Yesterday, the writing on the desk didn't disappear. Today, it still hasn't. Nanjou Yuuki took out his textbook and hid it from view. That was all. He was used to it by now. Or rather, he had no choice but to get used to it. Thursday afternoon. The sky outside the window had begun to fade since around the end of fifth period, and now pale gray light filtered into the classroom. After homeroom ended, most of the students left. The cleaning duty for Class 2-3 today fell to Yuuki and one other person. Kisaragi Rin. Rin swayed her chestnut-colored wolf-cut hair around her shoulders as she moved to the edge of the classroom faster than anyone else. The strands with their natural wave were slightly disheveled. Her sharp, upturned eyes glanced briefly at the blackboard, then at Yuuki. One or two seconds. That was all. After that, she crossed her arms and leaned her back against the wall by the window. It was a posture of zero motivation. Yuuki picked up the blackboard eraser. Starting from one end, he moved it vertically. White powder fell quietly. "That's graffiti on your desk, isn't it?" Rin's voice came from the direction of the blackboard. He didn't need to turn around to know. He could feel her gaze piercing his back. "...Weren't you getting the same thing done to you at your old school?" Her tone was flat. Less like mockery, more like confirmation. She was stating it as fact. Yuuki didn't stop moving the blackboard eraser. "I don't know anything about your circumstances anyway." With that, Rin fell silent. Yuuki said nothing either. There was no point in arguing back. He had no desire to explain himself. What his father did was a fact. Misconduct was misconduct. But that didn't mean he would silently accept everything. Right now, Yuuki was erasing the blackboard. It was what he could do, and he was simply doing what he could. The blackboard was clean. Next was the floor. He took out a broom from the supply closet and swept the dust from back to front. He moved the desks and swept carefully into the corners. One row at a time, from the window side to the hallway side. Rin was still leaning against the wall. (She's waiting for something.) That's what it felt like. He didn't know what she was waiting for. But she was observing. Yuuki's back, the whole time. After he finished sweeping up the dust, Yuuki took out a cleaning cloth. He filled a bucket with water and wrung it out. He began wiping the floor. More than ten minutes had passed. "...Tch." The sound of a tongue click. Then, footsteps. Rin had moved to the opposite side of the row where Yuuki was—the row closer to the hallway. She took out a cleaning cloth from the supply closet without asking and plunged her hand into the bucket. The way she wrung it out was rough. A little water dripped onto the floor. "[sarcastic]You're not cleaning like that at all, are you stupid?" Rin began wiping the hallway-side row without even looking at Yuuki. Yuuki's hands stopped for a moment. He was about to say thank you. He opened his mouth. "[cold]It's not for you. I'm the one who has to take classes in this classroom tomorrow. I just hate it being dirty." She cut him off first. Yuuki closed his mouth that was about to open. Then he began moving the cleaning cloth again. Rin was fast. Despite her rough wringing technique, her wiping was quick. By the time Yuuki finished the row by the window, Rin had already cleaned two rows on the hallway side. The two of them put the desks back in their original positions. There was no conversation. They simply pushed the desks from their respective sides and naturally aligned them. It took less than ten minutes. They put away the supplies and left the classroom. --- The shoe lockers were dim. From outside the school building, he could hear the distant voices of club activities. Soccer club or something. He took off his indoor shoes and took out his outdoor shoes. As Yuuki was tying his shoelaces, Rin's phone rang at the locker next to him. Rin moved slightly to a corner of the hallway and answered the call. "[serious]Yeah." A short response. Then for a while, she listened to the voice on the other end. Yuuki couldn't hear the content. But he could tell that Rin's tone of voice had changed slightly. "[gentle]Got it. I'll make dinner and wait." With just that, she ended the call. As she was putting her phone in her pocket, Rin looked at Yuuki. "[cold]...Were you listening?" "[serious]It was an accident. Sorry." When Yuuki apologized honestly, Rin fell silent for a moment. She lowered her gaze to her feet and pressed down on her shoe heel. "[sarcastic]...My mom works a lot of night shifts. It's not anything unusual." The way she said "not unusual" caught Yuuki's attention. The phrase "not unusual" was how someone spoke who had repeated it many times. It was the tone of someone telling it to themselves, a voice accustomed to it. Rin walked quickly toward the school gate. Her chestnut-colored hair swayed and receded into the distance. Yuuki watched her back as she left. The composure of someone too accustomed to spending nights alone. Yuuki recognized that tone. It was similar to the voice of Nakata, his childhood friend, the night before he transferred schools in middle school, when he said to Yuuki, "Don't leave me alone." A voice that hid its fear of being alone behind the word "anyway." Yuuki couldn't put a name to his feelings toward Rin. It wasn't something concrete like wanting to be friends or wanting to help her. He simply followed the outline of her back with his eyes for a while. --- After finishing his preparations to leave, Yuuki walked down the hallway of the north building. He had intended to head to the second floor of the south building. He thought he'd check on the matter of submitted materials that Gamou-sensei had mentioned during homeroom yesterday. Before the corner—near the staff room—there was a voice in the hallway. It was Gamou-sensei's voice. Another female teacher's voice was mixed in. Yuuki walked with quieter footsteps. He wasn't deliberately trying to listen. It was just that the hallway was narrow, and the two of them were standing in front of the door. "...Apparently the education board's reporting hotline won't accept anonymous reports." "[surprised]Really?" "[serious]They say the system is set up so that if you write your real name, that information also reaches the school. It's called a consultation hotline, but..." "[surprised]Then no one can say anything." "[cold]Exactly. Even though it's officially called a consultation hotline, in practice, no one can use it." The two of them ended their conversation with wry smiles and went into the staff room. Yuuki stood in the middle of the hallway. For a while, he couldn't move. It was just casual conversation. Those two had no ill intent. It was just idle talk in front of the staff room. But the meaning of the words was heavy. The Miharu City Education Board's reporting hotline—a system for students and parents to lodge complaints against teachers—doesn't accept anonymous reports. The reporter's real name reaches the school as well. If he reported it, his name would be exposed to the school. Yuuki thought back to his old school. There had been a classmate who tried to "report" something at that school. As a result, that student's name circulated among the teachers, and they became even more isolated. When you got labeled as "the one who told" within a school, what changed? Nothing. The only thing that changed was the position of the person who made the report. Even if you tried to do the right thing, the system blocked you. Yuuki began walking slowly. Nothing was resolved. He had simply learned one more piece of how the world was structured. --- He passed by the side of the gymnasium. Walking along the outer wall, he found an iron door on the back side of the building. A padlock hung on it. There were no utility poles or anything around the door. The sky was open, with nothing obstructing the view. Except—there were no cameras. He checked the upper part of the wall. There was a camera at the main entrance of the gymnasium. But there wasn't a single one on this back side. It was a blind spot for the security cameras. Yuuki simply passed by. He just burned it into his memory. That such a place existed. Through the glass of the judo hall, he could see inside. Students in white gi were silently practicing falling techniques. The sound of *thud, thud* echoed outside. The instructor was nowhere to be seen. (Still not here?) That was all he thought. Nothing was happening. It was just an ordinary afternoon. --- When he returned to his home in Wakabadai 2-chome, no one was there as expected. His father was at the factory today. His mother was at her part-time job. He climbed into his six-mat room and sat at his desk. He opened his phone. No notifications. No one from his old school had contacted him. He didn't think they would anymore. He couldn't say he was okay with that, but he was used to them not coming. Yuuki looked out the window. Evening light fell on the residential streets of Wakabadai. He could almost smell dinner cooking somewhere. An ordinary night in someone's home. Rin was probably making dinner alone right now. "It's not anything unusual." That way of speaking came back to his mind again. When did something unusual become usual? How long did it take to get used to it? Yuuki didn't know. But he was certain that he recognized the quality of that voice. It was familiar to him. More than that, the talk about the education board from today kept catching in his mind. Even if you report it, your name reaches the school. Words his father had once said suddenly came to him. "It might have been different if there had been evidence." Not emotion, but facts were necessary. To make an accusation, you needed evidence. If you couldn't use the system, you had to move outside of it. What was needed then wasn't emotion or a sense of justice—it was evidence. It was still a formless thought. He wasn't trying to do anything. It was just that those two things—his father's words and the conversation he'd overheard in the hallway today—quietly lined up inside him. Whether Rin would come to school tomorrow or not. Such a small thing was floating somewhere in his chest. Before the world outside the window became completely dark, Yuuki opened his textbook.