Yesterday's words won't leave my head. "You should be happy I like you." I said it myself, and I couldn't even believe it. Asleep or awake, those words keep looping in the back of my ears. Nobuko's face was on the verge of breaking down in tears. The sound of a chair falling. Footsteps fading away. Gojou Satoru changed his shoes at the school entrance and sighed. The moment he stepped into the hallway, he knew. The air was different. A group of girls passing by the front of Class 3-A went silent the instant they saw Gojou's face. Not deliberately loud—completely silent. That's what cut like a blade. "[whispers]……Hey, that's…" Someone whispered to someone else. Gojou opened the classroom door without saying anything. It was the same classroom as always. Morning sunlight streamed through the window, and the Harukaze Festival poster beside the blackboard reflected the light. Thirty-two seats. Haunted house props were stacked in the back locker. A cactus sat on top of the locker. And Nobuko's seat was empty. The last row by the window, one seat over toward the hallway. The chair was tucked perfectly under the desk. There was no trace that someone had sat there until yesterday. Gojou sat in his own seat. The boys around him only glanced with their eyes. They didn't speak to him. The red-haired guy who usually called out in the morning kept staring out the window. The morning homeroom chime rang. Homeroom teacher Asahina-sensei started taking attendance. A calm voice, like a Japanese language teacher. Calling names in order. "Kugisaki Nobuko." There was a pause. "……Absent." The teacher's gaze turned toward Gojou for just a moment. One second. Then it went right back to the attendance book. That one second felt like a minute. --- Lunch break. The school cafeteria "Kazeno-ma" fills all 120 seats after noon. When Gojou walked in with his tray, there were a few empty seats visible. "Is this seat okay?" "[serious]……Sorry, a friend's coming." He moved. Another table. "[whispers]Oh, this one's a little……" He trailed off and looked away. Gojou made a full loop around the 120-seat cafeteria. All familiar faces. Nobody said anything. But nobody said "please, sit down" either. (I get it.) He bought just one bread roll from the school store. The chocolate cream one. He didn't even like it, but his hand reached for it anyway. He headed for the roof. The rusty lock turned smoothly like always. He pushed the door open, and the Kasumigaoka air hit his face. Late September wind, a little dry. Two plastic benches sat in the shadow of the water tank. Gojou sat there. Beyond the fence, he could see toward Minami-Harukaze Station. The roofs of the shopping street stretched out, and beyond that the residential area continued. On clear days you could see far. Today there were more clouds. (Where is he right now?) He wasn't trying to think about it. But he was. Someone had said his grandmother's house was a 12-minute walk from the station. Deliberately overheard information. Past the Minami-Harukaze shopping street, into the residential area. Was he eating at his grandmother's house right now? He was worried. Not jealous, not frustrated—just simple worry. Gojou realized that feeling existed in his chest. But he had no idea what to do about it. He put the chocolate cream bread in his mouth. Too sweet. Then he heard footsteps from the stairwell. The door opened. A blonde head appeared. It was Itadori Itadori. Two meat buns in both hands. Probably bought from the Every-Mart on Harukaze shopping street. The winter-limited 130-yen ones were already on sale? "[surprised]……Satoru?" "[cold]Why'd you come?" "[serious]Just felt like it." That's a lie, Gojou thought. But he didn't say anything. Itadori sat on the other bench, three benches away from Gojou. He opened the meat bun bag. White steam rose. Silence. Itadori bit into the meat bun. It sounded delicious. (I care about Nobuko-chan more than he does—that's what he said yesterday.) Something grated inside Gojou. Like a fact he didn't want to admit. The look on Itadori's face when he carried the cardboard box for Nobuko. The look on Nobuko's face when she laughed. That laugh, out loud—a face she'd never shown in front of him. "[cold]Do you like Nobuko?" He asked directly. Itadori paused a little. Meat bun in hand. "[serious]……Like, I guess?" There was a gap. "[serious]I just can't leave her alone, you know? I heard she was isolated at her old school too. And then you said that thing." "[cold]That thing." "[serious]You said it yourself. You should be happy I like you." Words wouldn't come. --- Fifth period ended. Students poured out into the third-floor hallway. In the five-minute break, they spilled from the classrooms. Voices overlapped in a buzz. "[cold]Gojou." He turned around. Itadori was standing in the middle of the hallway. Not smiling. That was rare. He was always smiling. That face was now looking straight at him. "[serious]Have you ever actually thought about how Nobuko-chan feels?" Gojou's feet stopped. "[sarcastic]What would you know?" "[serious]I'm serious about——" "[angry]I care about Nobuko-chan way more than you do." Something snapped. Something in his head broke. His hand moved. He grabbed Itadori's collar. "[angry]What?" Itadori grabbed back. 180 centimeters, 72-kilogram grip strength. He couldn't pull away. Slammed against the hallway wall. He could feel other students gathering. Someone said "this is bad." Someone stepped back. "[angry]If you like her, fine, like her all you want. But don't you decide how I feel about Nobuko!" "[angry]I'm not in a position to say selfish stuff either. But yesterday you were the worst!!" That was true. Because he knew it was true, it made him angrier. The two of them collided side-by-side against the hallway wall, and a nearby girl let out a "kyaa!" and ran away. "[angry]Oi!!!" A voice like thunder came from down the hallway. PE teacher Onitsuka Takeshi. Arms crossed, walking with long strides. Former high school baseball player build, voice that echoes when he's angry—echoing through the entire hallway right now. Onitsuka-sensei's hand came between Gojou and Itadori. Literally pulling them apart. "[angry]Class 3-A! Gojou and Itadori! What are you doing in the hallway!!" The students watching scattered like spiders. The hallway went silent in an instant. Gojou and Itadori were still glaring at each other. Onitsuka-sensei looked at both their faces alternately. "[serious]……If you two are gonna fight, go behind the gym——" He paused for a second. "[angry]No, don't fight at all!! What am I saying!!" The teacher put his hand to his forehead. Gojou and Itadori were still glaring. Onitsuka-sensei raised his voice even louder. It echoed to the end of the hallway. "[angry]Come to the guidance office after school!! Both of you! Three days of reflection essays!!" --- After school. The guidance office table was long. Gojou and Itadori were seated at opposite ends. They both kept their heads down, running their pens across paper, not wanting to face each other across the table. One A4 sheet of reflection essay paper each. Just written: "Write about why you committed violence in the hallway and your reflection on it." The window outside began to turn sunset orange. Orange light streamed into the room. Onitsuka-sensei said "wait a bit" and left the room. Silence. Gojou looked toward Itadori once. Itadori didn't look up. He kept writing. That profile had no smile. No usual "it'll work out somehow." Gojou looked back. He stared at the reflection essay paper. His own handwriting lined the page. "The behavior in the hallway violates school rules and——" It was a fake essay. All of it. Gojou put down his pen. He stood up. Itadori glanced up for a moment, then looked back down. Gojou left the guidance office and headed for the Class 3-A classroom. --- The classroom was quiet in the sunset. The lights were off. Orange light stained every desk. Nobody was there. Only his footsteps echoed. Gojou walked to the locker in the back. He looked up. The cactus was there. Nobody knew who brought it, or when it got there. It had been sitting there since the day she transferred—that cactus. Green and lush, standing there with an innocent face in the sunset. Nobuko's words came back from the depths of his ears. ——A cactus is just strong against dryness. If you don't water it, it dies. Gojou stared at the cactus for a while. That wasn't all. What Nobuko said wasn't just about the cactus, he thought now. But back then, he'd let it slide. He hadn't watered the cactus even once since then. (Have I ever watered anyone?) He thought of his father. The 11th floor of a 14-story apartment building. Businesslike LINE messages from his father, who was often away for work. "Did you eat?" "Lock the door." That's all. Gojou sent back equally short replies. "Yeah." "Locked it." All their conversations were like that. He remembered the underclassman girl too. Last month, or the month before—the girl who confessed to him. What did he say to her? "I respect your courage," he'd said, and she cried. He really didn't understand why she cried back then. And yesterday. "I like you." He'd said it. He'd said the truth. But the next moment, he'd said "You should be happy I like you." Why had he said it? Gojou was thinking about it properly for the first time now. Because he was scared. If he'd just said "I like you" and stayed silent, he wouldn't have known what Nobuko would say back. She might have rejected him. So he said something extra. With "You should be happy I like you," he tried to escape before getting hurt. It wasn't courage. Not courage at all. It was running away. A single tear fell from Gojou's eyes. If it had been on the reflection essay paper, it would have smudged. But this was the classroom. The tear made a small stain on the desk. Gojou touched that stain with his finger. It was warm. The cactus stood unchanged in the sunset. He didn't even know if it had enough water. Four days until the culture festival. Nobuko wasn't coming. He wasn't speaking to Itadori. The reflection essays would continue for three days. Gojou hadn't found a single way to apologize, or how to confess again.