Chapter 8 — Apparently, Libraries Aren't Quiet Anymore

Several days passed.

The transfer student stopped being news surprisingly quickly.

That wasn't because people had lost interest in her.

Quite the opposite.

She had simply stopped feeling like a transfer student.

By the end of her second day, she already knew where everything was.

By the third, she had people waiting for her before lunch.

By the fourth, seeing her surrounded by classmates felt so normal that it was difficult to remember there had been an empty seat there only a few days ago.

She had become part of the class.

Just like that.

Impressive.

Meanwhile, I had accomplished something equally remarkable.

I finally knew her surname.

Hanazawa.

Not because I asked.

That would have required effort.

Teachers called on her during class. Classmates called her from across the room. After hearing the same name approximately thirty times, even I couldn't continue pretending I didn't know it.

Her first name, though...

That was another matter.

I had probably heard it at some point.

Probably.

Unfortunately, asking now seemed worse than asking on the first day.

Hey, we've been classmates for several days. What's your name again?

No.

Absolutely not.

I'd learn it eventually.

Names had a tendency to reveal themselves when you waited long enough.

Probably.

Our interactions during those first few days were almost nonexistent anyway.

Sometimes our eyes met.

Sometimes she smiled.

I usually responded with a small nod.

Once, she borrowed an eraser from the person sitting behind me.

A deeply significant event in our relationship.

Other than that, she had her circle.

I had mine.

Well...

I had a window.

And that arrangement worked perfectly fine.

At least, that's what I thought.

Until lunch break that day.

＊ ＊ ＊

There was one place in school where nobody expected me to talk.

The library.

More specifically, the second floor of the library.

The first floor was what you'd expect from a school library, long tables, students pretending to study, groups whispering loudly enough that their whispers stopped qualifying as whispers, and at least one person desperately finishing an assignment that had been given three days ago.

The second floor was different.

Smaller.

Quieter.

And, most importantly, unpopular.

The tables there were mostly designed for one person.

Not exactly ideal for groups who wanted to “study” while spending forty minutes discussing something completely unrelated to school.

Even small conversations were easy to hear.

So most students stayed downstairs.

Which meant—

the second floor was perfect.

I'd discovered it sometime during my first year and had been using it ever since.

There were several smaller rooms farther inside where older books, journals, reference materials, and other things students only remembered existed when a teacher assigned something inconvenient were kept.

Students occasionally went up there when they actually needed something.

But the little reading area near the windows?

Almost nobody stayed.

I had claimed one table beside the window.

Not officially, of course.

I didn't own it.

But I had sat there enough times that I had begun feeling personally offended whenever somebody else used it.

The view wasn't bad either.

Being higher up meant I could see beyond the school buildings, across several rooftops and toward the trees in the distance.

It was peaceful.

Quiet.

Private.

And excellent for academic purposes.

Such as sleeping.

That afternoon, I finished lunch a little earlier than usual and headed there as I normally did.

I still had plenty of time before our next class.

Plenty.

That word would become important later.

I dropped my bag beside the chair and sat down.

For a few minutes, I actually looked out the window.

See?

Academic discipline.

Then I folded my arms on the table and rested my head on them.

Five minutes.

That was all I needed.

I'd close my eyes for five minutes, wake up feeling refreshed, and head back to class with time to spare.

A flawless plan.

Which, as everyone knows, is the kind of thought people have immediately before making a terrible decision.

I closed my eyes.

＊ ＊ ＊

The chains creaked.

I opened my eyes.

A playground stretched in front of me.

For some reason, I was small again.

My feet barely touched the dirt beneath the swing.

The afternoon sky was orange.

There was nobody around.

No voices.

No children running.

Just me.

I looked down at my hands.

Something hurt.

I couldn't remember what.

But my chest felt heavy.

Then—

“Are you crying?”

I froze.

That voice.

I knew that voice.

I turned toward the swing beside me.

Someone was there.

A girl.

The sunlight was behind her, hiding her face.

“No,” I heard myself say.

“Your eyes are red.”

“Dust.”

“There isn't any wind.”

“Aggressive dust.”

She laughed.

I knew that laugh too.

I leaned forward.

Her face was still hidden.

For some reason, I desperately wanted to see it.

Who were you?

The girl leaned toward me.

Slowly.

The light shifted.

Just a little more and—

Tap.

...

Tap.

“...Hey.”

The playground disappeared.

My eyes opened.

There was a face directly in front of mine.

A girl's face.

Very.

Very.

Close.

“WAH—?!”

My chair scraped backward.

The sound that came out of me was somewhere between a shout and the final cry of a dying animal.

Every head on the second floor turned toward me.

From downstairs, I could actually hear someone say:

“What was that?”

Then came the most terrifying sound known to mankind.

“Shhhhhhh!”

The librarian.

I froze.

“...Sorry.”

A few students were staring.

One guy looked genuinely concerned for my survival.

And standing beside my table—

was Hanazawa.

Her hand was still halfway extended toward my shoulder.

She looked almost as startled as I was.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then she whispered,

“I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you.”

“No, it's fine. I was just—”

“I only tapped your shoulder!”

“I know.”

“You suddenly shouted!”

“I know.”

“Really loudly.”

“Yes, Hanazawa. I was there.”

She pressed her lips together.

Her shoulders moved.

I stared at her.

“...Are you laughing?”

She shook her head quickly.

“No.”

Her shoulders moved again.

“You are.”

“I'm trying not to.”

“That's somehow worse.”

A tiny sound escaped her.

I pointed at her.

“You're definitely laughing.”

“I'm sorry!”

“You don't look sorry.”

That almost finished her.

She covered her mouth with both hands.

Another—

“Shhhhhhh!”

We both froze.

Then lowered our heads at the same time.

“...Sorry.”

Silence returned.

I looked at the clock on the wall.

Then stopped.

...

Wait.

“What time is it?”

She pointed at the clock.

My eyes widened.

Our next class started in—

“Oh.”

“That's why I woke you up.”

I stood immediately and grabbed my bag.

“You probably would've slept through class.”

“...Oh.”

She gave me a small, apologetic smile.

“I was looking for something in one of the rooms back there. When I passed by, I saw you sleeping.”

I glanced toward the shelves behind her.

“So you came all the way over just to wake me?”

“Well...”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“We're classmates.”

Something about the way she said it caught me off guard.

Not because it meant anything special.

It didn't.

We were classmates.

That was all.

Still—

“Thanks.”

She blinked.

Then smiled.

“You're welcome.”

We hurried downstairs.

＊ ＊ ＊

“I'm really sorry.”

We had barely left the library.

I looked at her.

“You're apologizing again?”

“You looked really surprised.”

“I was asleep.”

“I noticed.”

“And when I woke up, your face was right in front of mine.”

She stopped walking.

“It was not!”

I stopped too.

“It absolutely was.”

“I was just leaning closer so I could whisper.”

“You were approximately five centimeters away.”

“Five?! I was not five centimeters away!”

“Seven, then.”

“That is not any better!”

I almost laughed.

Almost.

“You were sleeping with your head down,” she continued, now defending herself with both hands. “If I spoke normally, I would've disturbed everyone.”

“You could've called my name.”

She opened her mouth.

Then stopped.

Her expression changed.

“...I only know your surname.”

I stared at her.

“Seriously?”

“We've barely talked!”

“Fair.”

She narrowed her eyes.

Then something seemed to occur to her.

“Wait.”

I didn't like that.

“Do you know my name?”

“Of course.”

“My first name.”

...

Her eyes widened.

“You don't!”

“I know your surname.”

“That doesn't count!”

“It counted five seconds ago when you used the exact same excuse.”

“That's different.”

“How?”

“Because I'm the transfer student!”

“That actually makes your name harder to know.”

She stared at me for a second.

Then her eyes slowly narrowed.

“...You sneezed during my introduction, didn't you?”

“There were circumstances.”

“You sneezed.”

“There were circumstances involving a sneeze.”

Her hand rose to her mouth.

“Oh.”

“No.”

Her eyes brightened.

“That was why?”

“Hanazawa.”

“You missed my name because you sneezed?”

“Could we move on?”

She laughed.

Not the polite little laugh she gave classmates during casual conversations.

An actual laugh.

I stared ahead and continued walking.

For someone who had apologized repeatedly for startling me, she seemed remarkably comfortable enjoying my suffering.

When she finally recovered, she took a breath.

“Mizuki.”

I looked at her.

She smiled.

“Mizuki Hanazawa.”

There it was.

The information I had somehow avoided learning for several days.

I nodded.

“Haruki Fujimoto.”

“I know.”

I looked at her.

She immediately smiled wider.

“Your surname, I mean.”

“Right.”

“Although I think someone called you Haruki earlier.”

“So you knew more of my name than I knew of yours.”

“Apparently.”

“Unfair.”

“You had several opportunities.”

“I was waiting for your name to reveal itself naturally.”

She stared at me.

“And did it?”

I considered the last five minutes.

“Eventually.”

She laughed again.

There.

We finally had names for each other.

An ordinary introduction, several days late.

Nothing happened.

No lightning.

No sudden realization.

No forgotten memory came rushing back.

Why would it?

Mizuki Hanazawa was a transfer student I'd barely spoken to.

The girl from the playground belonged to another part of my life.

A part I'd stopped trying to reach a long time ago.

We continued walking.

“So,” Mizuki said, “do you always sleep in the library?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Sometimes I look out the window first.”

She stared at me.

“Then sleep?”

“Then sleep.”

“That's somehow worse.”

“It's a carefully developed routine.”

“Very academic.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn't a compliment.”

“I accepted it as one.”

She laughed again.

Strangely—

talking to her wasn't difficult.

Maybe because the conversation was stupid.

Stupid conversations were easier.

There was nothing to explain.

Nothing personal to protect.

No reason to think too hard about what came next.

I could just answer.

And she would answer back.

That was all.

Probably.

We reached the classroom just before the teacher.

The moment I stepped through the door, someone looked at me.

Then another.

Then another.

Why were they smiling?

I narrowed my eyes.

“What?”

One of my classmates grinned.

“Nice scream.”

...

No.

I slowly looked toward Mizuki.

She looked equally confused.

“How do you know about that?”

“The library is not soundproof, genius.”

Someone from the back imitated the noise I'd made.

Badly.

“I did not sound like that.”

“You absolutely did.”

“I was there,” another said. “We heard you downstairs.”

I put my bag on my chair.

“I hate this school.”

Mizuki covered her mouth again.

I pointed at her without looking.

“Don't.”

That made her laugh anyway.

The teacher walked in.

Everyone immediately returned to their seats.

Finally.

Safety.

“Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, sir.”

He placed his things on the desk.

Then he looked directly at me.

A smile appeared.

No.

“Before we begin...”

Please don't.

“...I heard our class has discovered a new method for enforcing silence in the library.”

The room exploded.

I closed my eyes.

Of course.

Of course the librarian had told someone.

“Sir,” I said, “I would like to exercise my right to remain silent.”

“In the library?”

More laughter.

Even I couldn't stop myself from smiling.

“Especially in the library.”

“What happened?”

I could feel Mizuki's eyes on me.

I could have told them.

Hanazawa startled me.

Her face was suddenly close.

I woke up confused and nearly died in front of the reference section.

Technically, none of that was embarrassing for her.

Still...

I glanced toward her.

For the first time since the teacher asked, she wasn't laughing.

She looked almost worried.

As if she expected me to tell them.

I looked back at the teacher.

“Weird dream.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“That must have been some dream.”

“You have no idea, sir.”

The class laughed again.

And that was enough.

The teacher finally started the lesson.

I opened my notebook.

A few seats ahead and toward the middle of the classroom, Mizuki turned around.

Our eyes met.

She was smiling.

Not laughing this time.

Just—

smiling.

I raised an eyebrow.

She mouthed two words.

Thank you.

I frowned.

For what?

Then I understood.

I hadn't mentioned her.

I shrugged as if it didn't matter.

Because it didn't.

Probably.

She turned back around.

I looked down at my notebook.

For a moment, the dream returned.

The playground.

The swing.

The girl sitting beside me.

Are you crying?

I tried to remember her face.

Nothing.

Only sunlight.

Only the vague shape of someone sitting beside me.

Only a memory that had become softer around the edges with time.

Then, without permission, another face appeared in its place.

Brown eyes.

Wavy brown hair.

A girl standing much too close to a sleeping person in a library.

I frowned.

No.

That was only because Mizuki had been the first thing I saw when I woke up.

My brain had simply mixed the two together.

Dreams did that.

Probably.

I picked up my pen.

At the front of the room, the teacher continued writing on the board.

Mizuki was taking notes a few seats ahead.

Nothing unusual.

Nothing mysterious.

Just a new classmate.

A classmate who had saved me from sleeping through an entire period.

A classmate whose first name I had finally learned.

A classmate who laughed far too much at my suffering.

I looked down at my notebook.

For some reason, I was smiling.

I immediately stopped.

... 14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbTRySX06I4

Weird.

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