"Politics"

It turned out that besides flirting with me in public, Watanabe had also given Sakura a specific list of things to say about me that included the following:

1. Cheats on girlfriend with assigned tutor.

2. Constantly lies to girlfriend and others.

3. Extorts girlfriend for free food and forced her to skip school.

4. Is physically abusive to girls (shoved one into the toilet).

5. (To girls): Exclusively reads ecchi harem manga and light novels.

6. (To boys): Rejected a girl then changed his mind once he got into high school.

The list didn’t end there—it extended all the way to about 15 different factoids, and aside from the blatantly untrue cheating one (plus the fact that Mari was referred to as my ‘girlfriend’) they were all things that actually happened… just taken out of context.

As to when Sakura was given this information, she simply replied after school on Friday.

“One thing’s for sure. Yousuke-kun is really good at coming up with oddly specific rumours…” Sakura mused.

“...Indeed.”

“Well, rest assured, I haven’t told anyone anything from the list yet… not that I was intending to.”

And, uh… do you want me to do anything about your situation with the guys? Sakura further asked.

After explaining to her that it’d only make the situation worse and that I could handle it, I left the function room and started strolling around the library. It wasn’t part of some master plan to not be seen with Sakura at the start of the meeting, even if I could rationalise it as such in hindsight—I just wanted to be alone.

I walked around and around in a crappy mood.

What got to me wasn’t the content of the rumours, but the fact that someone close to me must’ve supplied it to Watanabe. Someone as close as a childhood friend.

Disgusting.

Climbing up stairs, going down stairs, picking up books, putting down books, breaking an established pattern, breaking the rule of three, listing an ungodly amount of items in a single sentence, walking around in circles… I did almost everything someone delirious would do.

In the end, I settled down in a corner of the library on the first floor and took out my phone for thumb exercise.

Maybe expulsion wasn’t all that bad after all.

They say you never truly know a person, but this isn’t true because people are immeasurably deep or anything like that. It’s because our personalities are constantly evolving—unless you’re with them every waking hour, like conjoined twins, there will be parts of them that have changed since you’ve last met them.

That’s why I had to ask myself a bunch of questions.

Who was Tsujimoto Mari at the moment?

What was her objective?

Did I need to find out, like Watanabe—or would it be better to pretend like I didn’t know?

Questions of that sort.

……

Ultimately, they all led to one conclusion. And as much as I didn’t like admitting it, perhaps it was better if—

“Oh, it’s you.”

My thoughts were interrupted by a cold, emotionless voice.

I turned to face it—and was greeted by a familiar sight.

Beige blazer, red ribbon, obsidian waist-length hair, porcelain-smooth skin, a nondescript expression more steely than even the iciest of Ice Queen caricatures, and a nonfiction paperback with a suspiciously long English title held against her side.

My tutor.

Yukimura Kiku.

It wasn’t a surprise someone like her would wear their school uniform on a weekend.

“...I feel like I’ve heard that exact line from you before,” I said.

“Now, now, Kouhai-kun. Even if this story contains thriller elements, adding a time loop wouldn’t help to accentuate them—so please don’t do that. As a writer, I can assure you of that.”

“......”

She took a seat next to me.

Right after breaking the 4th wall, as usual.

“You look depressed,” she said.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Well, at the risk of explaining actions in dialogue (as if that’s a bad thing in a first person POV)... you’re balled up in a corner, sitting on the floor, and scrolling through an empty notification list. If that isn’t a textbook cry for attention, I don’t know what is.”

“Ah, parentheses in dialogue again.”

And thanks for telling everyone I was on the floor. I’d been doing such a good job leaving that out of the narration…

Not only that, the people who’d imagined I was at a table are probably confused now and feel obliged to re-read. Talk about an inconvenient personality.

“How interesting,” Yukimura commented. “It can’t be the Special Project that’s making you feel this way, so why are you so upset?”

“...Why couldn’t it be that?”

“I-it should be a walk in the park for someone like you, that’s all.”

Her tone was missing its usual bite—like she’d been declawed.

And her comment wasn’t an insult… Well, whatever.

“I’m just not sure if there’s any point to this. Even if I proceed according to plan, I’ll just end up broke with a roommate who hates me and a childhood friend who’s not who I thought she was. Maybe it would be better if I got expelled.”

“...No, don’t do that. It’s never good to quit halfway.”

“‘Quit’? I’m not quitting anything.”

Yukimura’s legs were balled up against her chest, just like me.

It felt like a completely unnatural pose for her.

Too vulnerable—even if I’d seen her in ways that I can’t elaborate on.

“There was a reason you wanted so desperately to get into this school, wasn’t there? Purposely leaving now would be losing sight of that goal,” she said.

...Yeah, there was.

But that goal had revolved around living a normal high school life while staying close to the only friend I’d ever had.

The school couldn’t give me the former, and the latter felt like she was losing herself to this disgusting STD System.

So.

“Not really. That initial sentiment is nothing more than a pipe dream at this point.”

She smiled in response to my statement.

Yukimura and smiling never go hand-in-hand… so naturally, I looked away from her.

It felt too awkward.

Then, I heard her set her paperback on the floor… and then a gentle scratching noise, and then a soothing feeling enveloped the top of my head, and then I heard her say—

“There must’ve been something else you grew to love along the way… definitely.”

I stayed silent.

“Light novels are serials… that means when I write a volume for Our First Meeting, I can’t take it back. Even if it creates a gaping plot hole, or my characters seem half-baked, or it’s obvious that I’ve lost my way and I’m making things up as I go… I can’t quit. It would be betraying the trust and support my readers have given me… That’s why you shouldn’t quit, Kouhai-kun.”

“...But there’s no supporter like that for me.”

“There is. She’s stroking your hair right now.”

“She just wants me around to feed the kitty.”

“Or maybe she just can’t be honest with herself.”

“......”

“Look at me.”

Grabbing the sides of my face, Yukimura turned me to face her.

Eyes darker than night, features sharper than love’s arrow.

She was indescribably beautiful.

“I’ve told you why I write. Now come up with your own reason.”

“‘Write’...?”

Before I could decipher her sentence’s hidden meaning, something unthinkable happened.

It made me feel like I could stand on mountains.

It made me feel like… that was it.

This is it.

I will never forget this moment.

Everyone has instances in their lives where they think that to themselves.

How soft she feels, the feeling of floatiness, the overwhelming heat—everyone thinks they’ll remember it with absolute clarity.

You inevitably forget, however, because every passing moment steadily accumulates, building up over time, merging into the vast undefined nothingness that is the past.

The only thing that is left behind is the faint remnants of emotions you once felt, or a memory of the scene you were once living in—but you can only ever explain using words. Once it’s passed, no amount of remembrance will let you turn back the clock.

You will never feel the same thing again.

Which was why… I swore to never let that moment die out like the rest.

“...Phew,” she sighed. “Let’s never kiss in public again.”

“......”

“I hope you’re feeling better… stay in this school for me, okay?”

I didn’t quite hear what she said, but I nodded because I recognised the intonation meant she was probably looking for a response.

“I’m sure it won’t be a problem for you,” she smiled again.

Standing up and dusting off her skirt, the ever-enigmatic Yukimura Kiku proceeded to walk away from me.

“Wh… what? You’re leaving?”

“I have somewhere else to be, Kohei-kun. And I’m sure you do too—otherwise you wouldn’t be in this library.”

“......”

“Ah, slip of the tongue. I meant Kouhai-kun."

"......"

"See you next Wednesday."

She left as abruptly as she appeared.

For a good amount of time, I must’ve sat there dumbly touching my lips over and over.

Sure, it wasn’t the first time we’d kissed, just like how our ‘first meeting’ was chronologically the second… but it felt much more genuine.

Like I was on the precipice of something great.

And that I needed to see it through to the end.

“...Thank you, Yukimura-senpai.”

Sadly, that plot thread had to be put on the backburner.

As much as I’d liked to run after Yukimura, life isn’t structured as nicely as the plot of a book—after a big development, you’re not actually allotted time for respite or reflection—and similarly, you can’t just handwave away pre-existing issues with the 'power of love'.

You actually have to go and solve them.

Which was probably why Sakura Emi (with her uncanny ESP ability that every girl in Kitazawa seemed to possess) called my phone at the exact moment the Ice Queen disappeared from sight.

I picked up my phone begrudgingly.

“...Er, hello.”

“Mizuhara-kun? Where are you? The meeting’s already gone on for 45 minutes, though I would be hard-pressed to call it a meeting at this point… Um, that aside, are you coming or not?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Hmm,” Sakura pondered. “You sound different. Less edgy, and much more normal… Did something good happen on your so-called stroll?”

“...I’ll be at Function Room 1 shortly.”

“Hey, that’s not—”

I hung up on Sakura and made my way to the ‘class meeting’.