In Class 1-3, Aizawa Tomo and Kubota Junichiro are inseparable—and completely oblivious. Tomo's confession last summer was answered with "I like you too, as my best friend," and since then, nothing has changed. At least, not on the surface.
Gundou Misuzu has watched them since kindergarten, and she knows the truth: Tomo's feelings are love, and Junichiro's thick skull is the only thing standing in the way. After witnessing Tomo's failed confession by the riverbank, Misuzu made a silent vow—she
Misuzu Gondo Was Watching - The Thickheaded Guy and the Tomboy Childhood Friend — The Word Left Unsaid, the True Feelings Left Unseen
The air in the classroom still held the last traces of summer.
Third day of September. In the halls of Aoba Academy, the murmur of summer vacation hadn't fully dissolved—it lingered, stubborn, in the corners. Outside the window, the cicadas' cries had grown noticeably fainter than last week. Even so, the sun beat down without mercy, dampening the shirts beneath blazers with a slow, clinging sweat.
Gundou Misuzu stood in the doorway of Class 1-3.
Her black hair, just long enough to brush her shoulders, bounced at the tips whenever she tilted her head. Her narrow, deep-brown eyes had thinned to threads as she watched the two figures inside the classroom. The tear mole beneath her left eye made her expression look just slightly melancholy.
(Ah. They're at it again.)
At the end of Misuzu's gaze, Aizawa Tomo was vigorously smacking Kubota Junichiro on the head.
Tomo's bright brown short hair swayed softly with every movement. Prone to bedhead, it was sticking up a little in the back again today. Her large amber eyes sparkled with something that looked suspiciously like delight despite her anger. Her smile, with its peek of a fang, was closer to the sun than any girl in the room.
"Ow—"
Junichiro clutched his head with exaggerated drama. His black hair was cropped short, morning bedhead still intact. The small scar above his left eyebrow seemed to announce itself as a remnant of some old fight. His dark gray eyes—only when they looked at Tomo—lost their usual quiet color and turned innocent, like a boy's.
"Why're you hitting me, Tomo?"
"Shut up! It's your fault for saying weird stuff!"
"Weird stuff? All I said was, isn't your skirt kinda short? I was asking if you're cold."
"It's September, idiot! How would I be cold!"
Tomo smacked Junichiro's shoulder again. He caught it with his arm, laughing. Between the two of them flowed an atmosphere that hadn't changed since kindergarten. Roughhousing. Tussling. To anyone watching, just close childhood friends.
But Misuzu knew.
Tomo's feelings had never reached Junichiro—not since that summer day.
(Not just zero progress—we're in the negatives. That's not flirting, that's a sibling brawl.)
Misuzu cursed inwardly. She didn't say it aloud. No need. This brand of venom was something that stayed contained inside her head.
But this morning, there was more than just that.
Last night's scene clung to the inside of Misuzu's chest.
The convenience store at the east exit of the station. A corner of the parking lot at night. Junichiro being confessed to by a younger girl named Ogawa. The "I like you" that had drifted through the glass. The sight of Junichiro bowing his head.
(He turned her down. But should I tell Tomo?)
Misuzu looked at Tomo's face inside the classroom. Smacked by Junichiro, laughing, angry—the usual Tomo. What kind of face would this girl make if she heard that Junichiro had been confessed to by someone else?
(...I can't say it.)
Misuzu pressed her lips together. Of course she couldn't. Tomo still liked Junichiro.
"Misuzu—!"
Suddenly, Tomo's voice flew out from inside the classroom. Misuzu's shoulders jerked.
"What're you standing around for? Come in!"
Tomo was waving her hand back and forth. Junichiro was looking at Misuzu too, from beside her.
Misuzu let out a small breath, then stepped into the classroom.
"I was just watching your little morning comedy routine. That's all."
"Comedy routine?!"
"That's exactly what it is. You two do the same thing every morning. Doesn't it get old?"
Misuzu settled into the seat next to Tomo. This was Tomo and Junichiro's class. Misuzu's was next door. But every morning she came to see Tomo's face like this. Somewhere along the line, it had become a habit.
"Old? It never gets old 'cause Junichiro says weird stuff every time!"
"I don't say anything weird."
"You do! Last time, you didn't even notice I got my hair cut!"
"Wait, you cut it?"
Tomo clenched her fist. Misuzu sighed.
"Junichiro. Seriously..."
"What, Misuzu?"
"Did you honestly not notice that Tomo cut her hair at the end of summer break?"
Junichiro blinked blankly at Tomo's head.
"...Now that you mention it, maybe it's a little shorter."
"A little?! I cut five centimeters!"
Tomo smacked Junichiro's shoulder again. He dodged, laughing. Their racket dissolved into the morning air of the classroom.
Watching the scene, Misuzu spat more venom inside her head.
(Five centimeters. Five. When a girl cuts five centimeters off her hair, shouldn't a normal person notice?)
But Junichiro didn't. He was always dull to Tomo's changes.
(...God. This thickheaded idiot.)
Misuzu pretended not to notice that her own cheeks had grown slightly warm.
Junichiro was staring at Tomo's hair. His serious face, bathed in the morning sun, looked unbearably bright.
(Why do you have to go and stir people's hearts like that, without even realizing it?)
Misuzu let her gaze escape out the window.
The ginkgo trees along Aoba Slope were visible in the distance. The leaves were still green. Autumn was a little further off.
***
Lunch break.
Misuzu had been pulled by the hand out to the courtyard by Tomo.
At lunch, Aoba Academy's courtyard bustled with students spreading out their bento boxes. The four benches were always full, and plenty of students sat along the edge of the small flowerbed. Today too, the September sun lit the courtyard brightly.
"So, Misuzu. Something happen?"
The moment she sat down on the bench, Tomo peered into Misuzu's face. Her big amber eyes looked straight at her.
Misuzu played dumb as she opened the bag of bread she'd bought.
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
"Liar."
Tomo leaned in close.
"Misuzu, your right eyebrow goes up when you lie. It's up right now."
Misuzu instinctively touched her right brow.
(...This girl actually pays more attention than I thought.)
Resigned, Misuzu took a bite of her bread. A croquette bun. The morning bestseller from Komugino, the bakery in Minagiha Ginza Shopping Street. The crispy coating and sweet sauce spread across her tongue.
"...Tomo."
"What?"
Misuzu swallowed slowly, then looked into Tomo's eyes.
"You still like Junichiro, don't you."
Tomo's hand stopped dead.
The bag of curry bread she was holding rustled. Her ears turned red, visibly, rapidly.
"W-what're you talking about?! It's not like that!"
Her voice cracked. Watching Tomo's reaction, Misuzu was certain.
(Thought so. She still likes him.)
Tomo shoved the curry bread into her mouth, her gaze darting everywhere.
"I mean, it's not like I—Junichiro is just a childhood friend, and besides, he's dense, and an idiot, and the kind of guy who worries about whether you're cold based on your skirt length..."
"Nobody said all that."
Misuzu smiled wryly.
"Shut up! Anyway, I don't! I don't!"
Face bright red, Tomo started wolfing down her curry bread. Even the tips of her ears were red.
Watching her, Misuzu felt a small ache deep in her chest.
(She's so obvious. Why is Junichiro the only one who can't see it?)
Tomo's clumsy, single-minded devotion was something Misuzu knew better than anyone.
—She remembered that day.
***
Winter of third year of middle school.
A cold wind swept across the Sakami River embankment in December.
Misuzu had been called out by Tomo and headed to the riverbank. She'd assumed it was the three of them hanging out. But when she arrived, only Tomo and Junichiro were there.
Misuzu hid in the shadow of a cherry tree a little ways off and watched the two of them.
The winter cherry tree thrust its bare branches into the sky. Through them, the setting sun cast long shadows across the river's surface.
"Junichiro. I have something to tell you."
Tomo's voice was lower than usual, trembling slightly.
"Yeah, what is it?"
Junichiro looked at Tomo's face with his usual easy manner.
Tomo's fists were clenched tight. Her fingertips had gone white. After a long silence, she said it all at once.
"I like you, Junichiro!"
Misuzu held her breath. Something pounded violently deep in her chest.
Junichiro blinked for a moment, then broke into a huge grin.
"Yeah! I like you too—as my best friend!"
—Tomo's face in that instant.
Misuzu remembered it clearly, even now.
Her big amber eyes froze in an instant. She tried to make a smile and failed. The corners of her lips twitched upward. That wasn't a smile. It was something else, shaped like resignation.
"...Yeah. Best friends. Right."
Tomo said that and lightly tapped Junichiro's chest. The usual extension of their roughhousing. But Misuzu could tell. Tomo's fingertips were trembling.
Misuzu couldn't move from where she stood.
She thought she had to say something. But she didn't know what. Cursing that thickheaded idiot in her heart was the most she could do.
Junichiro put his arm around Tomo's shoulders, laughing.
"From now on too—best friends forever!"
Tomo laughed. Loud and bright, she laughed.
"Yeah! Obviously!"
But that laughter dissolved into the winter wind.
Misuzu just stood there, in the shadow of the cherry tree.
(Why can't you see it?)
She repeated it over and over in her heart.
Anger welled up at Junichiro's density. But more than that—watching Tomo's trembling fingertips, her chest tightened and she felt like crying.
(This girl—she's so, so...)
That was when Misuzu first thought it.
I'll get these two together.
I'll make Tomo's first love come true.
That's my role.
But—deep beneath that resolve, Misuzu had already noticed another feeling.
That when she saw Junichiro's smile, her own chest ached the same way Tomo's did.
(...No. This pain is for Tomo.)
Misuzu told herself that.
She was still telling herself that now.
***
After school.
Misuzu walked down Aoba Slope alone.
The long uphill became light on the feet going down. The shadows of the ginkgo trees stretched in the setting sun, dappling the asphalt. The September wind softly swayed the hem of her blazer.
(No progress again today.)
Misuzu sighed inwardly.
She'd pressed Tomo at lunch, but in the end Tomo insisted it wasn't like that. But her ears had been red. That was proof she'd hit the mark.
(She still likes him, and she's just being stubborn...)
Misuzu stopped midway down the slope.
The Gundou house was partway up Aoba Slope. A quiet residential corner on the way from the station's east exit to the academy. Tomo's house and Junichiro's house were both within a five-minute walk. The three childhood friends' homes were clustered this close together.
(Which is exactly why there's no escaping it.)
Misuzu started walking again.
That was when it happened.
"Hey, Misuzu."
A voice came from behind her.
She turned. Junichiro was jogging to catch up. His black hair swayed in the wind, the scar above his left eyebrow rising to the surface in the sunset light.
"...What is it, Junichiro?"
Misuzu spoke without slowing her pace.
Junichiro fell into step beside her. He was slightly out of breath.
"Misuzu, listen to this for a sec."
"I'm listening. What?"
Junichiro scratched his head. A habit when he was thinking.
"So, last night, this younger girl named Ogawa confessed to me."
Misuzu's feet nearly stopped for an instant.
(...I know.)
But she couldn't say that. Misuzu feigned calm and kept walking.
"Huh. And?"
"I turned her down."
Junichiro's voice was matter-of-fact.
"I told her I can't think about that kind of thing right now. And then Ogawa started crying. I've been wondering if I did something wrong."
Misuzu looked at Junichiro's face.
He looked genuinely troubled. Not a millimeter of ill intent. Just a face honestly agonizing over whether what he'd done was right.
(This guy...)
Deep in her chest, Misuzu felt relief and anger rise at the same time.
Relief. That Junichiro had turned down Ogawa's confession.
Anger. That Junichiro had come to report it to her, of all people.
"...Why are you telling me this?"
She couldn't keep the edge out of her voice.
Junichiro looked blank.
"Why
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