Last night's events were still lingering in my head. I'd collapsed on the sofa, stared at the ceiling, marked my father's message as read. Ate a bento box alone, fell asleep without even turning on the lights. It was just one night, but it felt strangely long. Gojou Satoru straightened his uniform necktie as he entered Class 3-A. Today, too, the September sky was visible through the window. A little brighter than yesterday. "[whispers]Hey, there's supposed to be a transfer student today, right?" "[whispers]And she's a girl, apparently" The classroom buzzed with activity. Satoru took his seat—the last row by the window—and glanced at the desk beside him. The one he and Asahina-sensei had moved yesterday. Empty. (What kind of person is she?) Honestly, he was a little curious. Ever since last night. --- When homeroom started, Asahina Yukiko-sensei entered the classroom. Round-framed glasses as always, a soft smile. But today, there was someone else behind her. "[gentle]Well, we have a new member joining us today. This is Kugisaki Nobuko. Come on in" The classroom stirred. A girl with a short bob cut walked in. Bangs cut diagonally, hair a purplish red. Black blazer, red necktie—somehow, despite the uniform, she wore it like casual clothes. Around 158 centimeters tall. Sharp red eyes swept across the classroom, lingering on no one in particular. "I'm Kugisaki Nobuko" That was it. Everyone waited for her to continue. There was nothing. The class murmured slightly. Asahina-sensei gently prompted her. "[gentle]Maybe say something more...?" "[cold]I'll say whatever's on my mind. Nice to meet you" The classroom fell silent. It wasn't really silence—it was the sound of the entire class waiting for "Is that really it?" before she actually finished. "...That's all" "[gentle]R-right. Well then, your seat is over here, next to Gojou" Nobuko walked over. Last row by the window, next to Satoru. Satoru couldn't remember later what he'd been thinking at that moment. His mouth just moved reflexively, like always. "[sarcastic]Nice to meet you. You're lucky sitting next to me—I'm the school's number one hottie, so you won't be bored" He grinned. His usual move. There wasn't even a second's pause. "[cold]You're the worst" She pulled out her chair and sat down. That was all. Like she was confirming something obvious. Like she was commenting on the weather. Satoru froze. The class exploded. "[surprised]Huh!?" Laughter erupted. "No way," "That's crazy," "On the first day!?" voices flew from all directions. Girls giggled, boys looked at Satoru with "oh man" expressions. Satoru sat alone in the laughter, something not quite working right. "[surprised]...Did you just say I'm the worst?" Nobuko didn't turn around. "[cold]Yeah. The worst" She nodded, completely serious. The class's laughter exploded again, even louder. Gojou Satoru, seventeen years old. He'd never been directly denied by a girl before. He'd made girls cry with compliments. But he'd never been called the worst. His mind went completely blank. --- Lunch break. Satoru sat on a bench on the roof, holding a yakisoba pan from the school store, not moving for a while. Behind the water tank. Concrete floor. The weakening September sunlight. Just another ordinary lunch. (...The worst, huh.) He took a bite of the yakisoba pan. It tasted like nothing. I was just welcoming her. My seat next to me is prime real estate, right? Normally. So what's the worst about that? I don't get it. I really don't. But for some reason, something else was bothering him more. Satoru leaned out from the edge of the water tank and looked toward the windows on the third floor of the main building. (What's that girl doing right now?) He quickly pulled his head back. (Why do I care? She's the one who said I'm the worst.) Another bite of yakisoba pan. ...He looked again. Third floor windows. He couldn't pinpoint exactly which one. But his gaze kept drifting that way on its own. Until now, Satoru had never been the one "looking." He was always the one being looked at. Walk down the hallway and he felt eyes on him. Sit down and girls would talk to him. That was normal. Now I'm looking at windows. That feels really weird. He finished the pan and shoved the wrapper in his pocket. (That girl doesn't get it.) He thought that, but somehow he felt a little more energized than before. He had no idea why. --- Meanwhile, in Class 3-A. Nobuko was eating her grandmother's homemade onigiri at her desk. Plum and salmon. The ones Hatsu-baachan had made in the kitchen this morning. "Eat plenty on your first day of transfer," she'd said, making one extra like always. The classroom was lively with friend groups chatting. One meter around her was silent. (...Yeah, figures.) It was the same at her last school. Every time she said something, people would make faces like "Uh, scary" or "That girl's kind of..." She wasn't saying anything mean. She was just saying what she thought. But apparently that's "scary." She took another bite of onigiri. The salmon's saltiness spread across her tongue. Baachan always added a little extra salt. "When you're tired, salty is best," she'd say. The class's laughter echoed. Nobuko took another bite and looked out the window. --- After school. When homeroom ended, Asahina-sensei posted a handout on the blackboard. "[gentle]Well, starting Thursday this week, we'll begin preparations for the Harukaze Festival. Let's decide what Class 3-A will do today. Anyone with ideas, raise your hand" The Harukaze Festival—held every October on the second weekend, it was Harukaze Academy's cultural festival. About 3,500 visitors came over the two days. The gymnasium stage hosted volunteer performances, and because past students had confessed in front of the audience, it had quietly become known locally as "the confession holy ground." For third-year students, it was their last cultural festival. Everyone was fired up. "[excited]A haunted house!" "[excited]A café would be nice!" "[excited]Something like a festival!" Ideas flew out rapidly. Then Satoru raised his hand. "[serious]I'll take charge, so leave it to me. We're wasting time, let's just decide" The classroom got a little quiet. It was true that things ended quickly when Satoru took charge, and he was good at organizing. But somehow it felt like things would just get decided fast. A few classmates exchanged glances. Then a voice came. "[cold]Taking charge? Won't that just turn into your bragging session?" Silence. Satoru turned around. Nobuko sat calmly, arms crossed, completely composed. "[cold]Everyone already gave their opinions. Why not actually listen to them?" Satoru started to say something, then stopped. Every single classmate was holding their breath, watching Satoru. Normally, Satoru would brush it off with something smooth. But this time— (...She's not wrong.) He couldn't say anything. What Nobuko said wasn't wrong. Everyone had given their opinions. He'd said he'd "organize" before listening to them. That was all. It was logical. A few seconds of silence. "[serious]...Yeah, everyone give your opinions" He said it quietly. The classroom's atmosphere loosened. Opinions started flowing. Haunted house, café, festival stuff, mystery solving. Opinions overlapped, mixed, and gradually converged on "haunted house plus merchandise sales." The meeting was more active than usual, Satoru noticed from the corner of his eye. (This girl... is interesting.) He felt frustrated. But separate from that frustration, something else he couldn't quite understand was spreading through his chest. When the meeting ended and he was leaving the classroom, one of the boys whispered in his ear. "[whispers]Hey, you were way quieter than usual today" "[cold]Shut up" He turned his face away and stood up. --- Walking down Harukaze Street in front of Minami Harukaze Station, he passed Kogane-do. The smell of red bean paste from the taiyaki drifted out. The shopping street after school had scattered students in uniforms. Satoru was heading toward the station to stop by Every Mart when his feet stopped. In the small plaza in front of the station. Nobuko was standing by a bench. Holding her phone in both hands, looking at the screen while turning right, then left. Then right again. Completely lost. A vertical crease between her eyebrows, her lips slightly pouted. Satoru stopped. (...Her.) He could call out. Ask where she was trying to go, tell her. That would be it. He could normally do that easily. He took a step forward. —But he stopped. What would he say? "I'll show you the way"? That's basically saying "I'll be there for you." Same as when he said "let me take charge" in front of everyone. How could I say anything with the same mouth that couldn't talk back to her? Nobuko operated her phone and started walking in a different direction. Probably the wrong way, he thought vaguely. But Satoru didn't call out. He just walked past her. Nobuko didn't notice. Or if she did, she didn't show it. --- On the way home, while pressing the elevator button, Satoru kept thinking about it. Eleventh floor. He walked down the hallway and entered his apartment. He didn't turn on the lights. He sank into the living room sofa. The same ceiling as last night. The same silence. The refrigerator's hum. The sound of cars outside the window. Last night he'd seen his father's message and just eaten his bento. Tonight, something else wouldn't leave his head. —You're the worst. Her first words. Not even a second's pause. He'd never been told something so bluntly before. —Won't that just turn into your bragging session? He couldn't talk back. It should have been frustrating, but somehow it wasn't. —He couldn't call out to her. That was what was still bothering him now. (Why couldn't I call out to her?) He looked up at the ceiling. Dark. He'd always been the center of attention. Always at the center. He'd never even thought about approaching someone. But today, I kept wondering where that girl was. Looked at the windows from the roof. Stopped in the plaza. I still have no idea what that means. "...I don't get it" He said it alone and laughed a little. He lay down on the sofa and set his phone aside. Next time, he wanted to at least be able to call out to her. He thought that, but he had absolutely no idea how to do it.