The Boy Who Was Not Chosen PART-2

Ren was occasionally late. He had once arrived halfway through the second lesson carrying a convenience-store breakfast and an expression that suggested the entire world had personally inconvenienced him.
So when the first bell rang and his chair remained empty, I assumed he had overslept.
When the second bell rang, I assumed he was still on his way.
When the teacher entered the classroom, I expected the door to open at any moment.
It did not.
I glanced toward his desk.
The chair was pushed beneath the table.
His textbooks were not there.
Neither was his schoolbag.
That was unusual.
Ren was careless about many things, but he almost never forgot his schoolbag.
I checked my phone.
There were no messages.
I opened our chat.
The last message was from the previous evening.
Ren: Don't work too hard!
Me: Don't waste your money!
I stared at the conversation for a moment.
Then I locked my phone.
He probably had a cold.
That was all.
People got sick.
People missed school.
There was no reason to imagine anything else.
"Everyone, take out your textbooks."
The teacher began the lesson.
I opened mine.
But my attention kept drifting toward the empty seat.
---
During the lunch break, Ren still had not arrived.
I sat at my desk with my lunch in front of me.
The classroom was noisy, as usual.
Students talked about homework, games, weekend plans, and an upcoming test. Someone complained that the cafeteria had run out of their favorite meal.
Ordinary conversations.
Ordinary problems.
I looked at Ren's empty seat again.
"Maybe he really is sick," I muttered.
A student nearby heard me.
"Who?"
"Ren."
"Oh, Takahashi?"
"Yeah."
"You haven't heard?"
I turned toward him.
"Heard what?"
The student's expression changed.
For a moment, he seemed unsure how to continue.
"...There was an accident."
The classroom noise did not disappear.
But somehow, it felt farther away.
"What kind of accident?"
"He was hit by a car yesterday evening."
I stared at him.
The words entered my ears.
I understood each word separately.
But together, they refused to make sense.
"...What?"
"He was crossing the road near the station, I think. I don't know all the details."
I waited for him to laugh.
He did not.
I waited for someone to say it was a joke.
No one did.
"Is he in the hospital?"
The student looked down.
"I heard he didn't make it."
The world became quiet.
Not truly quiet.
The classroom was still full of voices.
Someone was opening a drink.
A chair scraped against the floor.
The teacher in the next classroom was speaking loudly.
But all of those sounds seemed to move away from me.
He didn't make it.
I stared at Ren's desk.
The chair was still there.
The desk was still there.
Everything was exactly where it had been yesterday.
That was impossible.
People did not disappear from a classroom and leave everything else untouched.
"Who told you that?" I asked.
"A friend from his neighborhood."
"Are you sure?"
"I... I think so."
"You think so?"
My voice sounded strange.
Too sharp.
The student looked uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry, Nakamura. I thought you knew."
I did not answer.
I took out my phone again.
My fingers felt cold.
I opened Ren's chat.
I typed:
Are you okay?
I stared at the message.
Then I deleted it.
I typed again.
Where are you?
I deleted that too.
Finally, I sent:
Ren?
The message appeared beneath our last conversation.
Delivered.
No reply.
I watched the screen.
One minute passed.
Then another.
I told myself he was sleeping.
I told myself his phone was turned off.
I told myself there had been some kind of misunderstanding.
I told myself many things.
None of them answered.
---
The teacher announced that the afternoon classes would continue as usual.
As usual.
That phrase felt almost insulting.
How could anything continue as usual?
Ren was supposed to be sitting behind me, tapping my head with a pen.
He was supposed to complain about mathematics.
He was supposed to ask whether I had finished my homework.
He was supposed to send me another pointless message after school.
He was supposed to exist tomorrow.
I stared at the empty seat.
The sunlight from the window fell across its surface.
I remembered Ren placing a piece of fried chicken into my lunch box.
Eat.
I remembered him standing outside the station.
Don't work too hard!
I remembered his voice.
His laugh.
His ridiculous arguments.
His irritating kindness.
I lowered my head.
The textbook in front of me became blurry.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
The words remained impossible to read.
I pressed my fingers against my eyes and waited for the feeling to pass.
It did not.
For the first time in years, I wanted to leave the classroom without caring who noticed.
But I stayed in my seat.
I did not know where else to go.
---
After school, I walked to the station alone.
The route was familiar.
The same streets.
The same buildings.
The same traffic lights.
The same vending machine beneath the faded advertisement.
Everything looked exactly as it had the day before.
That was the cruelest part.
The world had not changed.
Only one person was missing.
I stopped near the convenience store where Ren had bought me the rice ball.
The automatic doors opened and closed.
People entered.
People left.
A group of students laughed near the drinks section.
I stood outside, staring through the glass.
Then I entered.
I walked to the food shelves and looked at the rice balls.
There were several varieties.
Salmon.
Tuna mayonnaise.
Pickled plum.
I remembered Ren buying two without asking me.
I reached for one.
Then stopped.
I put my hand down.
The thought of eating it made my chest hurt.
I left the store without buying anything.
Outside, the evening sky was beginning to darken.
My phone remained silent.
I checked it again anyway.
No messages.
No missed calls.
Nothing.
I stood beneath the station lights and looked at the crowd moving around me.
Everyone was going somewhere.
Everyone had someone to meet.
Everyone's life seemed to continue.
I lowered my phone.
"...You said you would tell me if something happened."
The words disappeared into the noise of the city.
There was no answer.
For the first time since my grandfather died, I felt the familiar emptiness return.
But this time, it was different.
My grandfather had been the person who raised me.
Ren had been the person who reminded me that I was still part of the world.
And now both were gone.
I looked up at the evening sky.
The clouds were slowly covering the last light.
"...You idiot, Ren."
My voice trembled.
"I told you not to waste your money."
I swallowed.
"So why did you waste your life?"
The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them.
I lowered my head.
And for the first time in a very long while, I cried in a place where strangers could see me.Weeks passed after Ren's funeral.The days continued moving, even though I had stopped expecting anything from them.Morning came.Classes ended.The sun rose and disappeared.People laughed in the hallways, complained about homework, made plans for the weekend, and argued over things that would probably seem unimportant a year later.I watched all of it from a slight distance.Not because I hated anyone.I simply didn't know how to return to the place where everyone else seemed to live.My routine had become even simpler than before.School.Work.Home.Sleep.Repeat.Sometimes, I wondered if that was what adulthood would look like.Not that I expected to live long enough to find out."Hey, Nakamura."The voice came from behind me.I stopped writing.It was the middle of afternoon class, and our teacher had just begun explaining a difficult section of mathematics. I had been trying to copy the equations from the blackboard while fighting the heaviness in my eyes.I turned slightly.A girl was standing beside my desk.She sat two rows ahead of me, near the window.I knew her face, of course. We had been in the same class for months.But knowing someone's face and actually knowing them were two very different things.She held a notebook against her chest."You missed yesterday's lesson, didn't you?"I blinked."Yesterday?""You weren't here for the last part of class.""I was here.""You were physically here," she said. "But you were asleep with your eyes open."For a moment, I didn't know how to respond.Then she smiled.Not mockingly.Just slightly."I copied the notes. You can borrow them if you want."She placed the notebook on my desk.I looked down at it.The handwriting was neat and organized. Important formulas were underlined, and small explanations had been written beside the examples. It was far more readable than anything I had ever produced."You don't have to do that.""I know.""Then why?"She tilted her head."Because you looked like you needed them."That answer confused me more than anything else.People usually wanted something in return.Money.Favors.Attention.An apology.Even kindness often came with an invisible price.But she said it as though helping someone was no more complicated than lending an umbrella on a rainy day.I glanced at the notebook again."Are you sure?""Of course. Just don't spill anything on it.""I don't drink anything during class.""Good. Then we won't have a problem."She turned to leave, but stopped after taking one step."Oh, and the answer to the second problem is negative three."I looked at the blackboard.I had been staring at the same equation for nearly five minutes."...I got twelve."She covered her mouth, trying not to laugh."Then definitely borrow the notebook."I watched her return to her seat.For some reason, I kept looking at the back of her head until the teacher called my name."Nakamura. Since you seem so interested in the lesson, solve the next problem."The classroom grew quiet.I stood up, walked to the blackboard, and solved the equation.The answer was negative three.A few students chuckled.I returned to my seat without saying anything.When I sat down, the girl glanced back at me.She gave me a small thumbs-up.I looked away.I wasn't sure why.After class, I returned her notebook."Thank you.""You're welcome.""I copied the important parts.""Already?""I write quickly.""You write like someone who's afraid the paper will disappear."I looked at my handwriting.The words were cramped and uneven, squeezed into every available space."I don't like wasting paper."She stared at me for a moment.Then her expression softened."You really are strange, Nakamura.""I hear that often.""I didn't mean it as an insult.""I know."The silence between us wasn't uncomfortable.That surprised me.Most conversations exhausted me. I was always calculating what to say, how long to maintain eye contact, and when it would be acceptable to leave.But with her, the silence simply existed.She glanced toward the classroom door."Are you working again today?"I looked at her."How do you know?""You always leave immediately after school. And sometimes you smell like convenience-store food.""That's a very specific observation.""You also look tired.""I'm fine."She frowned slightly."You say that a lot.""Because it's usually true.""Usually?"I didn't answer.She seemed to realize she had asked something too personal."Sorry. You don't have to answer.""There's nothing to apologize for."She nodded, then smiled again."My name is Miyu Shirasaki, by the way."I stared at her.She raised an eyebrow."We've been classmates for almost a year.""I know your name.""Then why have you never called me by it?""I don't usually call people by their names.""That's a strange habit.""I hear that often, too."She laughed quietly.It was a small sound.Ordinary.Warm.I didn't understand why I noticed it."Miyu," I said, testing the name.Her smile widened."See? You can do it.""I suppose.""Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Nakamura.""Tomorrow."She left the classroom.I remained seated for a while, staring at the notebook in front of me.There was nothing special about what had happened.A classmate had lent me her notes.She had made a few jokes.She had asked whether I was tired.That was all.And yet, something about it stayed with me.That evening, after my shift at the convenience store, I returned home later than usual.The apartment was dark.I switched on the light, placed my bag beside the wall, and heated a cheap meal.The room filled with the faint smell of curry.I sat at the small table.Across from me was the empty chair.It had belonged to my grandfather.For years, I had spoken to it without thinking."I'm home.""Good morning.""I'm leaving."Lately, I had stopped.There was no reason to keep pretending someone was listening.I opened my schoolbag to take out my mathematics textbook.Miyu's notebook was still inside.I had forgotten to return it.For a moment, I considered taking it back to school the next morning.Then I noticed a small note attached to the final page.If you still don't understand the second problem, ask me.I stared at the words.No demand.No expectation.No hidden condition.Just an invitation.I closed the notebook carefully.At the time, I thought it was only a small act of kindness.I didn't know that small kindnesses could become dangerous.Not because they hurt.But because, once someone showed you warmth, you began to notice how cold your world had been.The next morning, I returned Miyu's notebook before the first bell.She was arranging her textbooks when I placed it on her desk."You forgot this," I said.She looked up."Oh, right. I was wondering where I left it.""You left it in my bag.""That sounds suspicious.""I didn't steal it.""I didn't say you did.""You implied it."Miyu smiled as she opened the notebook and checked the pages."Everything's still here.""I told you I wouldn't damage it.""I know. I was joking.""I see.""You're not very good at responding to jokes, are you?""I respond when necessary.""Is that your life philosophy?""Possibly."She laughed under her breath.I returned to my seat before the conversation could continue.But for the rest of the morning, I found myself glancing toward the window.Not constantly.Just occasionally.At least, that was what I told myself.During lunch, I sat alone as usual.I had bought the cheapest bread from the school store and was eating it while reviewing the work schedule on my phone.A message from my manager had arrived.Can you cover the evening shift today?I calculated the time in my head.If I accepted, I would finish after nine. I still had homework, laundry, and a report due at the end of the week.But refusing meant losing several hours of wages.I typed my reply.Yes. I can work."Are you eating that for lunch?"I looked up.Miyu stood beside my desk, holding her lunchbox."Yes.""That's not really a meal.""It contains calories.""That's not what I asked.""It's enough."She frowned at the bread in my hand.Then she sat in the empty chair beside my desk.I stared at her."Is there something you need?""No.""Then why are you sitting here?""Because there's an empty chair.""That doesn't explain anything.""Do I need a more complicated reason?"I didn't know how to answer.She opened her lunchbox. Inside were rice, grilled fish, vegetables, and a rolled omelet.The smell made me realize I was hungrier than I had thought.Miyu noticed my eyes move toward the lunchbox."You can have some.""No.""You haven't even heard what I was offering.""You were offering food.""Then you understood perfectly.""I'm fine.""You always say that.""And you always point it out.""Maybe because you always say it."She picked up a piece of omelet with her chopsticks and held it out toward me.I immediately leaned back."What are you doing?""Offering you food.""Why are you holding it like that?""Because if I put it on your desk, you might refuse.""I'm refusing now.""Then I'll eat it."She placed it in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.I looked away and took another bite of my bread.After a few seconds, she spoke again."You know, accepting something from someone doesn't make you weak.""I never said it did.""You don't have to say everything out loud."I stopped chewing.Her tone wasn't accusing.That made it harder to dismiss.I looked at her.She was still eating, her attention apparently focused on her lunch."People don't usually give things away for free," I said."Food isn't free. My parents bought it.""That's not what I meant.""I know."She paused.Then she rested her chopsticks against the edge of her lunchbox."Sometimes people help because they want to help."I said nothing."Sometimes they don't need a reason.""That sounds inefficient.""Not everything has to be efficient."I glanced down at my bread.For most of my life, efficiency had been the only thing I could depend on.Work had to be worth the money.Food had to be cheap.Time had to be used carefully.Sleep had to be sacrificed when necessary.Kindness, however, had never fit into any calculation I understood.Miyu closed her lunchbox."Anyway, you should eat something proper tonight.""I have dinner.""What?""Convenience-store curry.""That's not what I meant.""It has rice."She sighed."You're impossible.""I've been told that.""Do you have any other responses?""Probably."She shook her head, but she was smiling.Then the classroom door opened.A group of students entered, talking loudly about an upcoming school event.Among them was a boy I recognized.He was tall, well-groomed, and surrounded by people without appearing to make any effort. His grades were good, he played basketball, and teachers often praised him.His name was Kaito Moriyama.I had never spoken to him beyond the usual classroom greetings.Miyu noticed him immediately.Her expression changed.It was subtle.Her posture straightened, and her eyes followed him for half a second longer than necessary."Kaito," she called.The boy turned."Oh, Shirasaki.""Are you going to the committee meeting after school?""Yeah. I think so.""Can you bring the event forms? I need to check something.""Sure. I'll bring them.""Thanks.""No problem."He smiled at her before walking toward his seat.Miyu watched him go.Then she looked back at me."What?""Nothing.""You're staring.""I'm not.""You are.""I was looking in that direction.""Which is another way of saying you were staring."I returned my attention to my phone.Miyu tilted her head."Did you need something from me?""No.""Then why are you suddenly quiet?""I was already quiet.""That's true."She stood and picked up her lunchbox."I'll see you later, Nakamura.""Okay."She took a few steps toward her seat.Then she turned around."Oh, and don't forget to eat dinner.""I won't.""Something other than bread.""I'll consider it.""That means no.""It means I'll consider it."She gave me a doubtful look before returning to her seat.I watched her for a moment.Then I looked toward Kaito.He was talking with two classmates, laughing at something one of them had said.Miyu glanced in his direction again.This time, I noticed.I didn't know why she looked at him that way.And I didn't know why that small detail remained in my thoughts long after lunch ended.That evening, during my shift, I made a mistake while stocking drinks.I placed several bottles on the wrong shelf and had to rearrange them.My manager pointed it out."Akira, you seem distracted today.""Sorry. I'll fix it.""Are you tired?""Yes.""Then get some rest when you can.""I will."But even while I worked, my mind returned to the classroom.To Miyu's smile.To her voice.To the way she had looked at Kaito.I couldn't explain why any of those things mattered.She was simply a classmate.A kind classmate, perhaps.Someone who had lent me notes and shared her lunch.That was all.At least, that was what I told myself.When I finally returned home, I placed my bag beside the table and sat down.The apartment was silent.I stared at the empty chair across from me.Then, without thinking, I imagined Miyu sitting there, complaining about my dinner and telling me to eat something healthier.The thought was so vivid that I almost smiled.Almost.I immediately looked away."What am I doing?"The words disappeared into the empty room.I didn't have an answer.I only knew that, for the first time in a long while, someone's presence had followed me home.And I was beginning to fear how much I wanted it to stay.Over the following days, Miyu began appearing near my desk more often.Not every day.Just often enough for me to notice.Sometimes she asked whether I had finished an assignment. Sometimes she complained about the weather. Once, she borrowed an eraser and forgot to return it until the end of the week."You kept this for five days," I said, holding up the eraser.Miyu looked at it."Oh. I thought it was mine.""It has my name written on it."She examined the side."Ah. So it does.""How did you mistake it for yours?""Our erasers look similar.""Mine has my name on it.""You've mentioned that already."She took it from my hand and placed it on her desk."I'll return it tomorrow.""You're doing that on purpose now.""Maybe."Her smile made it difficult to tell whether she was joking.I had never been good at understanding people's intentions.But I was becoming familiar with hers.Miyu liked to talk.She liked asking questions.She liked filling silence before it became uncomfortable.And, for reasons I couldn't understand, she seemed to have decided that I was someone worth talking to.I didn't know how to respond to that.So I answered her questions when I could.And when I couldn't, I simply listened.That seemed to be enough.One afternoon, our homeroom teacher announced that the school festival preparations would begin the following week.Several students immediately started discussing committees and responsibilities.I kept my head down.School festivals required time.Time I didn't have."Nakamura," the teacher called.I looked up."You're assigned to the decoration committee."I stared at him."Why?""Because you have good attendance, reliable grades, and you haven't volunteered for anything else.""That doesn't seem like a sufficient reason.""It is in a school environment."A few students laughed.I sighed."When is the first meeting?""Tomorrow, after school."I calculated my work schedule.Tomorrow was already one of my longer shifts."I may not be able to attend."The teacher adjusted his glasses."Then inform the committee leader and arrange your responsibilities."That was easier said than done.After class, I waited until most students had left before approaching the committee board.A handwritten list had been posted near the door.Decoration committee leader: Miyu Shirasaki.I stared at the name.Of course."You're on the committee too?"Her voice came from behind me.I turned.Miyu was carrying a stack of colored paper and several folders."Apparently."She looked at the list."Oh, good. We're together.""That doesn't sound good.""Why not?"

"I'm not particularly useful with decorations."