival.
But I couldn’t keep up, and everyone had to redo the same part again and
again because of me. Eventually, I
Made the teacher angry.”

“Which teacher?”

“Gouda-sensei.”

I instantly understood. Gouda-sensei was the type of passionate gym

teacher whose whole personality could be summed up as “grit.” To him,
failing meant not trying hard enough.

“I’m really clumsy, so no matter how many times they corrected me, I
couldn’t keep up. Even my classmates started sighing in frustration. In the
end, they had me practice alone.”

“Oh…”

Just hearing that made my chest ache. I’d experienced similar things
myself. Being shorter than others meant living with more hardships than
average.

“B-but, yesterday was fun, right?”

I forced a bright voice.

“Even if the end wasn’t perfect, overall it was great, wasn’t it? You
shouldn’t feel down.”
She nodded softly.

“It really was fun. More than I ever imagined. But…that made it feel even
less real. On my way home, my chest felt so tight. It felt like everything that
happened was just a dream. And then I wondered who I was, alone in my
apartment after all that.”

“…Yeah, I get that.”

After hanging out loudly with friends at karaoke, sometimes, on the quiet
ride home alone, I’d suddenly snap back to reality. Even while thinking,
“Today was great,” I’d inexplicably feel lonely, empty. What was that
feeling?

“After the Ferris wheel, I realized something. Getting closer to Fujisaki-kun

means having to deal with things like that. He’s popular, outgoing, with lots
of friends. I’m the total opposite.

Even if I manage to talk with him normally someday, I could never fit in
with his friends.

Chatting cheerfully with everyone, smiling easily—I just can’t.”

“I’m not confident about it either. But…maybe we can overcome things

little by little.”

“You’re right,” she said weakly. It clearly didn’t cheer her up at all.

“You’re doing really well, though, Mogi-kun. If things keep going this way,
I think you’ll get along even better with Yua-chan. Maybe you’ll become
good friends…or even her boyfriend someday.”

Even though that should’ve made me happy, it didn’t at all.

“…But…”

But you too, Usaba-san—

I almost said that, but stopped myself. No words would comfort her right
now. When you’re emotionally exhausted, what you need isn’t
encouragement, but rest.

“Well then, I’ll go.”

“Yeah—oh, can you get home alright?”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. What was I saying?
She’d said she lived alone. No one would be coming to pick her up. And I
couldn’t exactly skip afternoon classes to take her home.

She stopped on the stairs, turned, and looked back at me.

“I’ll be fine! I can get home by myself.”

She smiled weakly, holding up a peace sign.

Her fingers lacked strength, clearly forced.

Then she continued down the stairs, disappearing from my sight.

That fragile peace sign lingered vividly in my mind long after she was
gone.

The next day, Tuesday, Usaba-san didn’t come to school.

She was absent again on Wednesday.

And in four days—this coming Sunday—was the ball sports tournament.

Surely, she didn’t intend to stay absent until after the tournament?

She did reply when I sent messages. I was relieved she wasn’t the type to
ignore messages, but her replies consisted only of stickers—a bruised
bunny crying “I’m sorry”—with no words
Attached.

During break, I mustered up the courage to ask Kureha-san.

“Have you heard from Usaba-san?”

“No. You neither, Mogi-kun?”

“I send her LINE messages, but she just replies with stickers.”

“The same with me…”

Her voice sounded unusually down.

“Did something really bad happen during Monday’s dance practice?”

“The teacher spoke sternly, but nothing especially harsh. It’s just that
Amari-chan has some trauma with situations like this.”

“Trauma?”

She thought for a moment before continuing.

“Amari-chan is an incredibly kind person who strongly wants to help or

make others happy. Like how she plants flowers in the school garden and
arranges them in the classroom vases.”

“I’ve noticed. She decorates the room with fresh flowers almost every
week.”

Hearing this, she smiled warmly.

“I knew you’d notice, Mogi-kun. That’s so like you.”

“Because she’s an important friend to me, too.”

This week, the vase atop the lockers remained empty.

No one else seemed to notice. Whether flowers were there or not, the class
probably didn’t care.

But still, I missed them.

“So this time, her kindness ended up backfiring?”

Kureha-san nodded.

“I think she just can’t stand causing trouble for everyone else. She probably
thought about dragging down the class’s performance, and chose the path
that seemed least troublesome.”

“So that’s why she stayed home.”

Logically speaking, it might’ve been the best choice. She wasn’t going to
magically improve her dancing skills within a week, so maybe her absence
would actually boost the class’s overall score.

But still…

Wasn’t that incredibly sad?

Usaba-san was part of our class, too.

“……”

“Mogi-kun?”

“Sorry, I just…”

Leaving behind a puzzled-looking Kureha-san who clearly wanted to talk

more, I hurried out of the classroom.
Right now, I didn’t feel like speaking with the girl I liked. Realizing this
made my heart feel heavy—I was surprised by my own emotions.

I knew exactly why.

It was because Usaba-san wasn’t here.

She wasn’t the type who’d initiate conversations or energize a group chat.
She tended to quietly disappear into silence whenever others talked. Some
might call her invisible, the type whose presence made no difference. But I
didn’t see her that way. Not at all. Her presence alone was enough to give
me strength. Just knowing I had a friend nearby who shared the
Same struggles made me braver.

But…

Was I the only one who felt that way?

Had I really not managed to encourage her at all?

“One-sided feelings…unrequited affection.”

Sure, having an unrequited crush on the most popular girl in class was
painful enough.

But this kind of unrequited feeling hurt just as badly—maybe even more.

“…This hurts, Usaba-san…”

◆
At dinner that evening.

Since my sister got home early for once, I decided to cook her favorite
spicy curry. Usually, it turned out pretty good, but today I accidentally
burned the potatoes, making it less tasty than usual. I was too distracted by
thoughts of Usaba-san. Even so, my sister kept telling me how delicious it
was as she ate.

After finishing dinner, as we sipped cold barley tea—

“So? How are things going with Amari-chan lately, Fuku-chan?”

She asked casually, but right now, it hit me hard.

“Well…honestly, things haven’t been going great.”

“What do you mean by ‘not great’?”

I explained everything that had happened recently.

“Ohh. So she’s avoiding you, huh?”

Avoiding me.

From an outsider’s perspective, that was certainly how it looked. Yet

hearing it put so bluntly still hurt deeply.

“But you know, Fuku-chan, I don’t think it’s your fault. Nor is it Amari-
chan’s fault, really. You guys are just temporarily confused about how to
find your courage.”

“Finding courage?”

I didn’t know anything about that.

That was probably why when I tried to tell her, “Let’s be brave,” it never
really resonated.

“Wait here a sec.”

My sister got up and came back from her room holding her personal tablet
—the one she used privately, separate from her work devices.

“Watch this.”

I peered into the screen as she tapped play. It showed the interior of a
familiar gymnasium—a basketball match. The uniforms moving
energetically across the court were unmistakable: Shibazono Middle
School’s basketball jerseys. At the center of the screen was the shortest
player—number 10.

“Wait, is that…me?”

It was footage from that game—my first and last official match.

“Wh-why? Did you film this? You came to watch, Sis?!”

“Sure did!” she said proudly, puffing up her chest.

“I’d been adjusting my work schedule for over a month, you know! It was
pretty tough.”

“But you couldn’t have even known if I was gonna play…”

“That didn’t matter at all!”

She said this firmly.

“It didn’t matter if you played or not. If you hadn’t, I planned on cheering
for you while you cheered your teammates from the bench.”

“Playing or not doesn’t matter♪,” she repeated cheerfully.

“Even now, when I mess up at work and start feeling down, I watch this
video to get courage from you.”

In the video, I desperately chased after the ball.

Jumping, reaching out with everything I had, trying to grab passes that
sailed far above my head.

But the ball always ended up in the opponent’s hands.

And I chased after it again.

The cycle repeated endlessly.

Watching the footage made it painfully clear—I never had any chance of
catching those passes. But still, I jumped with all my might, reaching out
despite knowing I’d never reach them.

“It’s not as big a deal as you make it sound.”

Without realizing it, I was gripping my sweaty hands tightly.

“The only time I’ve ever seriously tried in my life was this once. Just once.
Other than this, all I’ve done is run away. Constantly running away—I can’t
even look at the girl I like, or properly cheer up an important friend. That’s
who I am.”

“Maybe you’re right,” she didn’t deny.

“But you did your best this one time, didn’t you? You didn’t run away here,
right?”

“…”

“Then someday, you’ll be able to do it again. You already know you’re

capable of doing your best.”

The whistle sounded from the video.

Number 10 headed off the court as he was substituted. The footage was
blurry from a distance, but his expression seemed clear, refreshed. He
looked satisfied.

That was me too.

The me sulking here was me.

And the me in that video was also me.

“…Sis.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve driven Usaba-san home once before, right? Do you remember

where her place is?”

She flashed me a bright smile, giving me a thumbs-up.

“You betcha! Leave it to your big sis!”

“…”

It felt awfully outdated—definitely something from the Showa era—but I

decided not to comment for now.

The place my sister parked in front of was the tallest tower apartment
building in the neighborhood.

“Hard to forget such a distinctive building after dropping someone off here
once, huh?”

She was right. On clear days, you could even see the upper floors from my
house.
“The room is on the top floor, she said.”

“The top floor? What number?”

“It seems this building has only one unit on the top floor. I wonder how
many rooms it has…?”

I was speechless.

I’m pretty sure Usaba-san said she lived alone, right?

What kind of parents let their daughter live alone in a place like that? Just
what kind of family does she have?

“Thanks, sis. You’ve still got work after this, right? I can take the train
home.”

“Alright. Take care, okay? And good luck!”

After watching her tail lights fade into the distance, I mustered up my
courage and stepped into the entrance.

I checked the mailbox to confirm the room number on the top floor.
Nervously, careful not to press the wrong button, I rang the intercom. After
the tone, there was a long pause. Just as I started worrying she might not be
home, a familiar voice came through the speaker.

‘Mogi-kun?! Wh-why are you here?’

“Sorry for showing up suddenly.”

Relieved, I apologized first.

“I know it’s an inconvenience, but I really wanted to talk to you, Usaba-san.

Would you open up?”

For a while, only static came from the speaker.

Then, with a faint electronic beep, the automatic doors opened in front of
me.

‘Come in. Please take the elevator right there.’

A deep blue carpet stretched across the hallway floor, making it look like
the interior of a luxury hotel. I rode the almost-silent elevator up to the 45th
floor, and there she was, standing at her door. She was dressed exactly like
at school, her headphones hanging around her neck, still wearing her
uniform skirt. Could it be that she actually intended to go to school this
morning?

Seeing me, an awkward smile appeared on her lips.

“Oh, um… ahaha.”

“Haha.”

Both of us shared an awkward laugh—half embarrassment, half

awkwardness. Strange as it was, laughing was really all we could do at this
point.

“P-please, come in.”

“Thank you.”

Inside, it really was like a luxury hotel—more like a royal suite. The glossy
floors were cold, accompanied by a crystal glass low table and shiny leather
Chesterfield sofas. It was gorgeous but felt completely unlived-in. The
furniture looked nothing like something Usaba-san would pick herself.

“You actually live here?”

“No, actually, I mainly live in this room.”

The room she showed me was about six tatami mats in size. A PC, several
gaming consoles, manga, anime guidebooks—everything neatly arranged.
Her computer was a glowing gaming rig. The contrast from the living room
was stunning.

“Isn’t this less of a room and more like a walk-in closet?”

“But this is the only place I feel relaxed.”

At last, a touch of her real self.

Usaba-san brewed some tea, and we drank together in her gaming

sanctuary. The tea set was something you’d find in a high-class hotel
lounge, yet the tea itself was a bulk-purchase supermarket tea bag. Even
this gap hinted at complicated circumstances invisible at school.

But let’s leave that aside for now.

“You seem healthy enough.”

Her hand paused, holding her cup.

“So is there another reason you’re not coming to school?”

Feeling bad for asking such an uncomfortable question, I silently

apologized.

After an awkward silence, she began speaking.

“I’m really bad at anything team-related. Even FPS—I never play because I
know I’ll just drag my teammates down. I only play games I can do alone.”

“I get it. I totally get it.”

The awkwardness of holding back your team—especially clear in

basketball. When you’re the only short one, the opposing team relentlessly
targets you as a defensive weak point. My existence alone became the
team’s vulnerability.

I know exactly how painful that is—

“I think it’s better if I’m not there for the upcoming ball tournament.”

Her lonely words quietly fell onto the wooden floor.

“Wh-why would you think like that? You did great at Tama-Pa. I know
dancing is different, but if you keep trying without running away, someday
—”
Someday.

Effort should be rewarded.

—Is that really true?

Even as I said that to her, I was questioning myself.

Another version of myself was challenging me.

—Effort always pays off?

—Do you really believe that, Mogi Fukusuke?
—Humans have things they can and can’t do.
—Like your height that never grew.

No.

No. That’s not true—

Shaking my head vigorously, I chased away my pessimism.

What am I here for?

Tell me, Mogi Fukusuke.

Why did you come here?

Wasn’t it because you had something important to tell her?

“Usaba-san.”

“…Yes?”

“Please listen to my story. About a certain short basketball player.”

She nodded silently, and I began.

About everything I had never told anyone before.

I opened up to my precious friend.

“He loved basketball. He just enjoyed basketball. Chasing the ball, scoring
and getting scored on—it was all fun. Back in elementary school, he could
even play in games; he never
Found basketball painful at all. But soon, the gap started to widen. They
began sorting players as upper and lower groups based on height, and he
was classified as ‘lower.’ His
Height…”

As I said those words, something clogged my throat.

But still, I said them.

“His height never grew.”

My cheeks felt hot.

Usaba-san listened quietly.

“Everyone else kept getting taller. By the time Yūsei entered middle school,
he was nearly 175 centimeters. But this guy…he fell behind. Even those
who started later caught up and surpassed him. He was always benched.
Even improving other skills didn’t help. Players with his athletic ability
were plentiful. The coach even told him, ‘You’re not bad, but that alone
Won’t get you anywhere.’”

“But…”

Usaba-san quietly interjected.

“But he didn’t quit, right? That person.”

I nodded.

“The club was tough, and many quit because of the harsh training. But he
didn’t. Somehow, he just couldn’t give up. He kept thinking if he continued
trying, something good might
Happen someday.”

Even looking back now, I still don’t know why he had such hope.

“It wasn’t that his effort paid off, but at the very end, he finally got to play
in a match. He went out determined to leave an impression, to give it his all.
But it didn’t work out. It was terrible—really made it clear why he’d been
benched all that time. But he gave it everything.

He finished it completely. And after that, he decided to quit basketball. He

felt he’d done all he could in middle school and chose something else to do
in high school.”
It’s not a lie.

That’s not a lie at all.

“But sometimes, I wonder if he just ran away. Maybe he was simply

running from basketball. There’s a part of me that wonders if it’s really
okay to end things that pathetically. It confuses me…”

Toward the end, my voice became hoarse.

“It’s true I gave it my all. And it’s true I never wanted to feel that way
again.”

Which one is the real me?

Which one is telling the truth?

I don’t know.

“So that’s why…”

At that moment, a thought suddenly came to me.

It rapidly took shape in my mind. It might be just a sudden impulse. But

maybe that impulse was actually the vague uncertainty I’d been carrying
deep inside me finally taking form.
Putting it into words, it would be something like this:

“That guy—no, I—am going to play basketball in the tournament.”

I spoke as if confirming my own words.

“I’ll ask myself again: Was that really the best I could do, or could I have
done more?”

“…”

“Hey, Usaba-san. Will you come cheer for me?”

Usaba-san looked at me.

“Me? Not Yua-chan?”

“Yes, you. I’m asking you, Usaba-san.”

My voice regained its strength.

I could feel energy returning to my body.

I’d finally met a girl who shared my worries.

I wanted her to see me giving my all.

“You can skip the dance. Instead, just come cheer me on. Cheer louder than
anyone from outside the court.”

Usaba-san looked down. Was she thinking about her answer, or searching
for a way to refuse? I didn’t know. I didn’t want to rush her. I wouldn’t do
something to my precious friend that I hated having done to me.
“If you’re small, jump higher.”

I recited those words from the poster.

“I’ll give it another shot.”

The next day at lunch, I took action right away.

Hearing that the guys playing basketball were practicing in the gym, I
headed straight there.

There were exactly five participants from Class 1-1, just enough to form a
basketball team.

Only one had real experience: Murota-kun, who played mini-basketball in

elementary school.

He acted as the group’s leader. He was a self-proclaimed all-around type

(“good at sports and academics,” he says), with the catchphrase “I’m a
perfectionist.” But in reality, he was pretty average at everything, earning
him the nickname “Mr. Straight-B’s.”

“Huh? You wanna join now? Well, I guess it’s okay, but…”

Murota-kun looked at me skeptically when I suddenly appeared, asking to

join while still playing baseball. He was the second-tallest guy after Yūsei,
supposedly 180 cm tall—though according to delinquent Inoue-kun’s intel,
“That guy’s lying, he’s actually 179 cm.” Either way, from my 163 cm
perspective, I envied anyone who could even pretend to be taller.

“You confident, Mogi-kun? I don’t wanna get dragged down. I’m a

perfectionist, y’know?”

His suspicion was obvious. His face practically screamed, “You serious
with that height?” as he spun the basketball casually on his index finger.

“I played basketball with Yūsei until middle school.”

“Huh, really?”

Taking advantage of his momentary surprise, I snatched the ball from him.
Despite the half-year gap, my body remembered. The ball settled into my
palm as if magnetized.

Dribbling, I quickly moved toward the right side, hiding the ball behind my
back to avoid his reaching left hand, then switching smoothly from right
hand to left and executing a turn.

Right then—

Just speed won’t be enough.

My athleticism alone can’t generate exceptional speed.

Instead, it’s about rhythm.

Switching gears at exactly the right moment. It’s the only way a smaller
player can defeat a larger one.
—Right now!

“Whoa?!”

The perfectionist’s left hand swung at air.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t keep up with my speed; rather, he couldn’t slow

his own momentum. I stopped abruptly, causing him to stumble forward
helplessly.

From a standstill, I accelerated again toward the goal.

Swish—a crisp sound echoed through the gym.

The sound of the ball slipping through the net.

No matter how many times I hear it, I love that sound. It makes every bit of
struggle, every hardship, feel worthwhile.

The bouncing ball rolled slowly away, while Murota-kun and the other four
stood staring blankly.

“So? Will you let me join?”

Maybe I was trying too hard to look cool, but I asked anyway.

Murota-kun nodded rapidly, his attitude changing instantly.

“I’m the perfectionist, Murota Masaru! Nice to have you, Fuku!”

Suddenly he was calling me by nickname and even reaching for a
handshake. The quick turnaround was obvious, but I appreciated the
simplicity. Class 1-1 really is full of great personalities. Even those who
seem irritating at first turn out to be good people once you get to know
them.

After that, we practiced passing and shooting for a while.

“Man, you’re seriously good, Fuku. Second-best player after me, maybe?”

Though Murota-kun praised me, I was still far from my peak. At best, I
might be good enough to impress during PE class. I couldn’t honestly call
myself experienced at this level.

Almost a year had passed since my last summer playing basketball. I hadn’t
even casually touched a basketball since then. That gap was huge. An
already-mediocre player slacking
Off—that wasn’t easy to overcome. And we only had two days left.

But I wanted to do everything I could.

After practicing with Murota-kun and the others until five, I went alone to
the public gym near the station. They had a basketball court available for
cheap rentals. Yūsei and I used to practice there whenever club activities
got canceled. The online reservations were already full, but maybe someone
canceled.
When I asked the receptionist, he said: “Sorry, a slot opened briefly but
someone else immediately booked it.”
“I see…”

Maybe the person who booked it was from Miyanomori High—another

class or another grade. If they’re from a different grade, perhaps they’d let
me practice with them?

Just as I turned to peek into the court, someone called out from behind.

“Where’re you going, Fukusuke?”

It was my best friend, carrying his usual enormous sports bag.

“Yūsei? What are you doing here?”

“I heard from Murota and the guys that you’re playing basketball. I figured
you’d come here.”

“Yeah, but all the slots were already taken.”

“Yeah, because I’m the one who reserved it.”

My best friend flashed a bright smile, refreshing as sparkling soda.

“I know you too well. How many years do you think we’ve been friends?”

“…Haha.”

Scratching my head, I looked up at Yūsei, who towered over me. Not just
physically—he was a bigger person in every sense, a scale I couldn’t match.
“But what about your club activities? Aren’t you still supposed to be
practicing around this time?”

“I told them I’d be training on my own. I’ve got some freedom, after all—
I’m the team’s star player!”

He laughed, but then a slight sadness appeared on his face.

“If I weren’t the ace, we could’ve teamed up again for once, just like old
times.”

At that moment, another boy quietly stepped out from behind Yūsei’s tall
frame.

It was Akiyama-kun.

He immediately started warming up, his expression as if saying,

“I’ve been here the whole time.”

“Huh? Why is Akiyama-kun here, too?”

Yūsei answered.

“Seems like he wants to play basketball as well. He tagged along without

asking, but that’s okay, right?”

“I mean, sure, but…”

Akiyama-kun continued his overly enthusiastic stretches.

“Akiyama-kun, what happened to kabaddi?”

“Kabaddi? What are you talking about?”

He looked genuinely puzzled.

Shouldn’t I be the one making that face right now?

“I mean, before, you kept chanting ‘kabaddi, kabaddi’…”

“I’m being serious here. Could you not joke around?”

“…”

Well, whatever.

Thanks to them, I was able to practice late into the night with my best
friend and a new friend.

Amari’s Night

Be brave.

Be brave.

Please, be brave. Be brave. Be brave.

“…I can’t do it…”

It was 10 PM.
A weak voice echoed through the cold, empty living room.

Amari sat curled up on the sofa like a small stone, knees hugged tightly to
her chest.

“Mogi-kun…”

Tomorrow was the ball sports tournament. He’d asked her to come cheer
him on. He’d even said, “You don’t need to dance.”

She felt overwhelmingly happy.

Was it really alright to feel such happiness—such joy at hearing those

words from the boy she had admired for so long?

That happiness confused her.

Mogi-kun.

Fukusuke-kun.

Fukusuke-kun.

Why are you so kind?

Did she really deserve kindness from someone like Mogi Fukusuke?
She couldn’t help thinking this way.

She hated how negative she was. Why couldn’t she just say “Yes” honestly?
If she was as bright and cheerful as Yua, she’d eagerly accept his invitation.

Speaking of Yua, she’d just gotten a message from her a moment ago.

Yua: Hey, did you hear?

Yua: Mogi-kun’s playing basketball!

Yua: Let’s cheer him on together, Amari-chan!

Yua: Let’s cheer extra loud to make up for last time!!

The flood of emojis and stickers showed how excited Yua was.

Amari hadn’t told her yet that Fukusuke had visited her home.

(Mogi-kun talked with me so much.)

(He even told me why he stopped playing basketball in high school, without
hiding anything.)

The reason was painfully bitter.

She’d always seen him as a shining star. She had no idea he carried such
pain.
(And yet, Fukusuke-kun…)

(He’s surely going back on the court for my sake—to encourage me.)

At that moment, her phone rang.

Not a message. An incoming call.

Nervously glancing at the screen, she saw an icon of basketball shoes.

“Fujisaki-kun…? Why?”

Ever since exchanging contacts, he’d never messaged her even once.

Cautiously, she tapped “accept.”

‘Sorry for calling this late. It’s me, Fujisaki Yūsei, from your class.’

‘Ah, yes! Um, this is Usaba Amari, also from your class.’

They exchanged polite greetings, both a bit awkwardly formal.

‘Sorry about the sudden call. I’m not good with texts, so I figured it’d be
easier to talk directly.’

‘Y-yes… Um, what’s this about?’

‘Actually, I wanted to thank you, Usaba.’

His voice was sincere.

‘The reason Fukusuke decided to play basketball again is thanks to you,

right?’

‘Eh…?’

‘He didn’t say anything, but I’m certain. It was because of you, wasn’t it?’

After a pause, Amari quietly answered, “Yes.”

Yūsei laughed gently, as if he’d expected it.

‘Ever since becoming your friend, Fukusuke seems… happier. Like he’s got
a little sister to take care of, someone he wants to protect. That’s the look
he’s got on his face.’

‘…A little sister…’

‘Ah, sorry. Should I have said ‘girlfriend’ instead?’

‘Wh-what?! No, no, I’m not… someone like that…!’

Yūsei’s voice remained serious.

‘I really want to play basketball with him again. If I forced him, he might
agree—but that wouldn’t mean anything. So…’

On the other side of the call, it felt like he bowed his head.
‘Thank you, Usaba.’

‘…’

Tears welled up slowly in Amari’s eyes.

‘Thank you for getting Fukusuke back onto the basketball court.’

No.

No, that’s wrong.

‘That’s not true, Fujisaki-kun…’

‘What’s wrong, Usaba? Are you crying?’

‘That’s not true. No… you’re wrong…!’

Crying uncontrollably, Amari repeated it again and again.

No. It wasn’t like that.

She hadn’t done anything worth gratitude.

Fukusuke-kun had done so much—so, so much for her.

From the very beginning, he’d always been kind.

He’d closed the rooftop window for her.

He’d noticed her flowers.

He’d saved her from that harasser.

He’d eaten crepes with her.

He’d invited her to Tama-Pa, saying it wouldn’t be fun without her.

They’d shared pizza together with his sister.

He’d said, “Let’s be ‘normal’ together.”

And yet…

She hadn’t done anything for him.

‘I haven’t given Fukusuke-kun anything back yet…!’

 Chapter 9

And so, the day of the ball game tournament arrived.

It was a school event taking up an entire Sunday. Normally, you’d expect at

least some complaints from students, but as far as I knew, no one was
grumbling. The whole class—no, the whole school—was fired up. Rumors
spread that students were even betting on the outcomes and rankings online,
to the point where the school had to send out an email warning everyone:
“Do not participate in gambling,” and “If you see a social media post
recruiting participants, report it to a teacher immediately.”

I can’t afford to get swept up in this frenzy.

Can I stay true to my own battle in the middle of all this?

We lost in the first round of baseball.

Yankee Inoue gave it his all. Our first match was bright and early at 9 a.m.,
and we were up against Class 4—one of the tournament favorites, with
three baseball team members.

Almost everyone expected them to dominate. Yet, up until the bottom of the
third inning, Inoue’s pitching was flawless, keeping their scoreboard at
zero. His sheer intensity left the opposing bench stunned and had our own
teammates murmuring, “Is this for real?”

But it all ended in the bottom of the fourth.

The three baseball team members, who had been lounging on the bench
playing mobile games to conserve energy, suddenly got serious—and the
momentum shifted. As the catcher, I could feel the pressure the moment
they stepped up to bat. Until then, Inoue had held them to no hits, but now,
they were effortlessly launching his pitches into the outfield.

The moment they got on base, their sheer speed threw our defense into
complete disarray.

Inoue was overwhelmed by just those three batters, drained of both stamina
and focus, and soon, the rest of the lineup started hitting as well.

We gave up six runs in the fourth inning, then another four in the fifth, and
just like that, we were eliminated by a called game.

“Sorry. I let one ball get past me.”

As I walked up to the mound, Inoue grinned and pulled me into a hug.

“Nice catch!”

His voice was hoarse, thick with unshed tears.

I looked up, clenching my teeth hard.

I can’t just let this end on a note of “We gave it our all.”

I still have something left to do today.

◆

As far as I know, there are two sports where height is an absolute

advantage.

One, of course, is basketball.

The other is volleyball.

“This is a joke, right?”

Murota, the all-rounder in our class, muttered under his breath.

In our first-round basketball match, we were up against Class 3.

Every single one of them was from the volleyball team.

And every single one of them was over 180 cm tall.

Their tallest player, wearing jersey number 4, was supposedly the same
height as Fujisaki Yusei—184 cm. Despite being on the volleyball team, he
was oddly tanned, earning him the nickname “Fugashi.” He stood out no
matter where he was in the school, so I at least recognized his face.

He was also infamous for always loudly telling dirty jokes, which, despite
his good looks, made him unpopular with the girls.

Apparently, back in May, he confessed to Kureha Yua and got rejected. He

liked to talk about it like some legendary near-success: “I was this close!
Just one more push!” But according to the rumors, he had simply been
persistently bothering her.

Yankee Inoue warned me.

“That guy said he’s not gonna hold back against Class 1. He said it like a
joke, but nah, he was serious. Watch yourself.”

At the referee’s signal, we lined up.

Facing them head-on like this, their height difference was painfully clear.
They were all at least a head—no, two heads—taller than me. Even
Akiyama, standing beside me, muttered, “My neck hurts just looking up at
them.”

We huddled up before the match.

“Man, this is bad. This is really bad.”

Murota looked pale. He was supposedly 180 cm himself, but standing next
to a lineup of real 180 cm-plus players had him visibly rattled.

Aside from Akiyama—who never showed what he was thinking—the rest

of the team didn’t look much better.

I patted Murota on the shoulder.

“They’re tall, which means they probably can’t see what’s happening down
low. Let’s shake things up and mess with them as much as we can.”
Hearing that from me, the only one with actual basketball experience,
seemed to ease some of the tension.

Of course, it was just a placebo effect.

If there was ever a sport that was brutally unfair, it was basketball.

Height was an overwhelming advantage, and unlike volleyball, basketball

had physical contact. Shorter players had to go head-to-head with taller
ones on the same court. Even combat sports had strict weight classes—but
basketball had no such thing. Those without the gift of height were
mercilessly put in their place.

Basketball was the only sport that so cruelly divided the stars from the
nobodies.

The first gym, where the match was held, was packed. At least three times
as many spectators as the baseball game. It was obvious why.

They were here for Fujisaki Yusei.

I kept hearing murmurs from the crowd:

“Wait, where’s Fujisaki?”

“He’s not here?”

Some even left when they overheard, “Yeah, his coach banned him from
playing.”
No one expected anything from us.

I couldn’t help but smile. The tension in my shoulders eased.

That’s right. No one had any expectations.

Which meant no pressure.

At 163 cm, one of the few perks I had was that I didn’t stand out. I was
invisible. A nobody.

Free to move however I wanted on the court.

If Usaba Amari were here, she’d probably say:

“Isn’t it great? No one’s watching you.”

But I still hadn’t seen her anywhere.

She hadn’t responded to the message I sent her this morning.

Even so, I believed she would come.

The whistle blew, starting the match.

Class 3 was clearly underestimating us.

At the center circle, during the tip-off—the crucial first play—Fugashi

barely even jumped.
Murota, who had been bracing for a massive leap, let out a startled, “Huh?”

The ball, barely nudged by Murota’s hand, rolled right toward me.

Might as well take advantage of it.

The next “Huh?” came from Fugashi.

He reached out his long arm to pick up the ball—only for me to snatch it
away from the side.

Player 5 from their team immediately moved in to block me, but I

sidestepped and spun past him. The path to the basket was clear.

Scoring the first point sent a wave of murmurs through the gym.

A small player landing a blow against giants.

“Nice one, Mogi-kun!”

Amid the noisy crowd, one voice stood out clearly.

I turned toward the stands behind Class 1’s bench, and there she was—
Kureha Yua, dressed in gym clothes, waving a towel at me like an angel.

It was so dazzling that I had to look away.

I wish I could be the kind of guy who could meet her gaze and confidently
pump a fist.
Then, in a low voice, I heard:

“So, you’re ‘Mobu-fuku,’ huh?”

Fugashi was glaring at me with dark eyes.

“Mobu-fuku.” The last time someone called me that was in elementary

school. Back then, I didn’t mind.

But this time, it pissed me off.

There was no familiarity in his tone—just arrogance.

“I’m up here, and you’re down there.”

That was the only message behind it.

“You talk to Yua-chan a lot, huh? Don’t get cocky, Fujisaki’s sidekick.”

His tanned face looked even darker—twisted with anger.

They wouldn’t be underestimating me anymore.

It looked like I needed to be ready for what was coming.

“Short guys have no choice but to run.”

That was something my coach used to tell me all the time during my mini-
basketball days.

And he was absolutely right. That’s why I trained harder than anyone,
running drills over and over. Back in elementary school, I was fast enough
to make the relay team. There’s a common saying that fast runners are
popular in grade school, but I was probably one of the rare exceptions.

“Stop that little guy!”

I heard Fugashi’s voice behind me as I dribbled past Class 3’s defense.

They were tall. Their jumping ability was insane. But in this moment, that
worked against them. I faked a shot with a light motion, and they all took
the bait, leaping for the block. The higher the jump, the more space opened
up beneath them. I slipped right through that gap and broke past them.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

At the same time, the whistle blew.

The first ten minutes of the game had ended.

The score was 20-18. We were barely in the lead. If we could hold onto this
slim advantage for the next ten minutes, it would be a massive upset.

As he wiped his sweat on the bench, Murota’s voice was full of excitement.

“This is legit skill, right?! Huh, Fuku?!”

“Yeah, it is.”

I responded while downing my water bottle until it was empty. My

breathing was already heavy. It was pathetic—I had only played for ten
minutes. But now that I thought about it, when was the last time I played for
this long? Even counting practice games, I couldn’t remember.

Akiyama handed me a fresh bottle.

“You good?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

I never knew what Akiyama was thinking, but he always noticed the
important things. He must have seen how exhausted I was. And he was
right. My thighs had been cramping for a while now. I couldn’t hide the
effects of my time away from the game.

Still, all I could do was keep running.

Just ten more minutes!

The referee returned to the court. The game was about to resume.

“Let’s do this!” Murota called out, and we stood up.

I glanced toward the stands and met Kureha’s eyes. She looked a little
worried but gave me a small smile. The cramps in my legs eased just a bit.

Then, I scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar figure.

Looking for those sky-blue headphones.

Not there.

Not anywhere.

She really wasn’t coming?

No. Believe. She’ll be here.

I know she will.

Standing across from us at the center line, Fugashi and the rest of Class 3
were all smirking confidently.

“What’s up with them? They’re losing, aren’t they?”

Murota frowned.

…I had a bad feeling about this.

The first possession of the second half went to Fugashi. But he didn’t attack
right away. He casually dribbled the ball, raising a finger as he spoke.

“Let’s take it slow—just one good shot first.”

They had changed their strategy.

In the first half, they had underestimated us, recklessly charging forward
and getting their plays cut off. But now, they had settled down. They were
shifting to a slow, calculated strategy—gradually tightening their grip
around us.

And it was devastating.

“Alright, here we go.”

“Yeah.”

Laughing carelessly, they started passing the ball in high arcs—way above
my head.

Player 5 caught the pass and moved toward the goal. Akiyama immediately
got in position to defend, but they simply lobbed another high pass over
him—straight to Fugashi, who was
Waiting near the basket.

“Boom!”

An easy shot.

The score was tied.

As Akiyama wiped his sweat, he muttered, “This is bad.”

“Yeah…”
They had decided to fully exploit their height advantage.

At first, they probably wanted to break through our defense with flashy
plays—because that would look cooler. The ball game tournament was a
major event. It was a chance to show off to the girls. Who wouldn’t want to
look good and make an impression?

But what if that meant losing?

If it came down to winning the normal way or losing while trying to look
cool—of course they’d choose to win.

By continuously passing the ball in slow, high arcs, they lowered our
chances of stealing it to almost zero. After all, they were over 180 cm—
active volleyball players. And we were just a bunch of kids from the go-
home club. There was no comparison in height or athletic ability.

Disappointed murmurs began spreading through the crowd.

“What the hell is this?”

“They’re letting those passes through way too easily.”

“Man, that guy’s tiny.”

“I heard he used to play basketball. That guy?”

◆
Still, we kept fighting.

That was the decision we made from the start.

I ran. I stuck to Fugashi like glue, pressing him as hard as I could to disrupt
his play. I lowered my stance, grinding my toes against the court. I kept my
hands up, my feet moving, doing everything I could to make it harder for
him to pass or shoot.

But I couldn’t reach.

“It’s pointless, shorty.”

He sneered as he tossed another pass right over my head.

The orange leather ball that I had touched every single day from fifth grade
to middle school felt like a stranger—flying far beyond my reach.

Another point.

Since the start of the second half, we hadn’t scored at all.

The scoreboard read 20-38—nearly double the gap.

Only two minutes left.

“Ugh…”

Murota groaned.
It was a sigh of defeat.

At first, he had tried to cut off their passes, but now he wasn’t even
bothering to reach for them anymore. What was the point? He knew he
couldn’t reach. No amount of effort or willpower could overcome the height
difference. Even a perfectionist wouldn’t waste energy on a battle they
couldn’t win.

So, who would willingly keep struggling?

“Damn it…”

Nothing was working.

Reality… it’s always like this.

The moment you try to take on something new, you hit a wall. Big or small,
those walls keep appearing, stopping you in your tracks.

Just when you think you’ve made some progress, something else comes
along to block your way.

And each time, it chips away at your confidence.

Like that amusement park.

Just when I thought I was getting closer to Kureha, everything got messed
up.
I was reminded of my place.

I understand now—why Usaba Amari felt like giving up.

That feeling of having hope dangled in front of you… only for it to be

crushed.

I understand it completely.

And in the end, your heart just breaks.

You give up.

You tell yourself, That’s enough. I’ve done all I can. I’m satisfied.

Because effort has no end.

Dreams have no finish line.

That “just a little more” never stops.

And if you keep chasing it forever—eventually, your heart will shatter.

That’s why, at some point, you have to decide.

Where to draw the line.

When to walk away.

For me, that moment was in the summer of my third year of middle school.

And yet—

“UOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!”

Someone was roaring.

Chasing after the ball with everything they had, reaching for places they
couldn’t reach, and roaring.

Who was it? It was loud.

Too desperate.

Just give up already. We’d put up a good fight. Everyone in the class would
praise us. “You did great,” “You really gave it your all.” They’d say things
like that, no doubt.

Besides, this was just a school ball game tournament. No matter how fired
up people got, it was still just a festival at the end of the day. A 10,000-yen
gift card? A classroom fan? If we really wanted one, we could just pool 100
yen each and buy a cheap one. That’s all this was—just something on that
level.

And yet—

“You think I’m giving up?!”

The roaring continued.

Still howling.

That voice—was mine.

At this point, it wasn’t even basketball anymore. It was just a desperate

game of tag. I was blindly chasing after whoever had the ball. It was worse
than elementary-level basketball.

The opposing team smirked, the audience sighed in disappointment.

In the middle of that awful atmosphere, I was still throwing myself after the
ball.

Then, I caught sight of the stands.

Kureha was crying.

Tears were streaming down her face.

“It’s enough.”

“You did your best.”

I could tell what she was saying just from the movement of her lips.

—That’s not right.

At that moment, something unfamiliar stirred inside me.

“I did my best?”

No. No, that’s not it.

The only one who gets to decide if I did my best—

Is me!

And then—

From behind Kureha, a fluffy pink blur suddenly burst into view.

Long bangs swayed wildly.

Breathing ragged, gasping for air.

Clearly out of shape, completely winded.

And yet, she looked straight ahead.

Her sweat-drenched face turned toward me—

And she screamed.

“Fukusuke-kuuuuun!!”

A voice so loud it echoed across the entire gym.

A voice so powerful it shook the windows.

A voice so impossibly big, you’d never believe it came from her.

From the quietest, most introverted girl in the class.

“If you’re small, then jump higher!!”

That voice pulled me into the air.

For the first time, my fingers brushed against one of those high passes that
had always been out of reach.

“Uraaaaaah!!”

I didn’t care if my nails tore off—I swung my arm with everything I had.

The ball changed course, tumbling past Fugashi and bouncing toward the
backcourt.

Their number 7 rushed to retrieve it.

But I was faster.

I grabbed the ball—only for number 7’s momentum to send his elbow
crashing into my face.

Screams erupted from the crowd.

A wave of gasps swept through the gym.

But I refused to let go.

I would not let go.

Dripping red stains onto the floor, I closed in on the basket.

Weaving through the towering defenders blocking my path.

Dribbling with precision, keeping control of the ball.

Scraping my soles against the court as I launched forward.

If you’re small, then jump higher.

I followed through.

I soared.

A deafening cheer roared around me, and then—

 Chapter 10

In the end, our last-minute comeback was just a drop in the ocean—we lost
in the first round.

When we lined up after the game, everyone on the team looked satisfied.
Murota kept laughing as he slapped my back over and over, and Akiyama
wiped his glasses with a look of accomplishment. It was a stark contrast to
the winning team, Class 3.

Fugashi and number 7 were arguing.

“You could’ve stopped him at the end.”

“Then why didn’t you do it?”

They shoved each other, forcing the referee to step in, and in the end, they
didn’t even bow properly before leaving.

Back at the bench, our Class 1 classmates welcomed us with applause.

“That was amazing, Mogi!”

“You jumped crazy high at the end!”

Everyone praised my performance, and with each comment, I felt more

embarrassed, wanting to crawl into a hole somewhere. Maybe I should start
wearing headphones too.
Fujisaki Yusei didn’t say anything. He just gave me a firm pat on
The shoulder, silently acknowledging my effort.

And then, Kureha—

“Mogi-kun, your nose! It’s bleeding!”

Her eyes were still red as she handed me a pack of tissues from her pocket.
The bleeding had mostly stopped, but I accepted it gratefully and stuffed
some tissue into my nostrils.

“Y-you were incredible, Mogi-kun. Seriously, that was amazing…”

Her voice was still a little nasally. Thinking back to the Ferris wheel
incident… maybe she was just a crybaby.

“By the way, where’s Usaba?”

When I asked, Kureha gave me a wry smile.

“She said it was too embarrassing, so she left. I tried to stop her, but…”

“…Haha.”

I was a little disappointed—but that was just like her.

She must have been completely caught up in the moment, too focused to
think about anything else. That’s probably why she was able to scream like
that. But afterward, she must have realized what she had done, blushed
bright red, and fled. I could picture it perfectly.
…Actually, now that I thought about it, I felt kind of embarrassed too.

Facing Usaba after this… was going to be a little awkward.

“Are you really okay, Mogi-kun? You still seem a little unsteady.”

“Ah, yeah.”

I answered, but honestly, my body was completely drained. It was an

exhaustion that felt good—proof that I had given it my all.

Class 1 finished in fourth place overall in the tournament.

Fujisaki’s soccer team placed first. Kureha’s dance team also won first
place. Those two teams took home trophies, but the rest of us lost in the
first round. In the end, we ranked fourth, and the 10,000-yen gift card
slipped through our fingers.

The next morning—Monday.

As I stared at the thermometer, my sister frowned.

“Oh no, 38 degrees?”

Sure enough, I had caught a cold.

It had been a while since I last had a fever. Maybe pushing myself too hard
in training had weakened my immune system.

But honestly… a part of me was relieved.

I was so sore that just getting out of bed felt like torture. Skipping school
today? That was a lifesaver.

“I’m working late tonight. Will you be okay for dinner?”

“Yeah, I’ll just heat up some frozen food or something.”

My sister looked like she was debating something, then suddenly snapped
her fingers with a “Pikkon!”—a dramatic, old-fashioned sound effect.

“I know! I’ll leave it to Fuku-chan!”

I had no idea what she was talking about, but she seemed satisfied with
herself.

When I woke up on the living room couch, the evening sun was streaming
through the curtains.

It was just past 5 p.m.

As soon as I sat up, a wave of dizziness hit me. I reached for the sports
drink on the table. It had gone warm, but it still tasted good. My fever
wasn’t gone yet.

I chugged down the entire 500ml bottle in seconds.

Then my stomach growled.

“…What should I eat…?”

I had told my sister I’d just eat frozen food, but the thought of it didn’t sit
right with me. My body wasn’t craving instant meals. I wanted something
simple, but freshly made.

The sweat-soaked shirt sticking to my skin felt gross. Just thinking about
throwing it in the

Laundry and hanging it up made me feel like my fever would spike again.

I decided I’d at least change my clothes—

Then the doorbell rang.

—Who the hell is it at this hour?

Stumbling toward the intercom, I pressed the monitor button—and was

shocked at what I saw.

A suspicious figure, completely wrapped in a white poncho, stood at the

door.

I glanced at the window. No rain.

They looked like they were about to walk into a meltdown-stricken nuclear
reactor, dressed in full protective gear.

From their silhouette, I could barely tell they were a girl.

No, wait—I recognized that poncho.

It was the same one from “Tama Park’s” water ride.

She actually took it home?!

In both hands, she carried shopping bags filled to the brim with groceries.

Green onions, komatsuna greens, bananas, a two-liter bottle of sports drink

—it was practically screaming, “I’ve come to take care of you!”

“Ah, um.”

The intercom crackled with a familiar, nervous voice.

“U-Usaba here! I’m Usaba Amari from Class 1, Student Number 5! I-Is
Mogi Fukusuke home?!”

“Uh… yeah, I’m home…”

I gave the dumbest possible reply.

I hurried to the front door and unlocked it.

There she stood, swaying slightly from side to side in an adorably awkward
manner.

“Usaba… what are you doing here?”

“A-ah, um… your sister called me. She said you were sick and asked if I
could check on you.”

I see.

So that “Pikkon!” moment was this.

After I collapsed, my sister had reached out to her…

“Sorry. My sister must’ve forced you into this.”

“N-no! I… I was worried, too.”

The way she fidgeted as she said that made me feel embarrassed.

“T-then, come in. It’s a bit messy, though.”

I took the grocery bags from her and let her inside.

“I forgot my shopping bag again.”

“You actually managed to ask for a plastic bag this time?”

“…Yeah…”
She nodded slightly, looking a little proud of herself.

Her smile was so pure, so genuine, that I couldn’t look away.

“Mogi-kun, your face is red. Do you still have a fever?”

“Huh?! I mean… yeah, probably.”

“A-ah, um… excuse me.”

She reached out and placed a hand on my forehead.

Her fingers were so cold that I nearly flinched.

I knew for a fact that Usaba normally wouldn’t be able to touch a guy so
casually.

Which meant… she must’ve been really worried about me.

“Sorry… My body temperature is low.”

“…No, it actually feels kinda nice.”

Her hand felt like a cooling pad—refreshing and cool to the touch.

A girl’s hand was soft, small, like a maple leaf.

Or was she just special?

“You still have a fever. I bought ingredients for a hot pot, so please eat well
and get your strength back. Do you have any rice cooked?”

“My sister made some this morning, but… wait, Usaba, you can cook?”

She nodded, looking a little shy.

“I had to cook a lot growing up, so… I can manage.”

She placed the grocery bags on the counter, pulling out komatsuna, tofu,
shimeji mushrooms, sliced pork belly—ingredients lined up neatly on the
counter. I wondered what kind of hot pot she was making. Whatever it was,
I was looking forward to it. I’d at least have to pay her back for the
ingredients later.

She tied on an apron with practiced ease and pulled her long bangs back
with a bunny-shaped hair clip.

For the first time in a while, the curtain hiding the princess was lifted.

“…Whoa…”

Round, gentle eyes. Soft and sweet, like honey.

Looking at them made me feel like I could get lost inside.

Even standing next to the school’s most beautiful girl, she wouldn’t look
out of place at all.
“U-um, please don’t stare too much…”

She averted her gaze, fidgeting and glancing around nervously. That
awkward, anxious movement—it was just so her.

If only I could convince her to keep her bangs up like this at school, maybe
she’d become more confident, more outgoing…

No.

There was no need to rush.

She could do it when she was ready.

And when that time came, I just had to be there to support her.

After changing into sweats, I lay down on the couch.

From here, I had a perfect view of the kitchen.

The gentle sway of her hair, the hem of her skirt moving as she worked—it
wasn’t just my fever making my heart race.

The rhythmic sound of chopping echoed through the room.

Ton, ton, ton.

With a sound like that, there was no way she was bad at cooking.

I never would have guessed Usaba had a hidden talent like this…

Maybe she was more domestic than I thought?

I liked to think I knew her better than anyone in our class, but there was still
so much about her I had yet to discover.

Before long, the bubbling of the hot pot reached my ears, along with the
rich aroma of broth filling the air.

Usaba turned from the kitchen.

“Um… is there anything you don’t eat?”

“I’ll eat anything!”

Right now, I felt like I could scarf down even bell peppers or bitter melon
without complaint.

What she had made was Jouya-nabe.

A dish said to be so good, you could eat it every night.

I had read about it once in a novel and had always wanted to try it. Never in
my wildest dreams did I imagine Usaba would be the one to make it for me.
On the white low table sat a steaming clay pot, with two rice bowls and
serving plates neatly arranged.

Inside the pot, komatsuna, shimeji, tofu, and pork belly simmered together.
The pale green of the vegetables, the gentle browns of the mushrooms, and
the soft pink of the meat all blended in a way that looked almost divine.

“Alright, let’s eat!”

I grabbed a slice of pork from my plate and took a bite.

“…Oh man, this is good.”

Of all the meats in the world, I believed pork belly was the best.

The fat melted in my mouth, blending perfectly with the tangy ponzu. The
taste was so rich, it made my jaw clench in delight. I needed rice.

Right on cue, a small hand held out a bowl piled high with rice.

“Um, is this enough?”

“Thanks!”

I devoured it, stuffing my empty stomach full of steaming white rice. Pure
happiness.

“Aaah, this is so good…”

“It really is.”

Her own bowl was also stacked high with rice. We both dug in, eating at the
same pace.

The pizza we had last time was good, but hot pot was on another level.

I had thought about saving some for my sister, but by the time we realized,
the whole thing was gone.

Feeling pleasantly full, I watched as Usaba peeled an apple.

She had carved it into little rabbit shapes—such an adorable touch.

“Seriously, you’re really good at cooking. I had no idea you had a skill like
this.”

Her face turned bright red, and she lowered her gaze.

“You’re exaggerating.”

The way her lips moved, I could read the words clearly—because this time,
her bangs weren’t in the way.

“A-anyway, how’s your body feeling? Do you still have a fever?”

“Oh, I’m fine now. The hot pot made me sweat a little, and my head feels
clearer.”

She sighed in relief.

“I was worried I made you push yourself too hard yesterday… I thought
maybe, because I was sulking, you forced yourself, and that’s why…”

“Not at all.”

I shook my head.

“Honestly, at that point, I was already close to giving up. The score gap was
huge, I couldn’t even get my hands on the ball… I just wanted to run away.
But when I heard your voice, something inside me moved. I don’t even
know why, but I found the courage to keep going.”

I scratched my head, grinning.

“Even though we lost in the end, huh?”

Her gaze shifted to a poster on my wall.

Spud Webb.

A basketball player I had admired since I was a kid.

More than ever, I respected him now.

“If you’re small, then jump higher.”

“Yeah.”

“I think… I really like that phrase now, too. I’m not sure what I should be
jumping toward yet, but…”
Her eyes were clear, like the sky after the rain.

“Then, I have a suggestion.”

“Y-yes?”

“Shouldn’t we start calling each other by our first names? I don’t really
have good memories of being called Mogi. People used to call me Yomogi
and stuff.”

She chuckled softly.

“I know the feeling. People always said I was too plain, that I had no
presence…”

I laughed too.

“We’re alike in so many ways, huh? Amari-chan.”

“…Yes. Fukusuke-kun!”

We looked at each other.

In her eyes, I saw my own reflection.

And in mine, I was sure she saw hers.

The face of a girl—too cute for words—whom only I got to see.

 Epilogue

The next day at school.

As soon as I stepped into the classroom, Kureha rushed over. Once again,
she had that Yuan~ kind of aura, her amaranth-colored hair flowing behind
her. They say Happy Turn snacks are coated with “happiness powder,” but I
was convinced that Kureha’s hair was covered in some kind of cuteness
powder.

“Mogi-kun! I’m so glad! Did your fever go away?”

“Y-yeah.”

Ah… she was dazzling as ever.

Even after just one day apart, her brightness was almost too much for my
eyes. I seriously needed someone to invent “Kureha Glasses” to protect my
vision.

It seemed I still had a long way to go before I could look at that smile
straight on without flinching.

“Fukusuke, you back to full health?”

This time, Fujisaki called out to me.

“A senior who watched our game told me to invite you to join the team. I
won’t force you, but why not come check it out sometime?”
“Ah… yeah. Maybe someday.”

I laughed awkwardly, dodging the question. Right now, I couldn’t even

imagine it. Would I ever step onto the court again?

“Oi, Fuku-cchi! You alive?”

Yankee Inoue ran up next.

“You took the day off yesterday, so I was worried, man! Must’ve been
‘cause of my ultra-fast pitches making your hands swell up, right?”

“Nah, I’m totally fine.”

“C’mon, at least pretend it was ‘cause of that!”

As Inoue teased me, Kureha giggled, and the sound of her laughter set off a
ripple effect—soon, everyone around us was chuckling too.

“Oiii, Fuku!”

And now, here came the all-4s perfectionist, Murota.

“I bet you got sick ‘cause of my super play dragging you along, huh?”

“Nope, totally fine.”

“Haha, Fuku’s way too humble! …By the way, are you free after school
today?”
Murota lowered his voice.

“I need another Fukusuke Pilgrimage. There’s this girl I really like. Please,
I’m begging you!”

“Of course, I’ll help.”

Right beside me, someone was moving at a slow, steady pace.

It was Akiyama, doing radio exercises.

He was completely unaffected by the morning classroom buzz, quietly and

diligently stretching. He looked like a disciplined monk, so much so that I
almost felt like bowing to him in admiration.

Gradually, I was finding more people in class to talk to.

Of course, I hadn’t completely broken out of my shell—there were still

plenty of classmates I had never spoken to. But at least I was starting to feel
like I could make it through the year.

Most importantly, I had friends.

And I had a strong-willed gārufurendo by my side.

She was, as usual, slumped over her desk, lost in her own world with her
sky-blue headphones.
But—

Every now and then, her gaze flicked toward me.

Subtly. Sneakily.

Making sure no one else noticed, I gave a small wave in her direction.

She flinched.

Then, she hesitantly lifted her head, glanced around the room, and
cautiously raised her hand—

“Mogi-kun!”

Kureha called my name again.

“Don’t just look away! Talk to me too~”

“Ah, y-yeah! W-what is it?”

“The ball game tournament! I still can’t get over it—I was so moved! I
think I’ve become your fan!”

“F-Fan?!”

The sheer impact of the word sent my heart racing, nearly making it
explode.
Not only that, but her eyes were all sparkly, and she was looking up at me
with that pleading gaze… this should be illegal.

“Ha, haha… really? I wasn’t that impressive.”

As I scratched my head in embarrassment, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

I had it on silent, but it buzzed once, then again. Stop. Buzz. Stop. Buzz.

Someone was absolutely spamming me on LINE.

—I had a hunch.

I cautiously glanced sideways toward Amari.

She was still slumped over her desk, her thumb tapping rapidly on her
phone screen.

A rhythm game?

…No way.

It was definitely her sending all those messages.

Was she… jealous?

Because I was all flustered talking to Kureha?

No way, right?
Just as that thought crossed my mind—

I witnessed something unbelievable.

Amari suddenly lifted her head, looked right at me—

And stuck out her tongue.

It was the weakest, most half-hearted “bleh” ever, completely drenched in

embarrassment.

It only lasted a moment.

Her face turned bright red, and she immediately ducked back down.

“…Ah…”

H-how was I supposed to react to that?!

Before I could figure it out, Kureha poked my side.

“…Geez. Why do you keep looking at Amari-chan?”

“I-I wasn’t—!”

“I want you to look at me properly too… okay? And—”

She tilted her head slightly, her voice softening into a whisper.
“…Can you start calling me Yua soon?”

“!?!”

Ah.

The cutest girl in class.

And right beside her—

The most adorable girl I had ever met.

Surrounded by these two incredible people—

A dilemma too luxurious for someone who was supposed to be just a
background character—

Somehow, that was now my reality.

Afterword

The goddess of the school.

The idol of the class.

The girl most wanted as a girlfriend.

I admired those distant, untouchable beauties—but at the same time, I

always felt like I couldn’t quite go along with that “normal flow.”

She shone too brightly, making it hard to feel at ease around her.

But when you step back from the center of the class, you start to see other
things.

Like the girl hidden in the shadow of that dazzling goddess—a girl just as
cute in her own way, someone whose presence made you feel at peace.

Chasing after love is wonderful.

Being pursued in love is fun too.

But this story is about two quiet people walking forward, hand in hand,
together.

I hope you enjoy it.

I want to extend my gratitude to Tan-tan, who provided the illustrations for

this work. It’s truly a dream come true to have an illustrator I admire so
much, one whose work even has its own dedicated folder on my PC, bring
this story to life.

And to my editor, Bee-san—I nearly gave up on completing this book, but

it made it to the world thanks to you. Thank you so much.

And with that, I’ll end things here.

Thank you for reading.

Yuji Yuji

Credits:

PDF & Epub: Japanese Mangas & Novels

Translation: Yuki Kitsuneko