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 Insensitive Guy's Side of the Story — A Ten-Year Misunderstanding Learned from Outside the Circle
No, that's wrong—she thought.
She understood it in her head. There was no way those two's relationship could move forward on its own, somewhere beyond her reach. And yet—why did the depths of her chest ache like this?
Gundou Misuzu stood in the fountain plaza of Minagiha Central Park. The evening air of late September carried almost none of summer's lingering warmth anymore. Only the sound of the fountain echoed, steady and rhythmic, through the quiet square.
(What am I even doing?)
The evening breeze stirred her black hair, cut just long enough to brush her shoulders. Her narrow, deep-brown eyes thinned to threads as she stared at the plaza entrance. The tear mole beneath her left eye seemed, somehow, to cast a shadow of its own.
After school. Misuzu had called Junichiro here.
Ever since the day of that visit, something had been caught in her throat. The look on Junichiro's face when he'd stroked Tomo's head as she lay feverish. And that earnest voice when he'd said to Misuzu: "I never realized Tomo was this slender."
(What have you been thinking about since then?)
Misuzu tilted her head without realizing it—a habit of hers whenever she fixed her gaze on someone.
"Hey, Misuzu!"
At the familiar voice, Misuzu lifted her head.
Kubota Junichiro came walking from the direction of Aoba Slope. His black hair was cropped short, and today his morning bedhead still hadn't been tamed. The small scar above his left eyebrow caught the sunset, rising faintly into relief. His deep gray eyes found her.
"You're late. I've been waiting forever."
Misuzu crossed her arms and glared at him.
"Sorry. The club guys caught me."
Junichiro scratched his head—an unconscious habit whenever he was thinking.
"So why'd you call me out here? So formal all of a sudden."
Misuzu stared at his face. This quiet childhood friend of hers, popular with the girls too, wore an expression completely free of any ill intent.
"...There's something I want to ask you."
She spoke slowly.
"About Tomo—have you actually thought about it? Since the day of that visit?"
Junichiro's eyes widened, just slightly.
"Thought about... what?"
"Hah?"
Misuzu's voice rose before she could stop it.
"Did you forget what I told you? I asked if you'd ever seen Tomo as a girl. It's been over a week since then. I told you to think about it properly, didn't I?"
Junichiro was silent for a while. Only the sound of the fountain flowed between them.
"...I thought about it."
His voice was just a little lower than usual.
"But I still don't get it."
"Don't get what?"
"What it even means—to see Tomo as a girl."
Junichiro looked straight into Misuzu's eyes.
"I've been with Tomo since before I can remember. Before I ever thought about things like boy or girl, Tomo was just Tomo."
Something in Misuzu's chest gave a small, sharp throb at those words.
(Right. You were always that kind of person.)
But she couldn't back down here.
"Then answer me this—when did you first realize Tomo was a girl?"
Junichiro sank into serious thought.
"...When she collapsed with a fever, I guess."
"What?"
"I mean, when Tomo went down with that cold. I thought, oh—she's slender. Because up until then, I'd figured she was a boy."
He said it flatly, without a trace of shame.
Misuzu's jaw dropped and wouldn't close.
(...What did you just say?)
"Hold on. Did you just say you thought Tomo was a boy until middle school?"
"Huh? Yeah, I said that."
"You're serious?"
"Serious as anything. The first time I realized she was a girl was when I saw her in a skirt."
Junichiro tilted his head, genuinely puzzled.
"Hey, Misuzu. Is that really so weird?"
Misuzu was speechless.
No—more precisely, hundreds of words flooded her head at once, and she couldn't decide which to let out first.
(Of course it's weird! You've been together for over ten years, and you didn't notice she was a girl until she wore a skirt?! Are your eyes just for decoration?! Tomo has always—)
She caught herself mid-thought.
Beneath the anger and exasperation, there was—for some reason—a tiny sliver of relief.
(...Relief? Why am I relieved?)
Misuzu shook her head and drove the feeling away.
"Of course it's weird. Are you an idiot?"
She shot back with her usual venom. But her voice trembled, just a little.
"I see... so it really is weird."
Junichiro's shoulders slumped dejectedly.
"But I couldn't help it. Tomo's been going to the same karate dojo as me since elementary school, always doing boyish stuff. And her family's dojo is all men, too."
He scratched his head again.
"Plus, Tomo calls me 'you'—like, blunt. Aren't girls supposed to be more, y'know, cute about it?"
Misuzu heaved a deep sigh.
"...Listen. Tomo only calls you 'you.' With other boys, she properly uses 'kun' or 'san.'"
"Wait, really?"
Junichiro looked genuinely astonished.
"Really. It's because your relationship with Tomo is special. Not noticing that—are you actually an idiot?"
"Calling me an idiot is harsh, isn't it?"
"What's harsh is how dense you are."
She said it crisply.
Junichiro fell silent.
For a while, silence flowed between them. The fountain's murmur seemed unnaturally loud.
"...Hey, Misuzu."
Junichiro spoke quietly.
"What?"
"There was a time in middle school when I tried to put some distance between me and Tomo."
Misuzu looked at his profile. The sunset dyed his outline orange.
"Why?"
"In elementary school, Tomo's backpack always looked so heavy, so I carried it for her. I tied her shoelaces a lot, too. And then everyone around us started teasing—calling us like a married couple."
His eyes seemed to look somewhere far away.
"I was embarrassed. So when middle school started, I tried to keep my distance."
The moment she heard those words, something inside Misuzu snapped.
—An autumn morning in third grade.
The entrance hall of the public elementary school that Aoba Academy had once been—the school Tomo and Junichiro had attended.
Junichiro crouches down, tying Tomo's shoelaces.
"You again—your laces came undone."
"'Cause tying 'em's a pain."
Tomo laughs, shaking her bright brown bob. A sun-bright smile, one fang peeking out.
"See, done. Now you won't trip."
"Thanks, Junichiro!"
Tomo throws her arms around him, beaming with all her face.
Junichiro, looking bashful, taps her lightly on the head.
"...Idiot. You're so dramatic."
Misuzu watched the scene from a little ways off.
Clutching her backpack tight to her chest.
Outside the circle the two of them made.
(What was I thinking back then?)
Misuzu slowly recalled the scene sunk deep in her memory.
(Ah, right. I was thinking—)
(That there's no gap for me between those two.)
(So it's fine if I'm just the observer.)
A memory she'd kept locked in her chest for ten years. A small, but certain pain she'd never told anyone about.
And now, triggered by Junichiro's words, it came rushing back, vivid and sharp.
"...Misuzu?"
Junichiro's voice pulled her back to reality.
"What's wrong? You spaced out."
Misuzu hurriedly composed her expression.
"Listen to you—ten whole years of misunderstanding? Poor Tomo. Get it together already!"
She raised her voice. But it was shaking—clearly enough that even she could tell.
"...Misuzu, are you mad or something?"
Junichiro peered at her face, puzzled.
"Of course I'm mad! At how dense you are!"
She all but shouted it, and tried to storm off.
In that instant, Junichiro's hand caught her wrist.
"Wait."
Her feet stopped.
His hand was hotter than she'd expected.
"...What? Let go."
She said it without turning around.
"It's just—you're always saving me."
His voice reached her back.
"I feel like you understand Tomo better than anyone. Way more than I do."
Deep in Misuzu's chest, something pulsed—a heavy, single beat.
(Stop. Don't say things like that.)
She screamed it inside her heart.
(If you say things like that to me, I'll—)
Misuzu pulled her wrist free, as if shaking him off.
"...Then let me ask you something."
She turned back to face him, looking straight into his eyes.
"Do you intend to go out with Tomo?"
Junichiro's eyes went wide.
For a while, he said nothing.
He was thinking—seriously.
(You're actually thinking about it now, aren't you.)
Misuzu fixed her gaze on his face.
(I remember that look. The face you make when you're thinking seriously about Tomo.)
Junichiro opened his mouth slowly.
"...I don't know."
His voice was low and honest.
"What it even means to go out with someone—I still don't really get it. But—"
He paused, then said it clearly.
"I think Tomo matters to me. That part's true."
Misuzu looked into his eyes.
The gray eyes weren't lying.
(...I know. You didn't have to tell me that.)
She murmured it in her heart.
(That Tomo matters to you—I've known that for ages.)
(But hearing it from your own mouth, it hurts this much...)
Misuzu clenched her fist tight.
"...Then tell her properly."
She said it with a smile.
"Tell Tomo how you feel. If she matters to you, you have to put it into words—otherwise it won't reach her."
Seeing her smile, Junichiro nodded, looking a little reassured.
"...Got it."
"Good. Then I'm heading home."
Misuzu turned her back on him.
Behind the smile, her chest was creaking under the strain.
The two people she'd watched from closest of all were about to connect—somewhere she wasn't.
That should have made her happy.
So why did it hurt this much?
(I know. I know already.)
Misuzu began climbing Aoba Slope.
(My role is to bring those two together. That's all.)
The sunset stretched her shadow long across the ground.
(...That's all. And yet—)
She bit her lip.
At the top of Aoba Slope, Misuzu stopped.
A small park partway up the hill. At its entrance stood two familiar figures.
Tomo—and Junichiro.
It seemed Junichiro had gone to see Tomo right after parting with Misuzu.
"Hey, Tomo."
His voice melted into the twilight air.
"Let's walk the culture festival together."
Misuzu ducked into the shadows.
Her heart was pounding, obnoxiously loud.
(Why do I have to hide?)
She couldn't see Tomo's face well from here. But her voice came through clearly.
"Wha—?! W-why?!"
Tomo's voice cracked.
"Why, nothing. I just thought it'd be fun to go around together."
Junichiro's voice was the same as always.
"I-idiot! The culture festival is something you go to with friends!"
Tomo's embarrassment was plain as day.
"Aren't we friends?"
Junichiro laughed.
"...Shut up. But—well, if you insist that badly, I guess I could go with you."
Tomo's voice softened, just a little.
(...I'm leaving.)
Misuzu walked away.
The air that flowed between those two—air she didn't know.
That was, without a doubt, something beginning to change.
Junichiro had invited Tomo.
And Tomo had answered.
(Good for them. Just as planned.)
Misuzu told herself so, inside her heart.
(Junichiro is finally starting to see Tomo as a girl. Now those two will surely—)
But the ache deep in her chest wouldn't go away.
She stopped by the convenience store near the station.
For a late-night snack, she bought an onigiri and a sweet coffee.
As she stood in line at the register, the young male clerk glanced at her face.
"...Um, are you all right? You look a little pale..."
At his voice, Misuzu startled.
"Hm?"
"I mean, your face is really tense, or rather... are you feeling unwell?"
Misuzu hurriedly put on a smile.
"I'm fine. I was just lost in thought."
She paid and left the store.
(Tense, was I? That bad?)
Using her phone screen as a mirror, Misuzu checked her face.
...It really was a terrible face.
The face of someone desperately holding back tears.
(What am I even doing?)
She put her phone away.
At home, she went into her room.
She took off her uniform and collapsed onto the bed.
She stared up at the ceiling.
Junichiro's voice lingered in her ears.
"I think Tomo matters to me. That part's true."
And Tomo's voice, too.
"If you insist that badly, I guess I could go with you."
Their voices repeated over and over
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