The heavy doors of the Verité courtroom closed before Naruhodou Ryuuichi's eyes. The gallery was already packed. Eighty pairs of eyes bored into his back. The air was just as heavy as the first hearing—no, heavier. "[whispers]It's fine, it's fine…" He told himself. But his fingers trembled as they held his notebook. Last time, he hadn't been able to do anything. His one and only objection had ended in a swing and a miss. But today, for sure— "[excited]Everyone, attention!" Suddenly, a sharp voice rang out from the neighboring bench. Sudou Kyousuke. He pushed up his usual round glasses with a crisp motion and turned his tablet screen toward the gallery. "[excited]A new fact! There is someone in the gallery who has no standing to participate in this trial!" A ripple ran through the courtroom. Naruhodou turned around without thinking. Where Sudou's finger pointed—in the front row of the gallery, a single man sat. Black-rimmed glasses, a rumpled white lab coat, disheveled hair. In his hands, he clutched a large sketchbook. "[sarcastic]I have no standing? That's unexpected, Sudou-kun." The man stood. From the pocket of his lab coat, he produced a folded sheet of paper. Unfolding it, he walked slowly toward the podium. "[serious]Student Council Regulations, Article 17, Supplementary Provision 3. Confirm it for yourself. There is no clause anywhere that explicitly prohibits faculty participation." "[angry]Wha—!" "[gentle]That said, I am Shinonome Seiichirou. Art department instructor. And—" He raised the paper in his hand toward the judge's bench. A formal trial participation request form. "[serious]I assert that I alone can truly understand Mitsurugi-kun's artistic talent." The courtroom exploded. "[surprised]Even a teacher!?" He'd shouted without thinking. His notebook slipped from his hands. He banged his head on the desk trying to catch it. "[laughing]Pfft." One of the jurors snorted. But he couldn't laugh at all. Because with Yatabuki, Houzuki, Sudou, and now a teacher joining in— BANG! "[cold]Silence." From the judge's bench, the Verité gavel rang out. Cold eyes behind silver-rimmed glasses looked down upon the courtroom. "[cold]The request is accepted. Shinonome-sensei, to the bench." Shinonome quietly took his place at the fourth podium. That made five. Naruhodou's throat went bone-dry. --- The first to take the stand was Yatabuki Akane. Today, she carried no photo album. Instead, she held a thick bundle of letters. Her long cinnamon-brown hair swayed softly. "[gentle]These are notes about Micchan, from when he was little." One by one, she read them aloud. Getting lost on an elementary school field trip. Helping backstage at the middle school cultural festival without telling anyone. Building a snowman alone last winter. "[laughing]Oh, I know about that. I saw him." "[gentle]Thirteen years' worth. No one knows more about Micchan than I do." She concluded with a smile. But for just an instant, her eyes caught Naruhodou. (*I won't let you hurt Micchan.*) The words she'd spoken in the library echoed in his head. --- Next, Houzuki Yomi. Without a word, she presented a new envelope to the judge. Her black hair tinged with indigo swayed smoothly. Her crimson eyes, as always, revealed nothing. "[serious]Match records from this past week, eleven games in total. All played between Mitsurugi-senpai and Houzuki-san." The summoned chess club member took the witness stand. "[excited]Senpai played eleven games just last week! And all of them just the two of them! Even after the clubroom lights went out, they kept going…" Houzuki did not utter a single word to the very end. Only, just before returning to her bench, she glanced back at Naruhodou. That expressionless face somehow felt unbearably heavy. (*I am closer to him than you are.*) He felt as though she'd said it. --- Sudou Kyousuke, as always, held up his tablet screen. "[excited]The latest statistical data! Analysis of Mitsurugi-kun's social media reactions, predictive modeling of his interests and preferences, and—" "[angry]Hey, you! Nothing but data!" Yatabuki shouted. But Sudou pushed up his glasses and answered with a straight face. "[serious]Data does not lie the way emotions do. My compatibility rate with Mitsurugi-kun, as of today, is ninety-eight point seven percent." "[disgusted]Honestly…" Yatabuki's shoulders slumped. A burst of laughter rose from the gallery. But Naruhodou's heart grew colder and colder. --- The last to take the stand was Shinonome Seiichirou. He opened his sketchbook. Inside, multiple pencil drawings were affixed—landscapes, still lifes, figures. Every one of them rendered with incredibly delicate lines. "[gentle]These are works Mitsurugi-kun drew in the art room. After school, in an empty classroom, he runs his pencil across the page alone." Shinonome's voice was as calm as a teacher's lecture. "[serious]He doesn't say it himself, but he is unusually sensitive to color, and he will stand transfixed for hours depending on the light. That is why the shadows in this sketch reveal it to be the western sun at exactly 4:23 PM." The courtroom fell utterly silent. "[gentle]As an art teacher, I have never seen a student with such rich sensibility. I alone can truly understand and support his artistic talent." --- Naruhodou's turn came. He opened his notebook. His fingers trembled. He turned the page—it was blank. The notes he'd written earlier had blurred from sweat and become illegible. "[whispers]Huh…" Nothing came. His mind was completely blank. Yatabuki's thirteen years. Houzuki's eleven games. Sudou's ninety-eight point seven percent. Shinonome's 4:23 PM western sun. What he had was—a single game of chess, a conversation at Soraniwa, and beyond that, only fragments of dreams from a past life. (*—Wait.*) Click. Something snapped into place in his head. The instincts of his past-life attorney self. The courtroom clamor receded into the distance, and the scene before him shifted into slow motion. Shinonome Seiichirou. Art department teacher. Alone with Mitsurugi-kun in the art room after school. "[serious]Objection!" He shouted. His index finger touched his temple—a habit when he was thinking. "[serious]Shinonome-sensei's evidence does serve as proof that he understands Mitsurugi-kun's talent." Every gaze in the courtroom converged on Naruhodou. Yatabuki turned around, her face surprised. "[serious]But—in a teacher-student dynamic, can Mitsurugi-kun truly feel that it's an equal relationship?" Shinonome's face went rigid. "[surprised]That's…" A stir ran through the courtroom. Naruhodou's heart pounded obnoxiously loud. Sweat beaded on his palms. (*Can I pull this off?*) "[cold]Naruhodou-kun." Himuro Saya's voice fell coldly. "[cold]I understand your objection. Then—do you have a witness or evidence to prove it?" Naruhodou's mouth stopped. He looked at his hands. Blank pages. Letters blurred by sweat. Nothing. "[whispers]…I don't." Again. His objection had ended in a swing and a miss. --- BANG! The courtroom murmuring had reached its peak. The Verité gavel rang out with force. "[cold]Silence. Everyone, to your seats." Himuro Saya rose. The eyes behind her silver-rimmed glasses gleamed coldly. "[cold]This trial has now heard the arguments of all parties. However—this court recognizes one issue." The courtroom fell silent, as if doused with water. "[cold]Everyone has spoken about the subject, Mitsurugi Reiji. But no one has submitted evidence as to whom the subject himself opens his heart." Yatabuki's expression flickered. Houzuki's cheeks colored faintly. Sudou adjusted his glasses. "[cold]Therefore—this court summons the subject himself as a witness." An uproar. The gallery swayed with murmurs. "[surprised]The subject!?" "[scared]Mitsurugi-sama is coming!?" The doors of the Verité courtroom opened. Light streamed in from the corridor. From within that light, Mitsurugi Reiji entered quietly. His silver-gray hair shimmered under the fluorescent lights. His cool, narrow eyes looked straight ahead. Silence. The eighty people in the gallery fell instantly, utterly quiet. No one breathed. Mitsurugi did not look around at all. Not at Yatabuki, not at Houzuki, not at Sudou, not at Shinonome. His eyes were fixed directly—only on Naruhodou Ryuuichi. "[gentle]…Naruhodou." That voice carried a slightly sweet tone, one he had never used with anyone else. Mitsurugi sat in the witness stand. Naruhodou stood directly across from him. The distance between them was less than five meters. "[gentle]What do you think of me?" Naruhodou's mind went completely blank. He had to say something. Some kind of words— "[scared]J-just…" It rose to his throat. (*Just friends.*) The words he'd repeated so many times. When Mitsurugi had reached out a hand to him on the hill on his first day as a transfer student. When it had been broadcast over the school PA. When Yatabuki-san had pressed him. He'd said it all along. But—now, in front of Mitsurugi— It wouldn't come out. The words stuck to his throat and wouldn't peel away. Mitsurugi's eyes gazed quietly at Naruhodou. Not angry, not sad. Just waiting. "[scared]…Ah…" Only breath escaped. His fingers trembled. His notebook slipped from his hands again. But he couldn't pick it up. His body wouldn't move. "[whispers]Naru-kun…" Yatabuki's small voice reached him from somewhere far away. And still, he couldn't say anything. The back of his eyes burned. His vision blurred, slowly, and then—a single drop. A tear fell onto the podium. "[cold]Counsel, can you respond?" Himuro's voice questioned coldly. Unable to produce a voice, Naruhodou shook his head. BANG. "[cold]Today's hearing is adjourned. The date of the next and final hearing will be announced at a later time." The sound of the gavel echoed heavily. --- People filed out of the courtroom. Yatabuki left, and Houzuki, and Sudou, and Shinonome-sensei. Finally, Mitsurugi rose, glanced once at Naruhodou, and quietly disappeared beyond the doors. The corridor was empty. Naruhodou crouched beneath a window and hugged his knees. "[crying]Ugh… uuh…" The tears wouldn't stop. Back at the podium, he hadn't been able to say anything. Just friends—those simple words had vanished in front of Mitsurugi. Why? "[crying]I just… wanted to be just friends…" The moment he said it, his own voice sounded more like a lie than anything ever had. No. That's not it. "[crying]Because I like… him…" His voice shook. Because he liked him. Because he'd liked him from the very beginning. That was why he couldn't say "just friends." He couldn't lie in front of Mitsurugi-kun. "[crying]I'm such an idiot… Why didn't I realize it until now…" He buried his face in his knees. Tears soaked into his uniform slacks. From the very first time they met on that hill, all along. He'd liked Mitsurugi-kun, but he'd pretended not to notice, made nothing but excuses— This wasn't the time to be gathering evidence. He had to realize his own feelings. With trembling hands, Naruhodou took out his notebook. He opened it. *Things I Know About Mitsurugi-kun* Chess club president. Cool. Has dreams of a past life. Was looking at the cherry tree. Shared a secret with me at Soraniwa. Glanced at me once during class. That was all. It couldn't compare at all—not to Yatabuki's thirteen years, not to Houzuki's forty-seven games, not to Sudou's data, not to Shinonome-sensei's sketches. But. "[whispers]…I don't need evidence." The voice came out naturally. The notes he'd gathered, the memories—none of it mattered. Because what he wanted to say was just one thing. He liked Mitsurugi-kun. He just had to say that. Slowly, Naruhodou tore a page from his notebook. Rip. On the torn paper, the scrawled words: *Chess club president.* Another page. Rip. *Cool but kind. Told me about his dre