The remnants of last night's dream still clung to the edges of his mind. Someone had collapsed. The smell of blood. Screams. He thought he'd called out a name—but whose name it was, he couldn't remember anymore. When he'd woken, his futon was soaked with sweat, and the May morning sun filtered through the curtain gap in pale white light. Hanagaki Takemichi greeted Friday morning that way. ───── The hallway of Kaminari High School flooded with students during the ten-minute breaks between classes. The sound of lockers opening, laughter, someone being scolded loudly somewhere—amid that crowd, Murase-sensei tapped Takemichi's arm gently with his fingertips. "[serious]Hanagaki, got a moment?" At the edge of the hallway. A spot where you could see the cherry blossoms past their peak in the schoolyard through the window. Murase-sensei was thirty-two, tall, and had a habit of always pausing once before speaking. Today was no different. From the length of that pause, Takemichi could guess what the conversation would be about. The teacher spoke quietly, but gently. "[serious]We've been notified by the Kaisei program office that you haven't been to Kitahara Psychosomatic Medicine for two months." The Kaisei program—a social rehabilitation support system implemented by Tokyo after the conclusion of the Tokyo Manji Gang's final conflict. Takemichi had previously attended Kitahara Psychosomatic Medicine, a fifteen-minute walk south from Komatsuhara Town, for monthly free counseling sessions aimed at former gang members. Two months ago, he'd stopped going on his own. "[serious]...I'll think about it." Takemichi's eyes weren't on Murase-sensei's face, but fixed on some point on the hallway wall. The teacher didn't push further. "[gentle]You don't have to force yourself. Just don't carry everything alone, alright?" With that, he walked toward the staff room. His footsteps faded. Takemichi stared at the hallway wall for a while. I'll think about it—those four words had become hollow the moment they left his mouth. There was nothing to think about. He wouldn't go, couldn't go. There was no counselor anywhere, not even a PTSD specialist, who could handle the memories of repeating time loops dozens of times. Takemichi started walking down the hallway. Just before the corner. ────── Ishikawa Hinata had her back pressed against the wall. In the shadow of the corner. A place Takemichi couldn't see. Her light blue eyes traced the hallway ahead—the back of Takemichi as he walked away. She'd heard everything. Kitahara Psychosomatic Medicine. The Kaisei program. Two months. That Takemichi hadn't been going to counseling. That even when prompted by Murase-sensei, he'd brushed it off with a single phrase: I'll think about it. What pierced Hinata's chest wasn't the fact that Takemichi was hurting. She'd known that for a long time already. The hollow eyes she'd seen at Harunoki, the profile at Hibari Park where he was smiling without smiling—she'd known all of it. She'd been waiting. Waiting for Takemichi to tell her himself. To reach out to her. He'd brushed off even the teacher. He hasn't told me anything. Not for so much longer. Hinata gripped the fabric of her uniform skirt tightly in her right hand. People began returning to the hallway. Takemichi's back disappeared into the crowd. Still, Hinata didn't move. She remained with her back pressed against the wall, listening to the sound of her own breathing. Not anger, she thought. Not quite sadness either. Something deeper than that—the sensation of a certainty that "I can't reach him," sinking slowly to the bottom of her chest. Hinata carried that sensation through lunch break and fifth period. ───── After school. When the classroom's noise had faded, Hinata took out her smartphone. She opened the message screen with Takemichi. Her fingers stopped. What should she write? How should she write it so he'd come? No—she was already sick of herself for making those calculations. She just wrote. "Come to the roof." Send. A few seconds later, it showed as read. No reply. But Hinata knew Takemichi would come. After four months together, she understood he was the type who couldn't refuse. She went to the roof first. ───── The roof of Kaminari High School lay beyond the metal stairs on the fourth floor. The lock was broken, and the door would open if you pushed it with your shoulder. Takemichi thought only he knew that fact—but when the door opened, he saw black long hair in front of the fence. Takemichi stopped for just a moment. Hinata was here. This place where he came alone every day. A place no one else knew about. Where he'd bring his notebook, lean against the fence, and gaze at the JR Kaminari Line overpass. Just Hinata standing there changed the air subtly. The word "intrusion" surfaced in his mind, and he immediately dismissed it. That wasn't the right way to think about it. It was just—this was the only place where Takemichi could forget how to arrange his face. The metal door closed behind him. Takemichi approached. Hinata remained facing the fence on the north side. The JR Kaminari Line overpass. The roofs of the residential district. The sky before evening hadn't quite turned orange yet. Then, slowly, she turned toward him. Her light blue eyes looked directly at Takemichi. Not her usual eyes. Eyes with more core to them. Her whole body trembled slightly, but her voice was calm. "[serious]Tell me. Anything at all, just tell me." Takemichi paused for a beat. Something moved in his chest. Before he could process it, his mouth was already moving. As always. As practiced every day. "[serious]I'm fine." He smiled. The same way he'd smiled at Harunoki. With eyes that saw nothing. With only the corners of his mouth raised, a smile that was form alone. Hinata's body went rigid. She stared at that smile. Not at what Takemichi had said. At his face. The face she'd seen once at Harunoki. The face she'd seen at Hibari Park. The face she'd been seeing for months. Something broke inside Hinata. "[crying]Stop that smile!" Her voice spread across the roof. Her fists struck Takemichi's chest. Not hard. But trembling fists that held everything. As she struck, her voice continued. "[crying]That smile when you're not smiling—it hurts me the most! Why! Why won't you tell me! Am I not good enough!?" Tears traced down her jaw. She didn't wipe them. She had no room to wipe them. She just kept striking. Takemichi's chest. Wringing out her voice. Takemichi didn't move. He didn't step back. He didn't raise his arms to defend himself. He just stood there. His body swaying each time her fists landed, accepting it all. He tried to embrace her. His arms wouldn't rise. He didn't know what to do. Was it okay to hold her? To comfort her? To make her stop crying? Hinata's tears belonged to Hinata. He had no right to take them from her—while thinking such things, he stood unable to do anything. Hinata had said that his smile when he wasn't smiling was the most painful thing. Those words pierced somewhere in his body and wouldn't come out. Had he—been hurting Hinata? Quietly. Every day. While pretending not to notice. Hinata's fists stopped. As if the strength had drained away, her arms fell. Her shoulders shook. She was crying silently. Takemichi closed his half-open mouth. Nothing came out. He wanted to apologize. But apologizing alone wouldn't change anything, he felt. He wanted to explain. But Takemichi didn't have the words to explain. "[whispers]...Sorry." He said only that, in a hoarse voice. Then he passed by Hinata's side. He reached for the metal door. He pulled it open. He didn't look back. The door closed. The heavy metallic sound remained on the roof. ───── Hinata was alone. She stood there for a while. Then she walked toward the fence on the north side. She gripped the cold metal of the fence with both hands. She pressed her forehead against the bars. She made no sound. She couldn't. She wept. Below, Komatsuhara Town spread out in the evening. Residential rooftops. Power lines. Beyond them, the JR Kaminari Line overpass. The view Takemichi had been seeing every day from here. The same view that Hinata was seeing now. What kind of feeling did he see it with? Every day. Alone. And he never told me. The 6 p.m. train came. A roar ran across the overpass—that sound that had triggered Takemichi's flashbacks so many times. For Hinata, today was the first time. She didn't know how much that sound had tensed Takemichi's body all this time. Hinata wept, gripping the fence, listening to that sound fade into the distance. She couldn't reach him. Even after coming this far, she couldn't reach him. ───── Even after leaving the school building, Takemichi couldn't bring himself to go straight home. His feet turned toward Hibari Park. He walked through Komatsuhara Town's twilight, passing people. No one looked at Takemichi's face. The smell of fried food drifted from the shopping street. It was just an ordinary evening, like any other. He entered Hibari Park. Two swings swayed in the wind. At this time of evening, there were few people. The streetlights weren't on yet. Three benches sat at equal intervals. Takemichi didn't sit on a bench. He just stood, watching the swings. The chains creaked. He traced the inside of his left wrist with his right thumb. An old burn scar. I'm fine—he'd smiled that way. He recalled that moment again. That smile wasn't one he'd made because he wanted to lie. It was a smile that came because he truly didn't know any other way to arrange his face. An expression he'd kept creating every time he looped through time, every time he saw his friends die, so he wouldn't fall apart. Now it was his only face. He knew he was hurting Hinata. Today, for the first time, he'd faced the fact that he was falling apart beside her. But how could he fix it? He really didn't know what to do. If he'd still had the time leap ability, he could have done it over. He could have discarded the failed timeline and started again. But he didn't have that power anymore. This timeline was all he had left. That Friday when he'd made Hinata cry—it couldn't be undone. I don't know. Takemichi stared at the swings for a while longer, then left the park. He walked toward home. Komatsuhara Town's twilight sank quietly into darkness. ───── During the closing ceremony on Friday afternoon. In Class 2-3. While students prepared to leave, half-chattering, Murase-sensei added one more thing. "[serious]A transfer student will arrive next Monday. In Class 2-3." The class stirred. "Who?" "Boy or girl?" "Where from?" Takemichi looked out the window. "[serious]The seat will be the last one by the window—next to Hanagaki." Next to him. The seat that had always been empty. A seat that existed like transparent air. Takemichi didn't turn to look at it. The teacher's voice continued, but it didn't reach his ears. Hinata's voice still lingered in the back of his mind. That smile when you're not smiling—it hurts me the most. Monday, someone would sit next to him. What that meant, Takemichi still didn't understand. But one thing was clear to him now: the crack that had formed between him and Hinata would remain unrepaired as the week began. The closing ceremony ended. The sound of students pulling back their desks and standing filled the room. Takemichi stood last, picking up his bag. He went into the hallway. The empty desk beside his came into view at the edge of his vision. Two more days until Monday.