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 - An unattainable "thank you"—the night the observer's love comes crashing down with a sound
That's wrong, she thought.
She understood it in her head. Those two growing closer—that was what she'd wanted. And yet, why did something deep in her chest feel so cold?
Gundou Misuzu sat alone in the classroom after school, gazing out the window. October had arrived, and the sky seemed to have risen a little higher. The ginkgo trees along Aoba Slope swayed in the wind, still green.
"Misuzu."
At the sound of that familiar voice, Misuzu turned around.
Kubota Junichiro stood in front of her desk. His black hair was cropped short, and the small scar above his left eyebrow showed faintly in the sunset light. His deep gray eyes looked straight at her.
"What, all of a sudden?"
Misuzu narrowed her long, deep-brown eyes and looked up at Junichiro. Without meaning to, she'd tilted her head—an old habit.
Junichiro smiled, just a little.
"Misuzu, thanks for always looking out for Tomo."
The moment those words reached her ears—
—The summer of second year of middle school.
The air in the classroom shifted in an instant.
No—that wasn't it. What shifted was the time inside Misuzu.
That day had been after school, too.
The closing ceremony before summer break. The only ones left in the classroom were Misuzu and Junichiro. He'd come back for something he forgot, and they'd happened to end up alone together.
He'd asked her to walk home together, and they'd fallen into step side by side.
Partway down Aoba Slope, Junichiro had said it, out of nowhere.
"Misuzu, thanks for always looking out for Tomo."
The same words as now.
The same smile as now.
Nothing had changed.
Three years later, and Junichiro still saw Misuzu only as "Tomo's friend."
(Of course he does.)
Misuzu told herself this, silently.
(It's what I wanted. For Tomo and Junichiro to work out. That's my goal—)
But somewhere deep in her chest, something creaked.
"...Don't be an idiot."
Misuzu shaped a smile and looked at Junichiro.
"You're the one who needs to get it together. Stop leaving Tomo to me forever."
Junichiro scratched his head.
"Yeah, my bad. I just end up relying on you. You understand everything, Misuzu."
"Of course I do. Unlike you, I actually have observation skills."
With that, Misuzu stood.
"See you. I've got things to do."
"Yeah, see you tomorrow."
Misuzu turned her back on him and left the classroom.
The instant she stepped into the hallway, a sharp pain stabbed through her chest.
(What are you hurting for?)
Misuzu bit her lip.
(I decided I was fine being the observer, didn't I?)
She walked quickly down the hall.
Changed her shoes at the shoe lockers and left through the school gate.
As she descended Aoba Slope, Misuzu replayed Junichiro's words over and over.
"Thanks for always looking out for Tomo."
(Don't "thanks" me.)
(That's not what I want to hear from you.)
(...No. What am I thinking?)
Misuzu shook her head.
She went home and entered her room.
She took off her uniform and collapsed onto the bed.
She stared up at the ceiling.
(It's been the same since that summer in second year.)
(Junichiro only ever sees me as Tomo's friend.)
(Of course he does. Because that's how I've acted.)
Misuzu closed her eyes.
(But why?)
(Why can't I say it?)
She murmured it aloud.
"...Why can't I say it?"
Her own voice was swallowed by the dark room.
Just then, her phone buzzed.
Misuzu reached out and picked it up.
A message from Tomo lit up the screen.
"Misuzu! I'm going around the culture festival with Junichiro!"
Misuzu stared at the screen.
Her fingers wouldn't move.
She just couldn't bring herself to mark it as read.
(I know.)
(I saw it.)
(The two of them talking on Aoba Slope.)
Misuzu held the phone to her chest.
(Junichiro invited Tomo.)
(Tomo nodded, looking so happy.)
(There's no space left for me between those two anymore.)
The words from that summer in second year echoed in her head.
"Misuzu, thanks for always looking out for Tomo."
Junichiro's voice, his smile—they pierced her heart again and again.
("Thanks," he says.)
(I don't want that.)
(I never wanted you to thank me.)
Misuzu pressed her face into her pillow.
"...Idiot."
She whispered it, barely audible.
Her voice was wet with tears.
Several days passed.
The October air grew colder by the day.
After school, Misuzu walked down Aoba Slope alone.
Junichiro and Tomo were probably together somewhere again today.
(Culture festival prep, or any excuse they can find—they're together.)
(In places I don't know about, their time together keeps piling up.)
Misuzu looked up at the ginkgo leaves.
The still-green leaves swayed in the wind.
Soon they'd turn yellow and fall.
(Autumn is deepening.)
Then, a familiar voice came riding on the wind.
"Hey, Tomo."
It was Junichiro's voice.
Misuzu instinctively hid herself behind a shadow.
(Why am I hiding?)
(I don't need to hide.)
But her body wouldn't move.
"Let's go around the culture festival together."
Junichiro's voice came through clearly.
"Wha—!? W-why?!"
Tomo's voice cracked.
"Why, nothing. I just thought it'd be fun to go together."
"Y-you idiot! The culture festival is something you go to with friends!"
It was obvious from her voice that Tomo was flustered.
"Aren't we friends?"
Junichiro laughed.
"...Shut up. But, well, if you insist, I guess I could go with you."
Tomo's voice softened, just a little.
Misuzu watched the two of them from the shadows.
Junichiro lightly tapped Tomo on the head.
Tomo swatted his arm away.
But her face was smiling.
A happy smile, her fang peeking out.
(Ah.)
(There's an atmosphere between those two that I don't know.)
(No matter how close I thought I was, watching all this time.)
(I can't enter it anymore.)
Misuzu quietly left the spot.
Her steps were heavy.
One step, one step—it felt like the ground was pulling at her feet.
(I'm an outsider.)
(I'm not even a character in their story.)
(Always just watching from the audience seats.)
She reached the bottom of Aoba Slope and entered the convenience store by the station.
She'd thought she'd buy something for dinner.
A rice ball and a sweet coffee.
As she stood in line at the register, a young male clerk glanced at her face.
"...Um, are you all right?"
Misuzu snapped to attention and looked up.
"Huh?"
"I mean, your face is really tense... Are you feeling unwell?"
Misuzu touched her own face.
(My face is tense?)
(Do I look like that?)
"I'm fine. I was just thinking about something."
Misuzu made a smile.
But it wasn't a very good one.
The clerk looked at her with concern.
Misuzu paid and tried to leave the store.
In that instant—
Her vision blurred.
(Huh?)
(What is this?)
Tears spilled over.
They wouldn't stop.
"Miss...?"
The clerk's voice rose in surprise.
Misuzu hurriedly wiped her tears.
But no matter how she wiped, they kept coming.
"I-it's nothing. It's just hay fever..."
Misuzu forced the words out.
Hay fever, in October.
Who would believe an excuse like that?
But she didn't know what else to say.
"Um, here, if you'd like."
The clerk held out a tissue.
"...Thank you."
Misuzu took the tissue and left the store.
Clutching the convenience store bag, she sat down on a bench by the station.
The tears wouldn't stop.
(Why am I crying?)
(This is what I wanted.)
(Junichiro becoming aware of Tomo, inviting her out.)
(Everything is going according to my plan.)
(So why—)
Misuzu wiped her tears again and again with the tissue.
A bus crawled slowly around the rotary in front of the station.
The evening sky was stained orange.
(What am I supposed to do now?)
Misuzu looked up at the sky.
The stars blurred through her tears.
They weren't out yet.
That night.
Misuzu lay under the covers, looking at her phone.
Tomo's message still sat there, unread.
"Misuzu! I'm going around the culture festival with Junichiro!"
Misuzu reached out a finger.
But she couldn't mark it as read.
(Tomo is happily reporting this to me.)
(She trusts me more than anyone, tells me everything.)
(And yet I can't be honestly happy for her.)
Misuzu set the phone down.
She stared up at the ceiling.
(The me who keeps meddling.)
(The me who wants to push those two together.)
(But somewhere in my heart, the me who can't give up on Junichiro.)
(There are two of me inside.)
(Which one is the real me?)
Misuzu closed her eyes.
A tear traced down her temple and fell onto the pillow.
"...I don't know."
She whispered it softly.
The next day.
In the classroom, Junichiro came over to Misuzu's desk.
"Misuzu, you got a minute?"
"What?"
Misuzu looked up.
Her eyes, swollen from crying yesterday, were still a little red.
But Junichiro didn't notice.
"About the culture festival—I'm going around with Tomo."
He scratched his head, looking a little embarrassed.
"I thought I should tell you, too."
Misuzu made a smile.
"Oh my, so you finally invited Tomo. About time."
"Well, you told me to think it through properly."
"That's right. If you do what I say, you can't go wrong."
Misuzu looked him straight in the eye.
"Go enjoy the culture festival with Tomo."
She said it with a smile.
Junichiro grinned happily.
"Yeah, thanks!"
With that, he headed back to his own seat.
Misuzu watched his back.
("Thanks," he says.)
(That again.)
(All you ever say to me is thank you.)
After Junichiro disappeared from view, Misuzu stood.
She left the classroom and climbed the stairs.
The door to the rooftop was open again today.
Misuzu stepped out onto the roof.
No one was there.
The wind was blowing.
The October wind was cold, carrying a faint scent of loneliness.
Misuzu gripped the fence and looked up at the sky.
A blue sky.
Clouds drifted slowly by.
"What am I supposed to do now?"
She murmured it aloud.
Her voice dissolved into the wind, reaching no one.
"Misuzu."
Suddenly, a voice came from behind her.
Misuzu turned around.
Carol Olston stood at the rooftop entrance.
Her soft blonde hair swayed in the wind. Her big sky-blue eyes gazed steadily at Misuzu.
"Misuzu, so this is where you were."
Carol walked lightly over to Misuzu's side.
"Carol... why are you here?"
Misuzu hurriedly made a smile.
"It's nothing. I just wanted to feel the wind."
Carol looked at Misuzu's face intently.
Her sky-blue eyes seemed to see straight through to the depths of Misuzu's heart.
(This girl is sharp.)
(She probably sees right through all my lies.)
Misuzu thought so.
But Carol said nothing.
She simply sat down quietly beside Misuzu.
The two of them sat side by side, looking up at the sky.
The wind stirred their hair.
"...Misuzu."
Carol opened her mouth softly.
"What?"
Misuzu answered without turning her head.
Carol paused for a moment, then said:
"The wind feels nice today, doesn't it."
Misuzu glanced at Carol for an instant.
Carol smiled brightly.
(...This girl understands me, and she doesn't ask anything.)
(I know that's her kindness.)
Misuzu let out a small breath.
"...Yeah. It feels nice."
Misuzu looked up at the sky.
A blue sky.
Clouds drifted slowly by.
(What am I supposed to do now?)
She still couldn't find the answer.
But right now, Carol was beside her.
Just that let her breathe, a little.
The wind blew.
The October wind gently stirred Misuzu's black hair.
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