Chapter XXXII - The Weight of Promises We Make

The gauze on my face had begun to loosen by mid-morning. The adhesive was weakening by an astonishing rate, even though it wasn't even humid outside today. Nevertheless, I tried adjusting it discreetly, so much so that my fingertips grazed the edges where Minazuki-san had so carefully applied it the previous evening.

Strange, how something so clinical could feel so intimate in retrospect.

Outside, rain tapped against the windows in an irregular rhythm, almost like nature couldn't decide whether to storm or retreat. Inside, Fujimiya-sensei's voice carried through the shuffling papers and half-suppressed yawns of homeroom; she was unusually animated today, easily blowing the rest of the faculty out on the park in terms of enthusiasm.

"I have wonderful news, everyone."

She held up an envelope, pale blue and slightly creased at the corners. The handwriting across its face was delicate but precise—the kind of penmanship that spoke of consideration rather than correspondence.

"I've received a letter from Sairenji-san's mother!"

The classroom atmosphere shifted instantly, like the sudden pressure change before a thunderstorm.

Whispers erupted, heads turned, and a dozen unasked questions hung in the air. Sairenji Satsuki had been absent for nearly six weeks now—hospitalized with what rumors variously described as everything from pneumonia to a rare blood disorder. The truth, whatever it was, had been concealed behind the vague phrase "health concerns" that appeared in her absence notes.

Fujimiya-sensei waited for the whispers to subside before continuing.

"Sairenji-san has been making excellent progress in her recovery. The doctors are very pleased with her improvement, and her mother just notified us that she's well enough to receive visitors."

More murmurs, louder this time. Inoue, seated beside me, let out a small gasp of delight.

"Even better, the Fukou Hospital has agreed to allow our class to visit during today's extended lunch period. Sairenji-san is very much looking forward to seeing everyone," Fujimiya-sensei beamed.

Chairs scraped against floors as students leaned across desks to discuss this unexpected development. Of course, questions flew like confetti:

"Is she coming back to school?"

"What was wrong with her?"

"Can we bring gifts?"

I remained still amid the commotion as my thoughts moved inward.

Sairenji Satsuki—our diligent female class representative, top student, and the steady counterbalance to my increasingly erratic performance—had been a constant in my life since first year. Her absence had left a void that extended beyond mere administrative duties. She was calm where I was frantic, organized where I was chaotic, and genuinely good at a job I merely performed.

And now she was returning—or at least, we were going to her.

"We should organize something!" Inoue declared while spinning her head towards me. "We could make a little celebration for her, maybe bring some balloons and flowers..."

Fujimiya-sensei was already on top of that, of course.

"That's a wonderful idea, but please keep in mind that Sairenji-san is still recovering. Nothing too exuberant."

Regardless of her words, Inoue was already scribbling in her notebook, a list forming beneath her rapid pen.

"We could make cards. And bring flowers—but nothing with a strong scent, those might trigger allergies in a hospital. Oh! And maybe some healthy snacks?" Before I could respond, she'd turned to Miyazono, seated on her other side. "Miyazono, you're good at calligraphy, right? Could you make a banner?"

And just like that, Operation Cheer Up Sairenji was underway, with Inoue Yui as its self-appointed general.

Within minutes, she had delegated tasks to half the class: Nakamura would handle flower arrangements, Watanabe would design a card for everyone to sign, Kurihara would organize a small gift collection.

"Kagami-kun," she said, finally turning back to me, "could you coordinate everything? You know Sairenji-san, she's your partner, you know?"

One of my fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of my gauze.

Did I... know Sairenji the best?

Perhaps once, but recent days had left me feeling like a stranger even to myself.

The events of yesterday—the confrontation with Arisato, the fight with Minazuki-san, the reconciliation with Akise, that moment on the rooftop—had shifted something fundamental in me, like tectonic plates rearranging the landscape of my identity.

Where did Sairenji fit in this new topography?

"Kagami-kun?"

"Ah, sorry. Yes, I'll help coordinate. Just let me know what you need." My brain ran on autopilot.

Clearly satisfied, she turned back to her growing list, leaving me to my thoughts once more. From the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of scarlet—Minazuki-san, detachedly watching the classroom's excitement. Unlike yesterday, her gaze didn't immediately turn away when I noticed it. Instead, our eyes met briefly across the rows of desks, and I thought I detected something like recognition in that icy blue.

Or perhaps I was merely seeing what I wanted to see.

The remainder of morning classes passed in a blur of anticipation and preparation. Thankfully, the teachers understood that Class 2-A wasn't really concerned about gerund phrases or polar equations.

During breaks, students huddled over Watanabe's oversized card, signing their names and adding brief messages of encouragement. Nakamura arrived with an armful of pale yellow flowers. Chrysanthemums, or whatever they were, they seemed appropriate, in a hospital sort of way. Not too loud, not too fragrant, not too alive.

"You're awfully quiet today," Akise observed during the brief interval between third and fourth periods. He'd approached my desk with his usual enthusiasm back again. "Tired from all the horizontal arguing yesterday?"

I blushed on command.

"That wasn't—we weren't—"

"Relax, Shou-chan! Your secret is safe with the Dark Crystal Seraph!" He winked dramatically, then lowered his voice. "Though I must say, your taste in women is either impeccable or suicidal. Possibly both."

"There's NOTHING between us. We just talked."

I lied. There was something at the very least.

Akise seemed to agree with my internal thoughts with a knowing smile.

"Of course. Just two classmates engaging in perfectly normal conversational activities. On the floor. In intimate proximity."

"Oh my g—aren't you supposed to be helping with the banner?"

"Already finished my part. Miyazono rejected my suggestion to add flaming phoenixes to the corners, sadly. No appreciation for artistic vision..."

He then studied my face more seriously.

"You seem conflicted about Sairenji's return."

It wasn't a question.

I sighed, running a hand through my brown hair.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Only to someone who knows you as well as I do. You know, it's possible to care about more than one person at a time, Shou-chan."

He was already so close to the mark, it was almost frightening.

"I don't even know what I'm supposed to feel right now, Akise. It hurts that... I can't even smile that she's recovered."

My admission surprised even me.

Akise's expression softened. Before he could respond, Inoue appeared with a stack of colored paper.

"Kagami-kun, could you help fold these into cranes? Watanabe says they'll look nice arranged around the card."

And so it went. By the time the lunch bell rang, our hasty celebration had taken shape: a large hand-painted card signed by every student in Class 2-A, a modest bouquet of chrysanthemums, a string of origami cranes that Kurihara insisted represented health and longevity, and a small basket of fruit contributed by various students. It wasn't elaborate, but everyone tried their best—which was what really counted.

As we prepared to leave for the hospital, I found myself automatically scanning the room for Minazuki-san. She stood near the door, separate from the excited clusters of students, her bag already slung over her shoulder. Unlike the rest of us, she carried nothing for Sairenji—no card, no gift, no offering of goodwill.

"Aren't you coming?" I asked, approaching her carefully, mindful of the curious glances our interaction might draw.

She regarded me with that familiar cold expression, though it seemed less impenetrable than before.

"Why would I visit a girl I've never spoken to?"

"Um... because she's your classmate? It's the right thing to do?"

"Since when do I do things because they're 'decent'?"

Despite everything, I found myself smiling at her defiance now.

"Fair point. But still... it might be nice. For her, I mean. She's been away so long, and—"

"And what would I even say to her? 'Hello, I'm the foreign delinquent who probably made your life harder while you were dying of whatever mysterious illness you have. Congrats on not being dead?'"

"...Maybe not quite like that."

Minazuki-san sighed, but she did something so unexpected right after.

She started, twirling a single lock of her long, scarlet red hair between her fingertips. It was such a subtle gesture that I might have missed it if I hadn't been studying her every move.

"I'm... not good with these things," she finally admitted, and I felt like I'd just been given a glimpse of a secret treasure. "I'd probably make things worse. For her."

She had no idea how deeply I understood that feeling.