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 - Finally, you stupid couple — my last selfish wish as I watch over you
No, she thought.
She understood it in her head. Today was the day those two would finally reach the starting line they'd been circling for ten years. She had orchestrated it. Everything was proceeding exactly according to her plan. And yet — why did something deep in her chest ache so quietly?
Gundou Misuzu walked briskly along the covered walkway behind the school building, a little removed from the festival clamor. The late-October sky was impossibly blue, high, and clear. The ginkgo trees on Aobazaka had lost most of their leaves to yesterday's wind, leaving a golden carpet that stretched all the way to the school gate.
(The day of the culture festival, huh.)
From the school building of Aoba Academy, a jumble of sounds drifted out — students hawking goods from their classroom stalls, the light music club tuning up, the drama club running lines. The smell of yakisoba sauce and cloying crepes hung like haze in the crisp October air.
Misuzu adjusted the paper bag in her arms. Inside were mineral water and a small chocolate bar she'd bought at the convenience store by the station last night.
(Tomo and Junichiro are the only ones who need to be nervous.)
(I'm just an observer.)
She repeated it to herself. But her fingertips were just slightly cold.
"Misuzu!"
A clear voice came flying from behind her.
She turned. Aizawa Tomo was sprinting toward her at full speed, her light brown bob swinging wildly in the October wind. Her big amber eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and her snaggletooth peeked out with her grin.
"Tomo. What are you running for? You're going to trip."
Misuzu narrowed her long, deep-brown eyes and looked at Tomo, her head tilting unconsciously — a habit. The beauty mark beneath her left eye cast a tiny shadow in the morning light.
"Because you're slow, Misuzu! I've been waiting forever!"
Tomo fell into step beside her, shoulders heaving as she laughed.
"Waiting? Shouldn't you be getting your own class ready?"
"That's the thing — it's been chaos since this morning... but never mind that, Misuzu! You remember our promise today, right?!"
Tomo peered into Misuzu's eyes with a serious face.
"Of course I do. You think I'd miss your big moment?"
Misuzu let a smile play at her lips and patted Tomo's shoulder.
"All right! Then the gym later, okay! You'd better watch from the very front row!"
Tomo happily grabbed Misuzu's hand. Her hand was cold from the October air, but something hot seemed to radiate from its core.
"Yes, yes. I got it."
Misuzu squeezed back.
(The time has come to let go of this hand.)
(...No. This hand was never mine to begin with.)
Tomo released her and took off running again.
"See you later, then! I've gotta go change!"
"Mm. Do your best."
Misuzu called after Tomo's retreating back.
Tomo didn't turn around — just waved her hand wide. Her figure was swallowed up by the school building.
Misuzu stood watching until she couldn't see her anymore.
(Tomo's big moment.)
(The day Junichiro finally sees Tomo as a girl.)
Misuzu looked up at the sky.
A blue sky.
A cloudless blue sky.
The day of the culture festival was always sunny like this.
Misuzu let out a small breath and started walking.
A ginkgo leaf crunched softly underfoot.
(My role will be over soon.)
Her footsteps were just a little lighter than usual.
...
The girls' changing room behind the gymnasium.
Since it was being used for festival preparations, today it served as the waiting room for the cross-dressing contest entrants.
When Misuzu opened the door, she found colorful dresses, wigs, and makeup tools crammed into every corner. The air was thick with a mix of antiperspirant spray and cheap perfume.
"Misuzu!"
Tomo's voice came from the back.
Misuzu walked toward the voice, and there stood Tomo — in a dress.
A white lace dress.
Her shoulders and arms were bare. The skirt flared softly, its hem just barely brushing the floor.
Her light brown bob was gathered into a small bun at the back, adorned with a white flower ornament. Her makeup was light, and her lips carried just a hint of sakura-pink gloss.
Her big amber eyes gazed at Misuzu anxiously.
Misuzu lost her words for a moment.
(...What is this?)
(Was Tomo always this cute?)
Her heart gave a heavy thud.
"...H-hey, Misuzu. Do I look weird?"
Tomo clutched the hem of her skirt tightly. The small old scar on the back of her hand stood out starkly against the white dress.
Misuzu took a deep breath and put on a smile.
"Well, well. It actually suits you. I never would've imagined it, given how much of a tomboy you usually are."
"Shut up! I'm a girl too, you know!"
Tomo's face went bright red as she shouted.
"Oh, really? First I've heard of it."
Misuzu tilted her head with exaggerated surprise.
"Misuzu, you little—!"
Tomo clenched her fists and tried to lunge at Misuzu, but nearly stepped on her hem and stopped herself in a panic.
"...See? If you're going to move, hold your skirt properly. You'll ruin all that effort."
Misuzu gently lifted the hem of Tomo's skirt for her.
"...Thanks."
Tomo murmured her thanks.
Misuzu looked up at Tomo's face.
(What must she be feeling right now, wearing this dress?)
(She wants Junichiro to think she's cute.)
(She wants him to see her as a girl.)
(With that single-minded wish, she's wearing something she'd never normally put on.)
Misuzu patted Tomo's back.
"You're fine. You're cute. So hold your head high and get up on that stage."
Tomo looked startled for a moment, then smiled shyly.
"...You actually say decent things sometimes."
"Oh, be quiet. I only ever say decent things."
Misuzu pushed Tomo's back again, firmly.
"Now go. This is your big moment."
Tomo nodded once and stepped into the dark corridor leading to the stage.
Misuzu watched her go.
(Go, Tomo.)
(Make sure your feelings reach him.)
From the far end of the corridor, the MC's voice drifted faintly.
"Entry number seven — first-year class three, Aizawa Tomo!"
The venue erupted in laughter and cheers.
Misuzu quietly left the waiting room.
...
The gymnasium was packed with heat and energy.
The cross-dressing contest was apparently one of the festival's flagship events — the place was crammed with students and visitors. On stage, spotlights swept across boys in colorful dresses, one after another.
Misuzu leaned against the wall at the back of the audience and watched the stage.
(Where's Junichiro?)
She narrowed her long eyes and slowly scanned the venue.
(Is he actually here?)
(I told him so many times yesterday to come.)
Just then, her gaze stopped at the very front edge of the audience.
Kubota Junichiro was standing there.
His black hair was cropped short, and the small scar above his left eyebrow was faintly visible in the spotlight's glow. His dark gray eyes were staring vaguely at the stage.
(There he is.)
Misuzu pushed through the crowd toward him.
"Junichiro."
When she called out, Junichiro turned slowly.
"Misuzu. ...You came too."
"Of course I did. And you actually showed up. I'm impressed."
Misuzu grabbed Junichiro's arm and pulled.
"Hey, Misuzu, what're you doing?"
Junichiro looked at her, bewildered.
"Just be quiet and come with me."
She dragged him by the arm all the way to the very front row.
"W-wait, Misuzu! We're watching from here?!"
Junichiro glanced around nervously.
"Obviously. Were you planning to watch Tomo's big moment from the very back? Don't be an idiot."
She planted him directly in front of the stage.
"...I mean, but this is the front row. It's embarrassing."
Junichiro scratched his head.
"What are you even saying? You're the one who's embarrassed? ...Just be quiet and watch the stage."
Misuzu stood beside him and looked at the stage.
(Now everything's in place.)
(All that's left is for Tomo to come out.)
Her heart began to beat a little faster.
"Entry number seven — Aizawa Tomo, entering now!"
The MC's voice rang through the venue.
From the wings, Tomo walked out slowly.
A white lace dress.
The spotlight bathed her whole body in soft light.
The venue stirred.
"Wait, is that Aizawa?"
"No way, isn't she super cute?"
"For real? That Tomo?"
Voices of surprise rose from all around.
Misuzu glanced at Junichiro's profile.
He was staring fixedly at Tomo on stage.
His expression froze in an instant.
(...He froze.)
(Junichiro froze.)
Misuzu stared at his face.
From his neck upward, Junichiro's face was slowly turning red.
(...He's blushing.)
(Junichiro is blushing, looking at Tomo.)
Something inside Misuzu's chest gave a small pop.
(Finally.)
(You finally see Tomo as a girl.)
At that moment, Tomo's eyes on stage locked with Junichiro's.
Tomo's eyes flew wide in surprise.
Then her face went bright red.
"W-what are you looking at?!"
Tomo shouted at Junichiro from the stage.
The venue roared.
"Aizawa's really giving us a show!"
The MC laughed and covered for her.
But Junichiro never took his eyes off Tomo.
His lips slowly parted.
"...Cute."
His small murmur reached Misuzu's ears clearly.
(...What did he just say?)
(Cute?)
(Junichiro just called Tomo cute?)
Misuzu looked at his face.
Junichiro seemed more surprised than anyone by the words that had left his own mouth.
"...Huh, what did I just—"
He clapped a hand over his mouth.
"You said it. You just said it clearly — 'cute.'"
Misuzu shoved his back hard.
"Now's your only chance! Go!"
"W-wait, go where—"
Junichiro looked at her in confusion.
"Up on stage, obviously! Isn't there something you want to tell Tomo?!"
She pushed his back with all her might.
Stumbling, Junichiro's feet carried him toward the stairs leading to the stage.
"Hey, Misuzu! I haven't even—"
He turned back to look at her.
"Don't 'haven't even' me. You just thought Tomo was cute, didn't you? That's your answer."
Misuzu looked him straight in the eye.
"Tell Tomo how you feel. Properly."
Junichiro stared at her for a moment.
Then he nodded.
He climbed the stairs to the stage, one step at a time.
The venue began to murmur.
"Wait, Kubota? What's he doing?"
"Is he actually going up on stage?"
On stage, Tomo had gone rigid at the sight of him.
Junichiro walked until he stood right in front of her.
Only a few inches between them.
The spotlight lit them both in pure white.
The entire venue held its breath.
Misuzu watched from the front row.
(Junichiro.)
(You can do this.)
(I know you're dense, but when it counts, you're the kind of guy who comes through.)
Junichiro took a deep breath.
Then, looking straight into Tomo's eyes, he said it.
"Tomo. I like you."
His voice was quiet, but it carried clearly through the entire venue.
For a moment, the gymnasium went completely silent.
Tomo stared at his face.
Her big amber eyes filled with tears, moment by moment.
"...What did you just say?"
Her voice was trembling.
"I like you. I like you, Tomo."
He said it again, clearly.
Tears spilled from Tomo's eyes, one after another.
"...You're too late!"
Crying, she flung herself at him.
"How long were you going to make me wait?! Idiot! Blockhead! Massive idiot!"
She buried her face in his chest and sobbed.
Junichiro's hands hovered uncertainly for a moment.
Then, hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her back.
"...Sorry."
He apologized quietly.
"Shut up! You really are too slow!"
Tomo shouted, soaking his chest with tears.
But her arms were clinging tightly to his back.
The venue exploded.
"WOOOOOOO!"
"THEY DID IT!"
"CONGRATULATIONS!"
Applause, cheers, and whistles thundered through the gymnasium.
Misuzu watched the two of them embrace from the front row.
(...Finally.)
Her lips slowly curved into a smile.
"...Finally, you stupid couple."
She murmured it softly.
But her voice was drowned out by the cheers and reached no one.
Her eyes grew hot.
(Huh, why?)
(Why am I crying?)
Misuzu hurriedly wiped her eyes with her fingers.
But the tears wouldn't stop.
(Silly me.)
(These are h
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