8

While wishing to not go wrong again, at least…

I’ve never really personally drawn the line for when the end of winter arrives, and when it comes down to it, that’s proof that I’ve only ever vaguely grasped the change in temperature day-to-day. But still, mysteriously, I’m aware of the turning points—most likely because at every juncture, when the occasion arises, something is there.

So this day was probably the end of winter for me.

I’d spent the whole day before cooped up in my room, keeping in contact with Zaimokuza and constantly refreshing social media, meticulously making sure there was nothing wrong with the website. I’d had absolutely no mental rest all weekend.

Monday, after the weekend. The widely loathed Monday. Monday, when what had happened over the weekend would be reported.

When I went to school, the classroom was filled with that end-of-year feeling. The world was getting busy with graduation season, so everyone was chatting about their futures, their plans for spring break, or the end-of-term test. Alone at my seat, outside that kind of conversation, I quietly inclined my ears.

I was waiting for the after-school bell.

Through Haruno Yukinoshita, I had sprinkled the bait. The segment of parents who’d opposed the prom would be unable to overlook the information—the plan they thought they’d put the damper on was getting even wilder. On top of that, since they’d already established a point of contact to act as their intermediary, they would act quicker this time. Something would happen today, or the next.

And my prediction wasn’t far off.

The afternoon classes came to an end, and around the time everyone was beginning to relax, Miss Hiratsuka rushed over. She peeked through the door at the front of the classroom, and when her eyes met mine, she smiled tiredly. “Hikigaya. Do you have a minute? …You’re wanted in the teachers’ office,” she said in a lighthearted manner, bringing a little stir of murmurs from those still nearby. Everything was in my bag already, so I grabbed it and headed right out. Just as I was leaving the classroom, Miss Hiratsuka smiled wryly. “As for the reason…you seem like you know.”

“I can think of several, so I couldn’t say. I’ve been getting called to the teachers’ office over a bunch of little things, after all.”

“Indeed.” Miss Hiratsuka shrugged, a hint of loneliness in her crooked smile, and I feigned a similar expression as I turned away.

And then ahead of my gaze were my classmates, curious about the sight of Miss Hiratsuka and me together. Some of them seemed weirded out, while the usual suspects at the back of the class were reacting in their own ways.

Miura seemed utterly disinterested, spinning her hair around her finger with boredom, and Ebina was watching and nodding like, That tracks, while Tobe and the guys were muttering stuff like, “Dude, what did Hikitani do?” laughing and whispering together. Damn you, Tobe…

Hayama, however, in the center of the crowd, smiled as cold as a statue as he watched me. There was no way I could know what was in his heart, and I didn’t care to know, but I could detect some compassion there.

Then, when Yuigahama saw Miss Hiratsuka, she seemed to immediately figure out what was going on. She abandoned her things at her desk, just grabbing her nearby coat as she pattered quickly in my direction.

When we came out into the hallway, Yuigahama caught up to us. She probably meant to accompany me. But this was the one thing I couldn’t rely on her for. I’d been leaning on her for everything, up until this very moment. For the finishing touches, I wanted to take the denouncement on my own, at least.

“So is it just me who’s been personally requested?” I asked Miss Hiratsuka.

“That’s right… Well, I don’t know if it’s a personal request. I was told to call the one responsible.”

“Yeah. That’s my professional alias for dubious activity,” I replied carelessly, and Miss Hiratsuka sighed as if I were taking years off her life.

“That’s a great name for the number one most in-demand boy in the establishment.”

Yuigahama watched the exchange glumly, then hedged, “…I think I should go, too, though.”

“It’s okay—I’ll handle it,” I replied, and Yuigahama opened her mouth like she was going to say something. But right before she did, her breath caught quietly, and she swallowed her words, pulled her lips tight, and gave a little nod.

That strange gesture and pause bothered me, but when I gave her a questioning look, Miss Hiratsuka smacked my shoulder. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll be with you. Nothing funny will happen,” she reassured me. Yuigahama nodded, returning a faint smile.

“Then I’ll head over for a bit,” I said.

“Yeah… Let me know if there’s any news,” Yuigahama replied.

I raised a hand in lieu of a reply, and I walked off with Miss Hiratsuka.

Following a step behind my teacher, I watched her stride along in her white coat with her hands thrust in her pockets, as if I wanted to burn the sight into my eyes.

“Is this just like you planned it?” In the window-lined hallway, she moved her head slightly to ask my reflection in the glass.

“…More or less,” I answered. Frankly, it wasn’t like absolutely everything was going according to plan, but I’d managed to accomplish the bare minimum. For me, that was a fine success.

I could tell even with her back facing me that Miss Hiratsuka was smiling wryly. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. Do you think you have a chance?”

“I don’t need a chance. This is the only way.”

The continuous window glass was replaced by wall, and I couldn’t see Miss Hiratsuka’s expression. I could only hear a sound like a lamenting sigh. “…That’s not a bad answer. I like that sort of thing,” she said, and then she suddenly vanished. Even though I knew she’d just turned a corner to go down the stairs, I found myself hurrying and made a face at myself.

Eventually, like some kind of song, would I wind up searching for the sight of her over every little thing? Imagining it made my steps get heavier. As I slowly descended one step after another, the distance between Miss Hiratsuka and me widened. That was how my parting with her would go, too, in all likelihood.

Both of us remained silent. The only sound was our footsteps.

When we approached the landing, Miss Hiratsuka turned around halfway, white coat fluttering. “Do you have time soon, Hikigaya? It doesn’t have to be today—tomorrow or after that.”

I considered my plans a bit. My time today and tomorrow would probably be taken up by dealing with the aftermath, but I didn’t really have anything to do after that.

We probably wouldn’t be having any club activities, either. No matter how the prom turned out.

Those thoughts delayed my answer. Our footsteps filled the silence in the interim.

“…Well, I’m generally free,” I replied.

“I see. Then…,” Miss Hiratsuka said as she also slowly pondered things like me, pausing a moment. “…Then let’s go for ramen!” She turned to look at me, her long hair swaying as she cracked a powerful grin.

With a half smile of my own, I nodded back at her.

Eventually, we arrived at the reception room, and Miss Hiratsuka knocked. The answering voice was clear and familiar. It seemed the visitor was Yukinoshita’s mother after all.

When I entered the room after Miss Hiratsuka, the lady standing by the window turned around gracefully. In her lavender kimono modestly decorated with peach blossoms, she embodied the “beauty looking back” of classic art.

There was already coffee placed at the seat of honor. Mrs. Yukinoshita took a seat there and then, in a gentle voice, suggested I go ahead and take the spot opposite her. When I did so, Miss Hiratsuka sat down next to me.

“We met the other day as well, didn’t we?” Mrs. Yukinoshita smiled merrily.

I responded with an attempt at a smile, too. “Yes…it was good to meet you then.”

Her formal smile reminded me of Haruno, and frankly, I didn’t really like it. She must have taken my reaction as anxiety, as she brought a hand to her mouth, studying me like you would a small animal you found adorable.

“Well then, to begin again…may I ask about your business here today?” Miss Hiratsuka got the conversation started, and Mrs. Yukinoshita’s meek smile faded as she drew out her phone.

“Oh, yes. So then, if you’ll pardon my getting straight to it…is this something you thought up?” She set the phone on the low table, and displayed on the screen was the dummy prom website.

Assuming this was the do-or-die moment, I put on a flippant grin. You need a bold attitude for brinkmanship diplomacy. The only way to do it is to put them in crisis mode, make them believe an explosion is imminent to draw concessions out of them. “It’s an opinion of some students, I suppose. There’s a bracket saying they’d rather have a big, modern one, like people our age do,” I said, using a line I’d heard at some point with some irony, and Miss Hiratsuka’s elbow jabbed into my side.

Mrs. Yukinoshita watched me pleasantly. “I see…” She put a hand to her temple, narrowing her big eyes. I’d seen that gesture before, as well as that look like a great cat on the hunt.

I had a bad feeling about this, and sweat beaded on my scalp. I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve never been wrong when it comes to these sorts of premonitions.

Suddenly, Mrs. Yukinoshita’s lips split wide. “Setting up a fake isn’t a poor idea, but the flaws are somewhat apparent. And I do believe that even with additional options, you’re going to have trouble if the fundamental issue isn’t resolved. What are you thinking about that?”

Her gaze and her tone were icy now, and something cold shivered up my spine. The end had sounded like a question to me, but my head wasn’t working well enough to reach an answer.

Mrs. Yukinoshita had determined that my dummy prom plan was a fake. Had she heard something from Haruno beforehand? No, Haruno hadn’t given me any reason to believe she got along with her mother, so she wouldn’t go out of her way to tell her.

So she must have simply seen through my plans. And on top of that, her opening move was to point that out, to kill my start. She had made it clear that she was way beyond me.

I had no clue how to follow that, staring stunned at this woman.

She, however, was perfectly unruffled, touching her closed fan to her lips with a gleeful smile. She appeared excited to see my next move.

If she was going to act that way, then all I could do was smile awkwardly. My ideas about how I’d bring things up all flew out of my head. Since her first move had been to call this plan a fake, no matter how many words I used now, there was no point. Hayama and Haruno had both seen through the dummy prom at a glance. I’d already lost the moment I’d assumed it would work on Yukinoshita’s mother.

Realizing I was unable to reply, Miss Hiratsuka cut in without missing a beat. “We did anticipate the practical issue that some students may not comply with the request for self-restraint. There remains a risk that they could hold such an event regardless, outside our purview. So it may be wise to choose to ensure it’s under our management, to some degree. The student council has adjusted the plan so that it can satisfy everyone involved.” Miss Hiratsuka offered the documents she’d set out on the side table to Mrs. Yukinoshita, and to me as well. Flipping through them, I saw that the revised content Yukinoshita and Isshiki had been discussing the other day was reflected there. Mrs. Yukinoshita surveyed the documents as well, but she didn’t react much. Her expression was somewhat dour.

While Miss Hiratsuka had given me the support I’d expected, the dummy prom was originally supposed to have been there as a manifestation of that risk. Now that it had been completely exposed as a fake, what Miss Hiratsuka said was far from convincing. I was really sensing that our attempts to sway the other party were a step behind.

Mrs. Yukinoshita just tilted her head in an Oh dear sort of gesture. “Yes…while I do believe you’ve lined up the elements to convince them, I couldn’t say if this would gain their understanding… Some of them are so stubborn, you see,” she said with a forced smile. I’d heard that somewhere before, though worded differently. “Even if I were to bring it up now, I’m not sure it would be enough to change their opinions.”

Ignoring the ongoing discussion, I quietly closed my eyes and searched my memories. Haruno Yukinoshita had been the one to say that. And she’d told me her mother didn’t care about the prom itself.

So then why had Mrs. Yukinoshita been sent here to discuss this?

It was simple. Because it had become a problem.

Yukinoshita’s mother was here as one tool, a means to resolve that. The purpose of her presence was nothing other than resolving an issue, striking off a dispute, and her own thoughts and principles had nothing to do with her actions. It was her nature to avoid being seen as a problem or causing a fuss, and she was acting in accordance with that.

That was exactly why I’d devised the dummy prom, with the intention of leading her to the more appropriate event. My idea wasn’t wrong.

But I’d drawn the line in the wrong place. A method is a method and a tool is a tool, and there is no concept of enemy or allies in those.

Mrs. Yukinoshita was nothing more than the messenger in this, the negotiator operating under the will of another party. My opponent in this game was not her. She was ultimately a piece on the board—the strongest one, the queen.

So then I still had one move left to make.

Just about the worst and most despicable move—I’m the only one in the world who could use it, and I wouldn’t be forgiven for using it even once.

But if that was my only card, then I had no choice but to play it.

“…Couldn’t I gain your cooperation in order to convince them?” I asked.

Mrs. Yukinoshita cocked her head, surprised I would say something. The innocent gesture belied her age, making me smile. The way she reacted when she heard something unexpected truly resembled her.

“We have everything we need to win them over, don’t we?” I continued. “So then couldn’t the results change, depending on who says them?”

What matters is not what’s said, but who says them is an expression that’s been used to death, but it’s the truth. If it was Yukinoshita’s mother instead of me, she would be sure to argue down those stubborn parents. They’d sought her support in the first place because they understood she was of higher status.

When you get right down to it, this game was really just about who stole the queen.

“…The fact is that I have no connections. I wouldn’t be very convincing.” With a dry smile and a pathetic reply, I put an unknown black king into check.

“That’s not true at all. I think you’ve put in a fair effort, in such a short amount of time. Enough that it made me curious who had done it,” Mrs. Yukinoshita said, smiling as if she was sincerely impressed before tilting her head questioningly. “…I’m sorry, that reminds me, could I ask your name?” she said, lowering her eyebrows apologetically.

Miss Hiratsuka instantly grabbed my sleeve to tell me no. She would understand quite well what it would mean for me to give my name here.

But my purpose as a stratagem in the game had ended the moment she had said those words. Now, there was only to fulfill my role as a pawn.

This piece normally had no use at all—you could even call it a deadbeat good-for-nothing that didn’t belong anywhere.

But under the right conditions, it could even take down a queen.

“I’m Hachiman Hikigaya.” When I said my name, Miss Hiratsuka released my cuff with a little resigned sigh.

“Hikigaya…,” Mrs. Yukinoshita repeated in a quiet, hesitant voice as she put a hand to her mouth, letting her gaze wander downward. Eventually, it must have come to her, as she suddenly raised her head with a sharp inhalation. “Oh… You’re…”

I returned her gaze with a formal smile. I’m sure I wasn’t pulling it off as well as Hayama or Haruno, but I put in as much effort as I could. Maybe it paid off, as I saw out of the corner of my eye that Miss Hiratsuka was stunned.

The problem was what came next. Now that I’d introduced myself, there could be no defects in my statements or attitude. If I seemed overbearing or arrogant—or self-abasing—she would take it as a threat. And once she did, the next time would become my fault and give her an opening to take advantage of me. So I had to show her by acting with honesty and sincerity that I had no such intention.

“I must have caused you a lot of trouble before. I left everything to my parents, so I wasn’t able to pay my respects to you. I’m very sorry.” The words were as flat as possible. My bow was at an angle not too deep, not too shallow. I focused entirely on acting only as a pawn that would fulfill the function required of me. I inserted no unnecessary feelings there.

It was a type of protocol, the etiquette of diplomacy. A hint of excessive theatricality was just perfect.

The message in that pose must have reached her accurately, as she responded in kind. “Oh, no, I should be the one apologizing for my daughter causing such trouble. How was that injury to your leg? It must have caused you quite a lot of inconveniences—I must sincerely apologize.” She bowed her head deeply, and I replied with an appropriate level of spirit.

“Thankfully, it’s fully healed; it’s even stronger than before. You’ll be able to see me dance at the prom.” I moved that leg on the spot, tap-tap-tapping my shoe in a nonsense step. Mrs. Yukinoshita put a hand to her mouth in a silent Oh my and laughed pleasantly.

“Manners!” Miss Hiratsuka smacked my thigh, enabling me to finally end my clowning. Filled with self-loathing at my own buffoonery, I desperately choked back the sigh that threatened to escape me.

A smile remained on Mrs. Yukinoshita’s lips as she narrowed her eyes. “…What nerve, indeed,” she murmured softly. There was a coldness to her gaze that seemed to be evaluating me, and it felt like it was slowly freezing me over. Her eyes seemed to see through anything—enough to make me feel a little sick.

But then her gaze suddenly eased. Mrs. Yukinoshita spread her fan to hide her mouth, then giggled and smiled behind it. She seemed so innocent, it just about deluded me into thinking this was her true nature. “Not bad.”

“I’m obliged.” I pretended to sweep my bangs back so that I could keep calm, wiping the sweat off my forehead. My dress shirt was sticking to my skin. My throat was so dry, just breathing hurt.

To anyone watching, I’d just introduced myself and talked about events of the past. There was no inherent meaning in my name, or in that conversation.

So whoever heard it just had to read their own meaning into it.

Yukinoshita’s mother continued giggling for a bit, but once she’d snapped her fan shut, it quieted down. “Yes…I will give a try to discussing this with the parents and guardians. If I could have you in attendance as well, Miss Hiratsuka, that would also help quite a bit.”

“If you could offer me some possible dates, I’ll fit it into my schedule.”

As the adults’ conversation continued in a businesslike manner, I zoned out. The thread of my tension snapped, and the exhaustion hit me like a wave. I found myself staring up at the ceiling, sighing deeply as I spaced out.

“Hikigaya. Can I get you to handle something?”

When a voice suddenly addressed me, I panicked and sat up straight. “Oh, right.”

It seemed that the conversation had made quite a lot of progress while I’d been ignoring it. Miss Hiratsuka tapped the stack of documents against the table, getting ready to withdraw. On the opposite side of the table, Mrs. Yukinoshita was also preparing to leave.

“I have to go out after this,” said Miss Hiratsuka. “Will you tell Yukinoshita that we’re moving forward with the prom, based on the revised plan? I’ll leave it to you how to tell her.”

“Uh-huh… Um, I understand…,” I said, still not grasping how things had gotten to this stage, while Miss Hiratsuka nodded. Her eyes were telling me to hurry off. Well, she was right. We didn’t have any time to spare before the prom. If it had been settled, then the message should be sent right away.

“All right, then.” When I stood up, Mrs. Yukinoshita smiled.

“Let’s meet again, Hikigaya.”

“Ha-ha-ha… Then pardon me.” Avoiding answering yes or no with a dry smile, I bowed and left the reception room.

I never want to see her again, if I can manage it…

Quietly walking through the school building as twilight approached, I eventually reached the student council room.

Standing in front of the door, I knocked. In the brief time until a response came, I breathed a deep sigh.

Eventually, after no footsteps at all, the door opened with a quiet creak. The heat had to be on pretty high; I felt the hot air from the slight crack. A girl with glasses and braids held the knob. I seemed to recall she was their clerk. She seemed to know who I was and let me in, though she was a bit timid about it. “Come in…”

I gave her a casual bow of thanks and went inside to see the vice president at a desk right ahead crying, “There’s no time…no time…” as he worked.

Good, good. Excellent. Suffer more.

I scanned the whole room, but Yukinoshita was nowhere to be seen. There was just Isshiki at the desk at the back, crunching on snacks as she stared at me vacantly, tilting her head. “…I didn’t call you here.”

I’m not allowed to come if I’m not called? That’s no good.

I was opening my mouth to start by telling her the purpose of my visit when Isshiki clapped her hands. “Oh, is it to help? You’re applying for slavery? Unpaid labor?”

What’s with that logic? Just how far are you gonna jump with this conversation? I was a little exhausted by the familiar antics of old Irohasu, and my shoulders slumped. “Look forward to next year. I’ll introduce a promising rookie to you.” I responded to her usual nonsense with the first thing that came to mind, and then I asked, “Anyway, where’s Yukinoshita?”

Isshiki tilted her head like Huh? before glancing over to the simple desk Yukinoshita must have been using. “Huhhh, now that you mention it, she’s not here. Hmmgh.” Isshiki had only just noticed, so Yukinoshita hadn’t been gone long.

Okay, so did she run off because the heat was on too high again? Whatever the case, if Yukinoshita wasn’t around, then there was no point in my being there. “All right, then never mind. See you.”

“Ah, hey! What?! Didn’t you come for a reason?!” Isshiki called me to a stop when I tried to stride on out again.

Hearing the word reason, I suddenly realized. Miss Hiratsuka hadn’t specifically told me to, but it would probably be best to tell Isshiki. I stopped and turned back to her. “Oh yeah. The prom’s officially on, with your plan. You can make it happen. Good luck.”

“Uh-huh… Huh?” Isshiki’s jaw dropped, and she tilted her whole upper body along with her head. It would be too much trouble to explain what had happened if she pressed me for details, so I would slip out before she had time to collect her thoughts.

I hadn’t even decided where I would go, but my feet never hesitated, taking me there automatically. I was sure she had to be there.

The empty halls of the special-use building. Nearly a year had passed since I’d begun walking through here to go to the clubroom. I could probably even get there with my eyes closed.

Eventually, I saw the door ahead of me. I came to stand in front of it, and I ran my hand over the handle before gripping it. Though it had to be made with the same material as any classroom door, I felt like I would never forget this cool temperature or hardness.

With a bit of a pull, it rattled in its track and moved smoothly.

Before my eyes was a completely ordinary classroom, nothing unusual about it.

But this room had a very different quality to it because of the presence of one girl.

In the slanting sun, with a breeze blowing, Yukino Yukinoshita stood by the window, looking outside. She must have been airing out the room that nobody had used in a while, as the window was wide-open and the curtains were fluttering. The sight was so picturesque, I wondered if even after the world ended, she would still be here, just like this.

My body and spirit came to a stop.

—I was entranced.

Noticing the presence of a visitor, Yukinoshita held her hair in place against the wind as she turned around. Her eyes widened a moment in surprise, but her expression quickly turned to a smile. “Hello.”

“…Uh-huh,” I answered, and she closed the window. When the fluttering curtains wafted down, the sound disappeared from the room. All that filled this tranquil space was the vivid red of the twilight.

Squinting against its brightness, Yukinoshita turned away from the window, sweeping her glossy black hair back over her shoulders. “Did you have some business here?”

“Oh, just a message for you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry you had to come all the way up here. I took up your time.”

“You don’t have to worry about it. It didn’t take long,” I replied as I pulled out the chair closest to the entrance. Sitting down in my usual spot, I casually gestured for Yukinoshita to sit as well. She seemed momentarily confused, but when I waited, she eventually sighed in resignation and went to sit in the chair closest to the window.

“About the prom—ultimately, your revised plan went through,” I told her. “She’s going to explain to the parents who opposed it to win them over.”

Though this would be Yukinoshita’s first time hearing this, she didn’t appear surprised, not so much as twitching an eyebrow as she quietly listened. Despite my misgivings about that, I added at the end, “So, well…this is my loss.”

“No.” Eventually, Yukinoshita sighed deeply and muttered, “It’s your win.”

“…Why?”

“Well, the whole affair wound up like this because I took advantage of your tactics. Functionally speaking, this is your victory.”

There was something that bothered me about the way she was smiling in that self-deprecating way, and I decided not to keep my doubts inside. “…But you still anticipated this. Didn’t you have a vague idea of what I’d do, at least? Meaning you won after all.”

When Hayato Hayama and Haruno Yukinoshita found out about the dummy prom, they’d both instantly seen through it. Yukinoshita’s mother had just about gotten me in checkmate. So then it was no surprise for Yukino Yukinoshita, who was on a similar level, to see through Hachiman Hikigaya’s shallow wit.

In fact, the way Yukinoshita and Isshiki had been putting forth ideas had already been sort of like presenting a false premise. Their strategy, presenting two options and shooting each other down in an attempt to derive the correct answer, had actually helped clue me in to the idea. The groundwork had already existed there for her to come to the same conclusion I did.

Yukinoshita lowered her eyes and shook her head at my question. “That’s not a certainty. As long as we assumed that the prom itself was being opposed, then that logic wouldn’t be valid… But I had a feeling you would still find a way.”

Since she wasn’t denying the fact that she’d seen through my idea, I was forced to admit she was impressive as always. But there was a shadow in her smile at the end. I wanted to deny that, so I gave her a smirk and a little joke. “That’s a lot of trust… Pretty surprising,” I teased.

“I was surprised, too. I have no idea why the thought came so easily.” Yukinoshita smiled wryly in return, if a little bashfully. It was a glimpse of regular teen girlishness, and my breath caught a bit. As I groped for a reply, she murmured in a fragile voice, “I was…dependent enough on you to think that.”

A plaintive regret was clear in her eyes as she gazed at me. I couldn’t stand it, and I looked away. “…Even if that were true, that doesn’t change the fact of your victory. Your winning condition was to actualize the prom with both our methods, right? So then what happened was your plan, your idea.”

“…You’re all right with my being…the winner?” she asked weakly.

I wanted to end this conversation, so I turned away, nodding.

“Well then…our competition is over now. So will you do what I say?” She struck back, and I couldn’t ignore those words. When my gaze snapped over to her, she clenched her fists tight, abandoning her earlier fragility and pressing her lips together. Her eyes, waiting for my answer, wavered with urgent determination.

“…No, that’s not happening,” I said. “It’s true that this one is your win. But it’s not like that means you’re the overall winner. What’s the total score?”

“If we’re talking about the conditions for victory, I do recall you said…if I win this competition, then I win, and you would do what I say.”

Seeing her explain that so dispassionately, I was aware my lips were dry. A memory passed through deep in my mind, telling me I’d heard that line before. Even while I was internally panicking, I wasn’t going to give up. “…That’s just about the wording. I mean, a different perspective.”

Yukinoshita let out a shaky sigh, and then in an intimate tone, sweetly entreating, she murmured, “Then…you decide.”

Before that fragile, transparent smile, I realized my own loss. She fully understood how I would answer if she said that to me.

Since I had made up my mind to respect Yukino Yukinoshita’s decision and guarantee her independence, I wouldn’t be okay with her ceding the decision to anyone else—even myself.

This was why she’d accepted this competition. For the sake of this one moment and this one answer, she’d deliberately abandoned and ignored all misunderstandings, conflicts, and disagreements.

She was going to bring this competition, this relationship, to an end.

“I can’t decide that…,” I said. “This isn’t just for us to decide. Yuigahama is a part of the competition, too. Besides, Miss Hiratsuka is a biased judge. And besides, there’s like, I mean…”

But I couldn’t accept that way of concluding it. I flung out every idea I could. I couldn’t let it end like this. Wait, wait, I was thinking, reaching my arm out into empty air. I didn’t know how to stop her, forgetting even to inhale.

But when I trailed off, Yukinoshita smiled sadly. Her eyes were watery. “…I’ll be honest. It’s been fun. It was the first time that spending time with someone else could seem comfortable and fun to me…”

Her tears were so close to the surface that if she told me she was honestly happy, then I couldn’t deny it or tell her to stop. When I weakly lowered my arm, Yukinoshita nodded gratefully, then said what she wanted to say

“I’ve never…quarreled or fought like that…or cried in front of others that way before. And when we went out together, I was so nervous. I’d never done this before; it was nothing but unknowns… I never knew it was all right to rely on someone. So somewhere along the line, I went wrong…” Her voice was trembling as she said it all, unprompted.

I looked up at the ceiling. The sunset in the distance stung my eyes, but I couldn’t close them. I just exhaled humid air.

“This relationship is false. It’s wrong. I’m sure it’s not what you wished for.” When she tied her monologue together like that, I knew The End had already been typed out for us, and I finally focused on her face. “I’ll be okay. It’s…all right now. You saved me.”

Wiping away a shining droplet with her finger, Yukino Yukinoshita smiled beautifully. “So now…let’s put an end to this competition…and this relationship.”

If that was her answer, then there was no reason for me to say no.

My goal of saving her had been accomplished, and with this relationship brought to a close, the codependency was resolved, and I’d kept my pride as a man. That service-mindedness or whatever, I’d never had it to begin with. The club, and my work, was over.

So now there was nothing. All my reasons to be involved with her were gone.

“Okay… Then I lose.” I sighed out everything, and then, so as to fulfill the last responsibility remaining to me, I asked her, “I’ll do what you say. What should I do? …I’ll make anything happen that I can.”

The truth was, I’d sworn that no matter what happened, that was the one thing I would grant.

Yukinoshita let out a sigh that sounded relieved, then told me the words I’m sure she had been affectionately, carefully keeping warm inside her. “Grant Yuigahama’s request.”

“Can I take that as your request?”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes, nodding as if she were watching someone go to their demise.

With the gentlest smile I could, I answered, “…Okay.”

Ending our final exchange, I stood from my chair. Yukinoshita didn’t move from her place. My footsteps were opening up the distance between us until eventually I reached the hallway.

And then, quietly and gently, as if catching it in my arms, I closed the door.