The Truth in Silence

It’s evening now.

I’m cooking dinner when my sister comes home a little late.

“Welcome home,” I say.

“Busy with the council as usual?” I ask.

“Yeah!” she replies immediately.
“Listen to this, So-chan! One of the guys working with us ditched his responsibilities, so I had Aya catch him and drag him back!”

…She really did become scary once she turned into a general, huh?

“So, what are you going to do for the cultural festival?” she continues.
“I was surprised too when they said we could go all out. I mean, we’re still middle schoolers. ‘All out’ sounds a bit much.”
She laughs softly.

“We’re planning a café,” I tell her.
“A lot of the boys wanted MOE culture—maid café or cosplay café.”
“It’s interesting, sure, but I don’t think we can handle that.”

“Hooooh?” Nee-san grins.
“So you want to see cosplayers now?”
“I might’ve found something interesting about my little brother.”

She laughs.

…She’s really getting on my nerves.

I finish serving dinner.

She eats happily, munching on the food like she always does.

At times like this, she feels completely different from how she is at school.

Just my sister.

But something keeps bothering me.

Mizuno Sumire.

She still hasn’t come back to school.

…What really happened?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day arrives.

The classroom is already a mess—everyone talking over each other, scrambling to do whatever they were assigned.

I’m stuck with finances.

This is going to be rough.

Koharu stands behind me, just nodding along. I’m not sure she understands what I’m doing, but she looks like she’s trying. I decide that’s enough.

“Kurokawa-san,” I call out to our class representative. “If we try to get everything we planned, we’ll end up in the red.”

She turns immediately.

“I’ve already tried cutting down where I could,” I add, keeping my voice low. “But if this keeps up, we’ll still overspend. We might need to outsource some things. Or ask for help.”

“Oh? Really?”
She tilts her head, one hand resting against her chin.

She’s actually thinking about it.

“I’ll ask Ishida-kun if he can gather more funds,” she says after a moment.

“Okay. Just let me know.”

Behind me, Koharu hasn’t moved. She’s still hovering—too close, like she doesn’t know where else to stand.

“You look cool, Shinso-kun!” she says suddenly, eyes wide.
“I don’t really understand the numbers, but you look cool doing it.”

I don’t respond. I just nod and go back to the spreadsheet.

Something feels off.

I scan the room again.

There’s an empty seat.
No one seems to notice it.

Mizuno Sumire.

I try to remember when I last heard her voice in class. I can’t.

What happened?

The classroom door opens.

Our homeroom teacher steps in.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, clapping his hands once. “I have something to share.”

The room quiets.

“Mizuno Sumire-chan won’t be attending class for a while due to complications involving her mother.”
He pauses.
“I hope you’ll be considerate.”

He turns to Kurokawa and hands her a stack of papers.

“Please give these to Mizuno-chan. If possible, I’d like some of you to visit her properly.”

“Yes, sir,” Kurokawa replies.

After he leaves, she turns back to the class.

“I think we should visit Mizuno-san,” she says. “Hisame-kun—does our schedule allow for that?”

I glance at the list in front of me.

“We’re not tight right now,” I say. “We can make time.”

“Then we’ll go later,” Kurokawa decides.

That settles it—for everyone else, at least.

I keep looking at the empty seat.

It feels like she’s been fighting something alone long before today.

Most of the people who come with us are girls.

Koharu walks beside me. Because of that, the silence doesn’t feel as sharp.

We only know one thing—that Mizuno-san’s mother is in the hospital.

Someone brings fruit. Someone else brings small gifts.
None of it comes from the cultural festival budget.

While we walk, Koharu glances at me.

“Shinso-kun… are you worried?”

“A little,” I say. “I just think we should check on her.”

She nods, like that’s enough.

When we arrive, Kurokawa-san stops us at the entrance.

“This is a hospital,” she says, her voice firm. “Let’s behave.”

No one argues.

We pass through reception and stop in front of an open room.

Mizuno Sumire is there.

She’s sitting upright, hands folded in her lap, eyes unfocused.

Something tightens in my chest—not sharply, just enough to notice.

She looks like someone who’s been holding herself together for too long.

The others rush in.

“Mizuno-chan, are you okay?”
“What happened?”
“Are you hurt?”

From what I piece together, her mother suffered an aneurysm while we were preparing for the cultural festival.

That explains her absence.

“If you ever feel alone, we’re here,” someone says.
“You can talk to me anytime,” another adds.
“If you’re not feeling well, you can reach out to me,” Koharu says softly.

Their words fill the room.

Too neatly.

I step back.

At the vending machine, I buy a canned coffee.
Mocha latte.

The machine drops it with a dull clunk.

I hesitate, then press the button again.
Black coffee.

When I return, the crowd has thinned. People are already talking about leaving.

I sit beside Mizuno-san and set the mocha latte on the small table between us.

She looks at it. Then at me.

“How did you know?” she asks quietly.

“I just noticed,” I say.

That’s all.

We sit there.

Not heavy. Not comforting. Just still.

She exhales, slow and uneven, like she’s been holding her breath all day.

“I don’t really know what’s happening,” she says.
“I don’t know what to do.”

Her voice wavers.

“I feel like I’m about to lose everything.”

“I don’t have anything reassuring to say,” I tell her. “And I don’t think promises help right now.”

She nods, eyes fixed on the floor.

“But,” I add after a moment, “you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. We can just sit here.”

Her shoulders shake.

She presses her hands to her face and starts crying—quietly at first, then harder.

I stay where I am.

After a few seconds, she leans closer—not into me, just enough that our shoulders touch.

I don’t move away.

I don’t pull her closer either.

“I feel so powerless,” she says, voice breaking.

“I know,” I answer.

The room stays quiet.

And for the first time since we arrived, no one tries to fill it.

I go straight home after that.

I still remember her tears.
They stay with me longer than I expect—uncomfortable, but real.

When I step inside, Nee-san is already there.

“So-chan! I brought takeout. Let’s eat!” she says, cheerful as always.

I eat quietly.

She notices.

“So-chan… what’s wrong?”

I shrug and ask her to clean up this time.

She doesn’t push.

I go to my room and lock the door.

The moment I sit down, my head starts to throb—an uneven pressure, like something pressing from the inside.

I keep thinking about Mizuno-san.

About how she looked before anyone noticed.

Why do I feel alone after that?

I was surrounded by people.
People who trust me.
People who rely on me.

And yet—

Something inside me feels dark. Untouched.

Even so… there was relief.

That part unsettles me the most.

I feel exhausted just remembering it.

It reminds me how easily someone can disappear.
How helpless it feels to watch and do nothing.

There was a time when I wished I could sell my soul—just to make the pain stop.

“I don’t want her to experience that,” I say out loud, to no one.

But there’s no guarantee I can prevent it.

I don’t feel warm.

I feel like I exist—
and at the same time, like I don’t.

I exhale slowly.

This isn’t something I should be remembering.

As I reach for my phone, a voice surfaces—clearer than I want it to be.

No one loves you because you’re a bad person.

Morning comes as usual.

School starts.

Everyone looks tired. No one really says it out loud, but it shows—slower movements, heavier sighs.

After visiting the hospital, people still came back to finish preparing the booth.

I find it strange that we’re still doing this.

“Hisame-kun.”

Kurokawa-san calls me over and hands me a small stack of papers.

“Could you bring these to Mizuno-san?” she says. “I saw you after we left yesterday. I think she’d be more comfortable if it came from you.”

She smiles—gentle, certain.

…She noticed that?

“That’s fine,” I say. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“No, you should do it, Shinso-kun!”

Koharu cuts in immediately.

“You’re annoying,” I tell her.

“I’ll come with you,” she says, like she’s already decided.

Classes continue as usual. Things feel almost normal.

Too normal.

My eyes drift to the side of the room.

Mizuno-san’s seat is still empty.

“You’re worried about her, right?” Koharu asks.

She doesn’t wait for my answer.

“I was with Kurokawa-san yesterday. We saw you sitting with her.”
She smiles, teasing. “She looked really comfortable. What did you do?”

“Nothing,” I say. “I just sat there.”

“That’s already a lot, you know,” she replies, still smiling.

I don’t answer.

At lunch, I tell Kurokawa-san I’ll check the finances again later, after I run an errand.

She nods without question.

Then voices ripple through the hallway.

“Isn’t that the student council president?”
“She’s so cool…”
“I want to be like her someday.”

I already know who it is.

Nee-san steps into view, scanning the room.

“Excuse me,” she says politely. “Is Hisame here?”

A few people turn to look at me.

“Hisame-kun, the student council president is looking for you,” someone calls out.

Whispers follow.

“So that’s him?”
“Isn’t he kind of weird?”
“Why would she—”

I stand up.

“Nee-san,” I say. “What is it?”

The murmuring dies down.

“Oh. They’re siblings,” someone mutters.

She smiles, unfazed.

“Come with me for a second,” she says.

We step into a quieter corner of the hallway.

“So-chan,” she begins, “I wanted to ask for your help. Could you stop by the student council room later? Or tomorrow.”

“With what?”

“Paperwork,” she says. “You’ve handled this kind of thing before. I want a second set of eyes.”

Then she adds, lowering her voice, “And honestly, I wanted people to stop making things up about you.”

She winks.

This sister…

“I’ll come by later,” I say. “I have something to do after school.”

“Thank you,” she says brightly. “You’re the best.”

When she leaves, the hallway noise returns.

I feel tired.

Last night’s words still echo in my head.

Am I pushing myself to be needed—

—or am I just doing what I don’t know how to stop doing?

We’re on the way to the hospital.

Koharu walks beside me, humming under her breath. I don’t recognize the song.

I send a message to Nee-san to just bring the documents home. I’ll check them later.

Sent.

I glance at the finances again while we walk.
Thanks to the solicitation some of our classmates did, we’re barely in the green.

For now.

“Hey, Shinso-kun.”

Koharu slows her pace slightly.

“Do you like Mizuno-chan?”

The question comes out of nowhere.

“…Why?”

“I like her,” Koharu says instead. “She’s one of the most genuine people I’ve met.”
She glances at me. “Aside from you.”

So that’s what she meant.

“I don’t hate her,” I say.

Koharu laughs softly. “You always answer like that.”

“I’m just being honest.”

She doesn’t push further, but she keeps smiling—like she’s noticed something I haven’t.

By the time we reach the hospital, the conversation fades.

Mizuno-san is sitting on one of the chairs along the hallway, hands folded neatly in her lap.

“Mizuno-chan!” Koharu calls.

I raise a finger. “We’re in a hospital.”

“Oh—sorry.” She immediately quiets down.

“Good afternoon, Mizuno-san,” I say.

“Good afternoon, Hisame-kun.”

She looks calmer than yesterday. Not relaxed—just steadier.

“How are things now?” Koharu asks. “Is your mom okay?”

“The doctor said she’s stabilizing,” Mizuno-san replies.

“That’s good to hear,” Koharu says, visibly relieved.

Mizuno-san hesitates, then looks down.

“How’s the class?” she asks. “Is the preparation going well?”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Koharu says quickly. “You don’t need to apologize. We’ve got it covered.”

While they talk, I stand up.

“I’ll get something to drink,” I say.

As I step away, I feel a light pull on my sleeve.

I stop.

Mizuno-san’s fingers are holding the edge of my uniform—just barely, like she realized too late that she reached out.

She freezes.

So do I.

“Oh—” She lets go immediately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine,” I say. “I was just heading to the vending machine.”

She nods, eyes dropping to her lap.

Behind us, Koharu lets out a small, unmistakable giggle.

I don’t look back.

At the vending machine, I take longer than I need to. I press the buttons slowly, listening to the hum of the machine.

I tell myself it’s better if Koharu stays with her.

She knows how to talk to people.
She knows how to respond without overthinking.

I still don’t understand why Koharu keeps saying I’m doing a lot for Mizuno-san.

All I did was sit beside her.

But somehow, that seems to have meant more than I intended.

I hand the coffee to Koharu and Mizuno-san, then take a step back.

I don’t join the conversation.
I just listen.

From what I gather, Mizuno-san’s relatives will take care of her mother for now.
Her mom will return to their hometown.
Mizuno-san will stay here to continue school.

She’ll receive an allowance.
She’ll live alone—for the time being.

The thought unsettles me.
A middle schooler shouldn’t have to shoulder that much.

They say it isn’t final.
There’s talk of her grandparents staying with her until she enters high school.

That’s what I catch between pauses.

Eventually, the conversation drifts back to the cultural festival.
Mizuno-san looks relieved—lighter than she has in days.
She even smiles when Koharu talks about how they’ll manage without her worrying.

That’s when I realize something.

I don’t belong in this moment anymore.

Koharu sits close to her, responding easily.
She fills the silences without forcing them.
She knows when to speak—and when not to.

“I’m going to head out,” I say.
“My sister still needs help with some work.”

“Oh—then let’s go together,” Koharu says immediately.

I shake my head.

“I think it’s better if you stay,” I reply.

She frowns. “Why?”

“Mizuno-san seems more at ease with you here,” I say.
“At least… stay with her for a bit.”

I stand before either of them can argue.

When I glance back, Mizuno-san looks away too quickly.
Koharu pouts, clearly unhappy with my answer.

I don’t know what I just interrupted.

Or what I chose not to face.

As I walk away, it feels obvious—almost convenient—that Koharu is better suited for this.
She understands people.
She knows how to stay without turning it into a problem.

She has room for closeness.

What about me?

I’m not built for moments that ask me to remain.

I tell myself this was the sensible choice.
That things will settle.
That this is for the best.

But the quiet follows me out of the hospital.

And for the first time, I wonder if I mistook restraint for kindness.

“I’m home.”

As I get closer to the living room, I hear the familiar tapping of keys.

“Nee-san, you’re already here,” I say.

“Ah! So-chan, you’re finally back!” she replies without looking up.
“Why didn’t you say ‘I’m home’ properly?”

“I did,” I say. “You were just busy.”

“Eh? I’m sure I didn’t hear anything,” she says, waving it off.
“Oh well. Come here—look at this.”

She hands me a stack of papers.

They’re heavier than I expect.

I skim through them.
Some numbers don’t line up.
Others feel inflated—rounded in places they shouldn’t be.

“Nee-san,” I say, “some of these costs seem off. A few can probably be adjusted, but others need clarification. You might want to check with your treasurer.”

She pauses, finally looking at the pages herself.

“Is that so…”
“I’m glad I brought them home, then. Thank you, So-chan.”

She smiles—but there’s something tired underneath it.

This doesn’t look simple.

I cook dinner and set the table. We eat without talking much.

While washing up, my thoughts drift back to the hospital.

Mizuno-san looked calmer.
At least on the surface.

She has a plan now.
People around her.

Koharu was there.

So there shouldn’t be anything left for me to do.

…Right?

The question comes too easily.

That’s what bothers me.

Tomorrow is the last day of preparation.
Kurokawa-san mentioned I’d probably be doing physical work since we’re short on time.

I don’t mind that.

I just hope things don’t fall apart before then.