Bonus Short Stories

Apostle of Solitude

“—Anxiety, soften. What’s wrong, Itou?”

Despite the fact that Akane’s tone of voice was kinder than usual, Itou Haruka could not bring herself to raise her head. The two of them had been sitting across from one another in a small, secluded conference room for over ten minutes now. Haruka already knew that Akane was busier than anyone else in the club when she’d asked to meet her, but now that they were face-to-face, her words were sticking in the back of her throat.

“Clear, concise,” Akane continued in her standard, matter-of-fact tone. “Even as a programmer, there will inevitably come a time when you must explain your ideas to others—for example, when discussing means of implementation. When that time comes, the most important thing is to explain yourself clearly and concisely... But I understand that you are uneasy. I don’t mind if your thoughts are fragmented. To start, try and put them into words.”

Don’t think about it too hard. Start by talking about what you can—about what you want to. Is that what she’s telling me? Haruka wondered. Akane’s statement nudged her forward enough to recall the long forgotten art of speaking, and her voice began to leak out. “............Is...”

“Yes?” Akane prompted.

“...Is it... okay for me to be here?” Haruka asked, finishing the thought.

“Surroundings, overlook. The only one who can determine where you ought to be is you.”

“That may be true, but...” This whole time.

This whole time, Haruka had thought that it was all her own fault: that Rondo was in the mess that it was; that she had stolen Shiraseki Kai’s place, when he was far more of an asset to the project. That all of it—all of it, all of it—had been due to the thoughtless actions of the single person known as Itou Haruka.

He hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet Shiraseki Kai’s name had been paraded around the internet as being that of the perpetrator, with baseless slander flying left and right. Even when she had tried to explain the truth online, she was completely ignored for being “obvious damage control.” At this rate, his sullied name would follow him for the rest of his life. When Haruka had finally come to understand the position that she had offloaded onto Shiraseki Kai, she hated herself, and could no longer forgive her own stupidity.

Akane set her sights on Haruka’s bag. “Is there a club withdrawal form in there?” she wanted to know.

“...Yes,” Haruka admitted.

“If that is what you desire, then I won’t stop you. I will accept your resignation,” Akane said, but stalled before offering her hand to Haruka. Akane’s voice rang out, as if she meant to block her open palm with her words, even as she continued to speak.

“There isn’t any use in crying over spilt milk,” she told Haruka. “The depths of despair are dark and fathomless; I have no idea how much you have tormented yourself with guilt. So, what I say next is not an order... but if you have the will to hold on, then wait. Wait for two more weeks.”

“...Two weeks?” Haruka echoed.

“That’s right.” Akane nodded quietly. “Once upon a time, there lived a king who believed that black cats were the messenger of the devil, and did not wish to allow a single one to live in his kingdom.”

“What?” Haruka asked.

“Black cats were slaughtered without exception,” Akane continued, pressing forward with her dizzyingly abrupt story. “That was the common sense of this world. The people all followed the king’s order to kill black cats, and they were proud to do it.

“However, a man appeared who questioned such actions. The man rose up to protect the black cats, and began to speak out against the practice all on his own. Others mocked him for his lunacy, but the man insisted upon his point with conviction. Although it took a long time, the man’s message slowly but surely began to reach the people’s ears. And black cats were once again safe to roam the lands, happily ever after.”

“...R-Right,” Haruka agreed uncertainly.

“Itou,” Akane asked, “ in this story, who do you think is a good person?”

“That would be... the man, wouldn’t it?”

“Of course. However, there is a second person who isn’t mentioned in the story.”

“Second person?”

“Within this world, the man’s ideas were abnormal,” Akane pointed out. “No normal person would have agreed with him. There isn’t so much as a single reason to have heard him out. However, at some point, a second person must have appeared to follow him... Do you think you could believe in a man who perpetually speaks against the common rhetoric? A man from whom everyone else averts their eyes?”

“...I think that would be quite a task,” Haruka admitted.

“I’m sure it would be. I, too, lack the confidence to say I would. That is why we should praise this second person’s courage just the same as we praise the man.”

Haruka was nearly swallowed whole by Akane’s unwavering gaze.

“Creation is always a lonely endeavor, not limited to game development. No matter how many people are placed together in a team, any serious attempt will always include time spent alone,” said Akane. “Even if you overcome that solitude, in the end, there is a moment where all you can do is believe that your message will reach someone.”

“...Um, President, I don’t... I’m sorry. What are you talking about?” asked Haruka, feeling bewildered.

“One day—no, in two weeks’ time, you’ll understand. I believe you’ll understand, because I have faith in the man in whom I believe. If you find yourself following the lonely light in which he preaches... when that time comes, do something,” Akane advised her. “Applaud, or anything. This time, find the courage to display your true will.”

After having said all that, Akane silently smiled.

Lonely Misako ~Bygone Youth Steeped in Specialty Tare Katsudon~

It was the night before Kai had to head to Tokyo and present his plan to Akane and company.

“Kai! Let’s go!” said Misako, practically kicking down the door to drag Kai out of the house before he could ask where it was they were going. There was a single minicar parked in front of his home, and his sister promptly pushed him into the passenger seat.

“Huh?” he said. “A car? Where are we going?”

“The hell?! Mister, ain’tcha got a battle ahead of ya’ t’morrow? There’s only one spot we can go!” Misako answered confidently, after locking his front door and returning to take the driver’s seat.

“I won’t ask why you’re speaking with an Edo accent, but—wait. Nee-san, can you drive?” Kai demanded to know. “You don’t have a license, do you?”

“Aha ha,” said Misako, smiling at him from the bottom of her heart. “I’m glad you asked! I went and got it a little while ago, just in case you ever begged me to take you out on a nighttime drive because you were having trouble sleeping!”

“So you’re a total beginner...” Kai observed. Also, he thought to himself, that day will never come.

“Don’t worry, young man. Even a ship made of mud will sail so long as you row.”

“Well my heart has already sunk...”

“Hard-a-port!” Misako sang out.

Kai no longer had the energy to point out that they were in a car, not a boat. Still, he found Misako’s driving to be far more competent than he’d expected as the car left his home and merged into a large road, before heading onto a bypass that appeared to have originally been a river. As soon as Kai began to expect that they’d continue along that road for a while longer, Misako pulled into a parking lot next to what seemed to be a set of private homes along the street. Beside them was another, shockingly large structure, whose sign Kai read to figure out it was a pachinko parlor.

“Over here,” Misako beckoned.

The building she waved him over to had “Tonkatsu Masa-chan” written on its sign, and Kai was fairly certain it was some kind of restaurant. The building’s architecture was a subdued Japanese style, and the interior was packed with customers, since it was dinnertime.

“Heya, boss!” Misako called out. As the siblings sat down at the counter, she raised her hand toward a man who met their eyes from the kitchen. He didn’t say anything back, but gestured towards them in a small greeting.

Misako continued, “I’ll have the usual. Give him the specialty!” to which the man gave another short, silent nod of acknowledgment.

“Nee-san,” said Kai, “do you come here often?”

“Yup.”

“Did you... bring me here for the good luck superstition?”

“Of course! Katsu means to win! Eat katsu and win, it’s plain and simple!” Misako cheered. Then, she suddenly straightened up and looked at him solemnly. “...Kai. At times, our battles are merciless,” she told him seriously. “No matter how much time you spend, how much thought you put into it, how guaranteed your victory is... there are times when you may offend the Goddess of Fortune. But don’t forget this, Kai: I’ll be here waiting. Whether you’re smiling or crying, I’ll be waiting for you to come home.”

“...It’s not that big of a deal,” he mumbled.

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror these past few days?”

“No... But I know what you mean.” Kai was aware that he looked awful. Nanaka had been terribly worried as well, and offered to accompany him to Tokyo nearly every time they met.

“Plus,” Misako added, “Kai, you haven’t eaten tare katsu yet, have you?”

“Tare katsu?” he echoed.

The mystery behind these unknown words was revealed to him as soon as their food was served. Kai’s dish was unmistakably a katsudon—it was a bowl of rice with tonkatsu on top—but otherwise, it was completely different from what he was familiar with. A katsudon was generally placed on top of an egg, but there wasn’t any egg at all in front of him. There weren’t any onions, either. There were just three cuts of katsu, fried to a golden brown and stacked on top of the rice. As the name implied, there was a tare sauce drizzled onto the katsu, which had also soaked into the rice underneath. Misako was silently egging him on, so he started off by taking a bite of the katsu.

“...Whoa,” said Kai. He wondered, What is this? Rather than being crispy, the tare had soaked into the cutlets and made them moist. Though the meat still had some chew to it, the quality of the pork was good enough for Kai’s teeth to slice through it without issue. Every single bite diffused the sweet taste of the soy-based tare sauce throughout his entire mouth. The juicy meat’s classic, savory flavor blended together with the sauce to give birth to a delicious flavor he had never before experienced.

Then Kai put the katsu aside and tried the tare-soaked rice to find out that it, too, was amazing. Incredibly amazing. It fell under the same principle as rice covered in yakiniku sauce: there was no way it wouldn’t be good.

The dish came with pickles on the side, perhaps because the tare itself was of a sweeter flavor. After eating a refreshing pickle, Kai’s mouth reset—no. In fact, the next bite of tare katsu he ate was even more tasty than the first bite he had taken. He simply couldn’t put down his food; it was the perfect infinite loop.

“Isn’t it good?” Misako asked.

“...It’s super good,’ Kai replied.

“Right?” Misako nodded triumphantly, as if she had made the dish herself. “By the way,” she added, “That specialty set is no longer something that I am allowed to eat... Keep that in mind as you enjoy it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll understand if you keep eating.”

Just as she’d said, Kai came to understand as he continued to eat. At first glance, his katsudon wasn’t all that different from the one his sister had ordered, so he was somewhat confused as to what made it a specialty item. The answer was at the bottom of the rice. Or rather, in the middle of the rice. As he ate the katsu on top and the rice underneath, Kai struck... katsu.

Kai literally dug up more katsu. The ‘specialty’ part of this tare katsudon was the fact that there was yet another layer of katsu buried inside the rice. What was more, the katsu was covered in sauce that had soaked through the rice and had a slightly different—but still delicious—taste to it, as compared to the others.

It was delicious... but Kai realized it was definitely too much for Misako, who had, just a while ago, drunkenly cried about how she was cutting back on oily foods. As a matter of fact, Kai wasn’t exactly a big eater himself, so he, too, struggled to finish.

But after eating this much, Kai knew it’d be enough. They say an army marches on its stomach, and now that he had eaten his fill, there was nothing to fear. He even received his share of good luck.

All that remained was to resolve himself and do what he needed to do.

When in Rome

“Senpai, Senpai!”

“...? What’s up?” he asked.

Aya was using one of the computers in the clubroom and had suddenly turned around, sporting a mischievous grin. Nanaka was sitting right in between her and Kai, so she looked up as well. Eru was holed up in her own world, as usual, and drawing with her headphones on.

“I’m gonna say a word. Can you guess what it means?” Aya asked.

“A word?” Kai seemed puzzled.

“Aight, here we go... Senpai, there’s a kōko in the fridge,” she said.

“...K-Kōko?” he repeated.

“Kōko,” Aya affirmed.

Kai looked at the monitor behind Aya, and he could read the large lettering that said “Niigata Dialect.” Apparently, kōko was some sort of word from that regional dialect. He figured she was curious as to whether or not a Tokyoite like Kai could understand it.

“Ah-chan, isn’t that one a bit hard?” Nanaka caught the gist of Aya’s plan and made a comment while waiting for Kai’s response.

A bit? Kai thought incredulously. This is super difficult right off the bat. I can’t think of anything. She probably said ‘fridge’ as a hint. At the very least, it has to be something that fits in a refrigerator. I’m pretty sure it’s safe to assume it’s some kind of food. So it’s some kind of food that goes in the fridge and is called a kōko... kōko... koko? Kokokoko... Cockadoodle doo?

“Ch...” Kai began.

“‘Ch?’” Aya goaded.

“...Chicken?”

“Just ‘cause Niigata is in the sticks doesn’t mean we’ve got slaughtered chickens chilling in our fridges,” Aya denied.

“...Pft. Chick—pfft, chicken...” Kai’s response seemed to strike a chord with Nanaka, who was now covering her mouth as she held back a laugh. “Your answer reminded me of when you heard what I thought KPI was, and... I guess there are things even you don’t know, huh Kai-kun?”

“Nana-sen, was your answer super ridiculous?” Aya questioned.

“Th-That’s a secret! I know what it means now!” Nanaka sidestepped the topic by turning to Kai and saying, “A kōko is just a takuan. We don’t use that word much, but I think my grandma still says it a lot.”

“...Takuan?” Kai echoed. “Like the pickled yellow radishes?”

“Yup, that’s right,” Nanaka replied.

“So why is it a kōko?” he asked.

“How would we know? It’s just the dialect,” Aya retorted.

“R-Right.” Kai supposed that maybe that was just how the dialect worked.

“By the way,” Aya resumed, “There’s more where that came from. Wanna bet one gacha pull that you’ll get it wrong?”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

“What?! Don’t be a killjoy! How about I’ll roll the gacha whether you win or lose?”

“Then you should just roll on your own...” Kai mumbled.

“You know how sometimes you can’t decide if you wanna roll or not?” Aya asked, by way of explanation.

“I think I’ll pass on being used to decide something like that.”

“Hey, hey!” Nanaka interjected, “If you’re gonna make bets on them, then future dialect quizzes are banned!” Then, she glanced up at the clock on the wall. She naturally followed up with, “Whoa, it’s already this late? Let’s hush up and head home for the day.”

Leaving aside Eru, who couldn’t hear anything, Aya acted completely normal, saying only, “Sounds good.” It seemed that Kai was the only one who found Nanaka’s word choice strange.

“Um... Nanaka-san?” he called out to her.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” she replied.

“...Uh, well, is there a particular reason we need to go home stealthily today?”

“Stealthily?” Nanaka tilted her head.

“What are you on about?” Aya was practically rolling her eyes as she asked.

“I mean, we need to ‘hush up’ as we go home, right...?”

“Huh? What I said was—wait... Kai-kun, could it be... do you know what ‘hush up’ means?” Nanaka asked.

“...To be quiet and sneaky?” he ventured.

Nanaka covered her face in shame as she realized what had happened.

“...Nana-sen,” Aya pointed out, “I can’t believe you gave Senpai a dialect quiz immediately after banning them. That’s unfair!”

“But Ah-chan, it’s not like you realized what I said, either!”

“That’s not true, though? Oh, Senpai,” Aya explained, “‘hush up’ basically means to clean up.”

I see, thought Kai. That made Nanaka’s previous statement fall into place. She’d looked at the clock and realized it was almost time to leave, so they all needed to hush up and go home. Clean up, of course. Now that Kai knew, it made complete sense.

“...Okay then,” the words flowed naturally from Kai’s mouth. “Nanaka-san, let’s hush up and go home.”

In response, Nanaka playfully cried, “Kai-kun’s bullying me!” and Eru (who happened to overhear her) erupted with a far less playful, “What the hell did you do to my dear Nanaka?!” all while Aya laughed the situation off with an, “Ah geez.” But of course, Kai hadn’t meant to bully her at all.

It was just because he was here, and had wanted to use the new phrase that he’d only managed to learn because he was with them. Amidst the chaos of the clubroom, he thought to himself...

I hope that, as we continue forward, you all will teach me even more words like these.

A Day in the Social Game Club ~The Swimsuit Debate~

Kai and Nanaka were running a little late because their homeroom had dragged on longer than usual. When they reached the clubroom, Aya and Eru were arguing with frightening menace.

“Like! I! Said!” Aya shouted. “This girl needs a bikini! Imagine, this meek girl musters up all her courage so she can enjoy the adventurous summer of a lifetime, but she doesn’t know how far she should take it, so she floors the gas so hard that she ends up buying a bikini that’s a touch risqué—that’s what’s cute!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Eru snapped back. “My dear girl wouldn’t be able to buy a bikini! She’d be far too embarrassed! But she definitely wouldn’t want to be caught wearing a school swimsuit with a name tag, so she’d look for one that has similar body coverage... and then, she finds a competitive swimsuit! But she wouldn’t know that competitive swimsuits are designed to reduce drag by sticking tightly to the body, so in the end she has her own, slightly weird little adventure, and that’s what’s cute!”

“I’ve never heard of your internal canon, and I don’t give a crap about your fetishes!” Aya hollered.

“Well, bikinis are your fetish, then!” Eru said accusingly.

“Fine! Then, look at it this way: do you think people would roll for a swimsuit like that?!”

“I’m not drawing this for the sake of the gacha!” Eru declared scornfully. “Perhaps you ought to spend a little less on the gacha and more on the building blocks of a brain!”

As the argument raged on, it was less “sparks flying” and more “bombs rocketing across the room.” Their intensity had frozen Kai in place by the doorway, but Nanaka had begun to approach them. She picked Eru’s printed illustration up from off of the table.

“Nanaka, what do you think?!”

“Nana-sen, what do you think?!”

The two of them whipped toward Nanaka with bloodshot eyes. She looked over the image for a moment, and then raised a concern. “Racing swimsuits... are wide open in the back, right? Say we were to go with a competitive swimsuit; do you think a front-facing angle or a back-facing angle would be better? Which would the users like more?”

Nanaka-san, I don’t think you should say— Kai didn’t so much as have time to finish his thought, let alone say it aloud.

“She’d show her back, dear,” said Eru.

“It’s gotta be from the front,” Aya disagreed.

The two of them offered their opposing opinions at precisely the same time, and things began to heat up once again. Of course, this time, Nanaka was pulled into the mix and she called for Kai’s help, so all the members of the club ended up debating about swimsuits together.

...To conclude, the four of them argued for an unreasonably long time and decided that the girl went shopping with her friends, and partially due to their suggestion, she stepped out of her comfort zone to buy a bikini. However, she ultimately couldn’t bear the embarrassment, and so the final illustration depicted her hiding under the shade with an oversized hoodie to cover herself.

Because I Want to See Your Smile

Nanaka carefully put the finishing touches on her drawing and raised her face from the cartridge paper laid out before her. She took a moment to close her eyes. They opened back up slowly, to look over the character she’d drawn, and she held the paper out at a short distance with both hands so she could get a good look.

There... weren’t any problems. At least, Nanaka didn’t notice any. In particular, she felt like the eyes she’d drawn were especially cute, and the motion of the hair had a sense of momentum that matched the jumping pose she’d set out to create.

At least... that’s what Nanaka thought.

Nanaka slowly lowered the sheet of paper taking up her line of sight. Hidden beyond it, Eru slowly came into view. She was sitting across the coffee table from Nanaka, wholly absorbed in scratching away with her pen, but she shifted her piercing gaze toward Nanaka once the drawing had been lowered.

Are you ready? she asked with her stare.

Nanaka gave her work one last look...Yes. It’s fine. If nothing else, Nanaka could puff up her chest and say she’d made something good. She nodded, before flipping the paper upside down and slowly thrusting it forward.

Eru removed her headphones and accepted the drawing with both hands as she immediately began to check it over. Nanaka didn’t even have a moment to wait with bated breath.

“This is no good, dear.” Eru had only looked at it for an instant before shaking her head. She placed the sheet on the table and pulled out a red pen from her pen case before drawing a series of red lines with zero hesitation.

And then, the marked up drawing returned to Nanaka.

“It may have been because the jumping pose was difficult, but the body structure is entirely out of balance,” Eru explained.

“I... see,” Nanaka said. The red markings all over the paper clearly displayed what would have been the proper form for the pose. Just a few seconds ago, she’d thought she had created a good drawing, but now that all came crumbling down in an instant.

“......I see,” she said again, laying out backwards with her illustration still in her hands.

“...Nanaka?”

“I’m fine.” Nanaka repeated to herself, “...I’m fine. Thanks, Eru.”

“Are you... truly okay?” Eru inquired.

Don’t worry, I really am. Nanaka forced herself up so she could look her friend in the eye as she said so, but when she sat back up, Eru was digging through her bag. Nanaka could tell right away what it was that she was searching for. The item that Eru pulled out was quickly placed on the table in front of her.

It was a sasa dango.

“Taking breaks is important, too, dear,” Eru explained.

“That’s true... Yup, thanks—hey, wait? Do you only have one?” Nanaka asked.

“We had one at home, so I simply brought that.”

“Eru,” Nanaka persisted, “do you not want any?”

“I don’t really need—” Depending on perspective, the timing was either perfect or awful. Alongside the word ‘need,’ a cute little growl came from the inside of Eru’s stomach. She didn’t act ashamed, and stoically looked down at it.

“...Pft.” Nanaka let out a small laugh as she began to untie the juncus string wound around the package. Sasa dango was a Japanese sweet in which a yomogi mochi filled with anko was wrapped in a few layers of bamboo leaves and then finally tied up with string made from juncus grass. Once she finished untying the string, Nanaka began to carefully peel off the bamboo leaves. A mistake could either leave parts of a leaf on the mochi, or break the mochi open and let the anko spill everywhere. This part required the utmost caution.

After successfully extracting the dango, Nanaka held it from two sides and split it down the middle. The appetizing red bean poked out from the cross section and let a faintly sweet smell drift from it.

“Here, Eru.”

“Nanaka, dear, you can just eat it yourself.”

“...No. Let’s eat together.”

Eru peered at the sasa dango in hesitation, but then quietly accepted. The two girls exchanged looks and took their first bites at the same time. The refreshing yomogi mochi paired with the sweetness of the granulated anko, intertwining in their mouths as they continued to chew. Yummy, they thought.

“...Hey Eru, do you remember?” Nanaka asked.

“Remember what?”

“Back when we were kids, we used to draw together like this a lot, right?”

“...That’s right,” Eru agreed.

“There was one time where I couldn’t get a drawing right, and I started pouting—only a bit, though. And then, Eru, you gave me the sasa dango that you had brought over as a snack. Like you did just now. I dunno if you remember this.”

When I eat sasa dango, Nanaka thought, sometimes I think back and wonder... Why did the ones I ate that day taste so sweet... so good? Thinking about it now, I feel like Eru started bringing sasa dango every once in a while after that. I must have made them look really tasty when I ate those first ones.

“The truth is,” she continued, “That was when I started liking sasa dango. So... I remember it super clearly.” After finishing what she’d wanted to say, Nanaka quickly gulped down the rest of the mochi. She’d eaten something good and her spirits were high; all that was left was to give it her all. “Alright!” she declared. “I’m gonna try drawing that pose one more time!”

Nanaka pulled out a fresh sheet of cartridge paper with maxed out morale. Then she looked up at Eru to see what she was doing, and noticed that she was staring back at her.

“...That story...” Eru began.

“Huh?”

“I remember that story, too.” Eru seemed embarrassed and averted her gaze, but not before adding, “There’s no way I’d forget, dear.”

Yet Again, Rain Falls Next to You

“Ah.”

Their voices rang out together. The droplet of rain that had landed on Kai’s head made its way down the side of his ear and wet his skin until it was absorbed by the collar of his shirt. Nanaka had been hit on the bridge of her nose, and she bent her right index finger to wipe it off. However, even as she was doing so, the rain began to worsen.

It was only a matter of time before it turned into a full-fledged storm, Kai realized. Niigata’s weather truly was unruly. “Let’s hurry before it starts pouring and—” run, he was going to say, but his mouth stayed shut.

Nanaka had a smug, look-what-I’ve-got expression on her face as she turned to him and asked, “What might this be?”

“...A foldable umbrella?” he guessed.

“Correct!” The umbrella opened up alongside Nanaka’s enthusiastic reply. Kai thought she’d pulled a black umbrella from her bag, but the inside had a stylish design of clear skies. Nanaka’s bright smile went so well with the umbrella’s blue sky that Kai found himself enchanted.

“...Kai-kun?”

“Ah, s-sorry! I was kinda out of it.”

“That’s fine, here.”

“What?”

“Geez, look,” said Nanaka, as she stretched out the hand with the umbrella. “Here.”

“O-Okay.” The shower around them continued to make a drip drip sound against the umbrella as it grew stronger. The noise served to hurry the already-confused Kai, and he grabbed hold of the umbrella’s handle. The action itself was mostly reflex. Nanaka looked like she was offering it, so he accepted. He didn’t think any more or less of it than that.

As a result, Kai found himself very surprised.

“Oh, you’re going to hold it for me?” Nanaka asked. “I guess that’d work out better since you’re taller than me, Kai-kun.”

“Huh? Um...” Before he could get the words out, Nanaka moved into place, slipping from his left to under the umbrella with the grace of a cat. Beneath, of course, the umbrella which Kai was holding.

The foldable umbrella was small—extremely small. If Nanaka tried to join him beneath it, they’d be extremely close by necessity. And as Kai began to comprehend their situation, his heart started beating extremely loud, to the point where it was getting to be ridiculous. To be honest, he was worried that Nanaka might be able to hear his heartbeat. Shut up shut up shut up, he prayed, but the beating of his heart wasn’t something he could will into changing.

“Kai-kun.” Kai looked down, only to face a head-on collision with Nanaka’s eyes as she looked up at him. “Aren’t we going home?”

“Um... Nanaka... san?” he managed to say.

“What’s wrong?”

“Um... well...”

“Well?”

“This is, well... we’re sharing an umbrella... right?”

“I... guess you could say that,” she agreed cautiously. “No, actually, I think you have to say that. Ahaha.” Nanaka timidly scratched at her cheek. She looked up at him again and asked, “...Do you mind?”

“Th-That’s not it!” Kai denied vehemently. That was absolutely, positively untrue. “It’s just, well, I’m fine with it... But Nanaka-san, don’t you... well, mind?”

“I...” Nanaka trailed off and averted her eyes for a moment before energetically turning back to face Kai. She had her smartphone in her hand, and it made a camera shutter sound as it flashed brightly at him. When she flipped her phone around to show him the screen, Kai saw the face of an introvert, visibly red with embarrassment in the face of an unknown situation.

“Geez! Kai-kun, you’re getting way too embarrassed! I-I figured it’d be weird to think too hard about it, so I tried my best to act normal! If you make a face like that, then even I...” Nanaka’s eyes were swimming and, like Kai, her cheeks were also gingerly red.

The sound of rain hitting the umbrella filled the silence between them.

“...L-Let’s just go home,” Nanaka suggested.

“...Y-Yeah,” he agreed.

They began to walk awkwardly through the echoing sound of rain with the gait of a three-legged race. If this were to continue forever, Kai’s heart would either explode or come to a stop. But for a little longer... For just a little longer, he wished the rain would continue. He couldn’t help but think these two paradoxical thoughts...

At least, he decided, let us walk like this all the way home.