“Bubby, Hina’s here.”

I woke up to the sound of someone calling me.

It was seven o’clock, a full thirty minutes of missed sleep before my alarm rang.

I begrudgingly sat up from my bed to make sure I hadn’t been imagining the voice, and I got my answer when I saw Mana in her apron, standing in the doorway to my room.

“Why exactly is Hina here?”

“How would I know?”

I looked at my phone and noticed I had missed calls from Fushimi since six thirty.

…Is it an emergency?

“I figured you must be starving, so I made you extra breakfast today.”

“Thanks… You’d make a great wife, y’know?”

Gyaru-ness notwithstanding.

“Wh-what the hell are you talking about?! It’s too early in the morning for this!”

I reckoned I shouldn’t go out in my sweats, so I put on a coat before heading to the entrance.

“Good morning, Ryou.”

“Morning.”

“I came here to wake you up, but I guess you were already awake. Good, good,” she said while patting my still half-asleep head.

“Isn’t it too early for that?”

“You think so? I always wake up at six thirty.”

And that is too early. It’s a whole hour before I wake up!

The way from home to school was only around thirty minutes, including both the train and walking. Homeroom started at eight thirty, so leaving home just before eight o’clock gave me more than enough time.

“Now that we’re class reps, we shouldn’t be arriving late. The thought had me up and at ’em this morning.”

Her eyes were clear and open. Meanwhile, mine were still groggy and struggling not to close.

Fushimi was already transformed into her usual honor-student self. “Mind if I wait outside for you?” she said.

“Sure, if you want to.”

“Thanks,” she said before walking out.

Now I couldn’t go back to bed, so I headed to the dining room to get my fill of Mana’s breakfast.

“So why’s she here?”

“Um…to pick me up?”

“Was Hina always the type to do that?”

It was the sort of thing a childhood friend would do, but it wasn’t her style. Although, she had done it a couple of times when we were in the early years of elementary school. Actually, those are kinda fond memories.

“Are you two going out?”

“Bwuh?!” The miso soup gushed out of my mouth. “No. Not at all.”

“Uh-huhhh,” she answered back after glancing at the entrance.

I quickly finished breakfast and got ready before going outside and finding Fushimi, who was waiting for me and killing time on her phone. We headed schoolward right away.

Based on my observations of the previous year’s class reps, the job didn’t have much to it.

They said the greetings and farewells at the start and end of class, collected everyone’s homework and gave it to the teachers, relayed the teachers’ announcements, and did other similar chores.

We also had to coordinate the class during events, but I knew I didn’t have to worry about that with the diligent princess and her powerful sway over everyone on my side.

The school day came and went, and when it was over, I was writing in the class journal when I noticed the girl sitting beside me was staring at me.

“…What?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just amazed at how much effort you’re putting into this.” Fushimi smiled at me.

I can’t do it with you staring at me like that.

I wrote down a summary of the day’s classes, then closed the journal.

That was when I became aware only the two of us were left in the classroom.

I guessed Fushimi got bored of staring at me: She was now face down on her desk, relaxing like a cat at home.

Now we just had to take the journal to our homeroom teacher, and our class-rep duties for the day would be done.

“So what do you talk about with Torigoe during lunch?”

“Nothing, really.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup. We only glance at each other like Oh, so you came, then eat in silence.”

It had always been like that. The lack of conversation never made it awkward for us or anything.

“I wonder why she volunteered, too,” she said.

“Huh?”

Fushimi puffed her cheeks, and I stared very closely at her, as if she had the answer written there.

“To put it on her transcript or something?” I mused.

“Ah… Yeah, we’ll be third-years next year.”

It was a blind guess, but apparently, that was convincing enough for her.

We walked through the quiet hallways, bags and journal in our hands. Occasionally, we’d hear the muffled practice of the brass band in the distance.

“Did you also do it for your transcript?”

“Anyone who truly cared about that would never skip class like me.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

If anything, it was the mood in the classroom then. Everyone was expecting someone else to do it. I didn’t like that feeling.

I worried someone with a big mouth—in many ways—would take over the class, and that would come back to bite me.

We left the class journal at our homeroom teacher’s seat in the staff room, then made our way to the entrance.

The clouds beyond the windows were turning dark, and just when I thought it might rain, waterdrops started hitting the windows and drawing lines on the glass.

The rain was already so strong you could see it coming down by the time I changed into my sneakers at the entrance.

“Ryou, did you bring an umbrella?”

“No. The forecast didn’t say there would be rain.”

“Hee-hee. I suspected this might happen, so I—”

“Oh, a spare umbrella!”

There was a black one in the umbrella stand. It wasn’t someone else’s—everyone understood it was there for the community, in case of emergency. Part of the unspoken rule was to return it after.

“Oh? Y-you found one?”

“Thanks, whoever put this here. Oh, were you about to say something?”

“N-no! I wasn’t!” She shook her head and both hands hard.

“Really?” I asked again, opening the umbrella up. It was too small for the two of us, but it was better than nothing.

We walked through the downpour straight to the station.

“I might get wet if we don’t get closer… Is that okay?”

“How about I do this?” I held the umbrella so it leaned more toward her. She shouldn’t get wet now.

“Then you’ll get wet,” she complained.

“Only my shoulder. It’s no big deal.”

“Oh, c’mon.” She inched closer, her shoulder touching mine. “Now we’re good.”

Well, I’m not. This is too close.

Thinking back, I remembered that Fushimi drew an umbrella on the blackboard way back when.

“Ryou, let’s put our names under the umbrella!”

“Why? What’s that?”

“They say if you do this, you’ll marry each other!”

“I’ve never heard of it, but I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Maybe she still believes that legend or whatever she was wrong about.

…Huh? What is that strap sticking out of her bag?

“And then…later, I said…” She was talking quite enthusiastically, but I was more intrigued by the mysterious object.

I leaned closer and noticed the strap was coming out of a handle.

…Is that a folding umbrella?

“Fushimi, did you bring an umbrella?”

“…Huh? N-no…why would I?” she retorted, turning away.

Hey. Look me right in the eye.

Fushimi panicked and pushed the strap and handle down into her bag.

“…”

“…So as I was saying…”

“Don’t change the subject!”

Fushimi gave up and pouted. “I-is that so bad? What’s the harm? I’ve just…always wanted to try…sharing an umbrella with the one I love.” She furrowed her brow sulkily. “…I just wanted to try it in real life,” she muttered embarrassingly, her cheeks red.

I couldn’t help but smile. I never saw her blush like that at school.

“Are you laughing at me? Geez!” she snapped, but then smiled.

The rain seemed to be just passing by—it had already stopped by the time we arrived at the station. Fushimi’s shoulder was touching mine the whole way.