Tuesday morning. Third-year Class A. September sunlight filtered faintly through the windows. Yesterday——he'd spotted Nobuko at the station and hadn't called out to her——it was still caught in the corner of Gojou's mind. Should he have said he'd be there for her? No, she'd hate that. Then what should he have said? He didn't know. Gojou sat by the window, staring blankly at the blackboard. The classroom before homeroom was filled with the usual chatter. Girls clustered together talking, boys chatting in the hallway. That kind of nothing time, like the smell of morning coffee. But around Nobuko, there was a one-meter radius of silence. One week since the transfer. Purple-tinged red bob cut, sharp red eyes. Nobuko sat at her desk, textbook open. Not talking to anyone, not being talked to by anyone. The girls' groups formed circles and laughed, but Nobuko wasn't in them. Wasn't being let in——or rather, she wasn't trying to join, and they weren't trying to let her. As for the boys, they kept their distance, treating her as "the girl who called Gojou the worst." From what he'd overheard in the hallway, getting close to Nobuko made the atmosphere scary, apparently. （……Everyone's overthinking this） That's what Gojou thought. There was one more thing he was actually thinking——her back looked strangely tense. Nobuko kept her spine straight, turning pages in her textbook. Whether she was actually reading the pages or just giving her eyes somewhere to look, he couldn't tell from a distance. （Maybe it was the same at her old school） The thought floated up, and Gojou immediately pushed it away. No point thinking about things he didn't know. But he'd stood up. Before he knew it, he was on his feet, walking over to the side of Nobuko's desk. Arms crossed. His usual stance. "[serious]You don't have any friends?" Nobuko didn't look up. "[sarcastic]I'll be your friend, so relax." One second. Nobuko lifted her eyes from the textbook. Slowly. Looking at Gojou. Those red eyes fixed on him. "[cold]I don't want that." Short. "[cold]I'd rather be alone than get sympathy from you." Then her gaze returned to the textbook. Like she was saying it was over. Gojou was completely sunk. Utterly. Spectacularly. Not a word in return. One of the boys nearby muttered under his breath. "[whispers]……He's always the one getting confessed to, but when he actually makes a move, instant rejection?" Gojou turned around. The boy's eyes darted to the window. But his shoulders were shaking. Holding back laughter. "[cold]I can hear you." "[whispers]I was just laughing a little." The homeroom chime rang. --- After school. Classmates left one by one. Grabbing bags, stepping into the hallway in indoor shoes, laughter fading into the distance. The classroom grew quieter and quieter. Gojou was messing with his phone on the stairwell landing. Not that he had anything urgent. He just didn't feel like going to the roof today. After a while, he remembered something. The Japanese handout. The one passed out yesterday, due tomorrow. He thought he'd left it in the classroom. He clicked his tongue and retraced his steps. He grabbed the sliding door to Class 3-A and opened it. The classroom lights were off. Evening sun streamed through the windows, orange light spreading across the desks like a lick of flame. There shouldn't have been anyone. There was. Back row. Second seat from the window——Nobuko's seat. Nobuko sat alone, origami spread across her desk. Colorful sheets of paper lined up. In her hands, a half-finished paper crane. She was making decorations for the school festival, apparently. The origami decorations decided on yesterday's meeting, to be used as props for the haunted house. She was doing all of it alone. With clumsy hands, she tried to fold the crane's wings, got it slightly wrong, corrected it. She was humming softly. Gojou couldn't move. That sharp-tongued Nobuko, sitting alone in the evening sun, folding paper cranes while humming. That sight was somehow so real——so completely different from the face he saw in the classroom——Gojou had no idea how to speak to her. Nobuko sensed his presence and looked up. Their eyes met. Nobuko didn't say anything. Didn't look surprised. Just looked at Gojou, then returned her gaze to the origami. Gojou walked toward his own desk. Looking for the Japanese handout. He opened the drawer, and sure enough, it was there. He took it out. He should have left. He'd meant to leave. But his feet stopped, and before he knew it, he was pulling out the chair at the desk next to Nobuko's——the desk that had been next to his until yesterday——and sitting down. No words were exchanged. Nobuko said nothing either. A sheet of origami lay at the edge of the desk. Gojou picked it up. A yellow one. Without thinking about what to fold, he just folded it in half. For a while, there was silence. The two of them folded origami without speaking. Voices of students heading home echoed from outside the classroom, gradually fading, then disappearing. The color of the evening sun deepened bit by bit. Gojou was trying to fold a crane. The angle of the wings wasn't working out. One more time. It went wrong again. Damn it. "[sarcastic]……What'd you get in art?" Nobuko said it quietly, still folding the crane in her hands. Eyes still down. "[cold]Shut up. I'm a science person." "[cold]That's not relevant." "[sarcastic]Science people don't care if their cranes are bent." "[cold]That's a problem." Nobuko finally finished one crane. It was perfectly formed. Gojou honestly thought her hands were skilled. After a while, Nobuko's eyes turned toward the back of the classroom. On top of the locker. A small cactus sitting silently. That cactus that's been there since EP1. Gojou looked in the same direction. "[serious]That thing——nobody knows who brought it, but it's been here the whole time." There was a pause. "[serious]Cacti are pretty tough, huh." Nobuko lifted her eyes from the origami and looked at the cactus. For about three seconds. "[cold]Cacti are only tough against dryness." She said it quietly. "[cold]If you don't water them, they'll die." Then she went back to the origami. Gojou's hands stopped. She was talking about the cactus. He understood that. But somehow it felt like more than that. Only tough against dryness. They'll die if you don't water them. Had anyone ever watered it——the question formed in his head, then shifted shape. Had he ever really been there for someone? Had he kept saying "I'll be there for you," and was that actually helping them? There was no answer. The evening sun dyed the cactus and their desks the same orange. Gojou looked at his bent crane again. The paper edges were messy. But he didn't stop folding. --- The next morning. The third-floor hallway was strangely lively from the start. "[whispers]Hey, did you hear? Gojou's been getting ignored by the transfer student Kugisaki this whole time." "[whispers]It's been a week since she called him the worst, and they still haven't gotten close at all, right?" "[whispers]Isn't that basically getting rejected?" "[whispers]He got rejected, totally." Giggling laughter. Gojou walked down the hallway, hearing it on his back. （I didn't confess） He argued only in his mind. The words didn't come out. Even if they did, no one would listen. Rejected. Every time that word hit his ears, it stung. Like an insect bite, sting after sting. When he entered the classroom, the girl in front turned to the girl next to her and whispered something. They went silent as Gojou passed. He felt eyes stabbing into the back of his head. He was usually used to the attention, but this was a different kind. Around the corner of the hallway, he ran straight into Onitsuka-sensei. Onitsuka Takeshi, the PE teacher. Arms crossed, leaning against the wall. He narrowed his eyes when he saw Gojou's face. "[serious]Gojou. You've been quiet lately." Gojou stopped for a moment. "[cold]……I don't want to hear that from you, sensei." Unusually, he'd answered honestly. Onitsuka-sensei's eyes widened. His eyebrows went up, his mouth half-opened, then his face shifted to "hmm." "[surprised]……That's rare." "[cold]Whatever." Gojou kept walking. His pride was being worn down——he understood that. The story of "Gojou who got rejected" had spread through the whole grade in a week. He used to be the one getting attention, but now he was the one being laughed at. But something was strange. His feelings for Nobuko——that sensation he didn't even understand himself——weren't being worn down. If anything, they were getting bigger. Why couldn't he get the girl who called him the worst out of his head? Why had he silently sat down next to her yesterday? （I don't get it） He tried telling himself that, but it didn't feel right either. Class 3-A's classroom came into view. Beyond the sliding door, the morning chatter echoed. Gojou stopped for a moment and looked at the classroom door. Nobuko was there. Yesterday there had been that quiet time, and today the same classroom, the same day beginning again. He didn't know what had changed. But something felt different from yesterday. Just a little.