Every morning the same morning comes. So I will keep protecting the one who loves you most.
Haruto lives in an ordinary provincial city, enjoying a peaceful high school life. Clear skies, the same classroom, the unchanging smiles of friends. Every morning his little sister Hina jumps into his bed, his childhood friend Mao greets him with a smile, and his junior Hinata waits for him at the shoe lockers. Haruto has no idea why he's so popular. He just accepts the gentle days as they come.
Then a transfer student named Tsukasa appears. She's a tsundere—always putting up a tough front, ye
Every morning the same morning comes. So I will keep protecting the one who loves you most. - Rewinding Friday — Tears for the One Who Isn't There
That's wrong, he thought.
He understood it in his head. No — he'd thought he understood. Yesterday, Mao had vanished. From the classroom, from the class roster, from everyone's memories, from the world. That was reality, not a dream or anything else — and Haruto knew it painfully well. And yet, what was this feeling he had this morning?
(Something's wrong.)
Haruto closed his eyes. On the back of his eyelids, the scene from yesterday's classroom floated up. Mao's desk had disappeared, as if it had never been there from the start. Everyone had been looking at Haruto with puzzled faces. Only Tsukasa had looked on the verge of tears, repeating "I'm sorry" over and over.
(Hinata. It's Hinata.)
He tried telling himself that. But the words rang hollow in his chest. What about Hinata? What was he so anxious about on the morning after Mao had disappeared? He couldn't explain it himself. And yet, something stirred deep in his chest, and he couldn't settle down no matter what.
It was Friday morning.
The light filtering through the gap in the curtains looked whiter than usual. Haruto lay on his bed for a while, staring at the ceiling. His body felt heavy as lead. Yesterday's exhaustion seemed to have soaked into the very core of his bones.
"Big brother, it's morning!"
Hinata's voice came from beyond the door. His little sister, a second-year middle schooler, came to wake him at the same time every morning. That voice — yesterday, the day before, and surely tomorrow too — would never change. Haruto slowly sat up.
"I'm awake."
His voice was a little hoarse. It was his own voice, yet it sounded like it was coming from far away.
Hinata opened the door and peeked in. Her short black hair bounced, catching the morning light. She looked at Haruto's face and furrowed her brow for just a moment.
"...Didn't sleep? Your face looks terrible."
"A little."
Haruto gave a vague smile. Hinata didn't press further, and just like always, she called out in her cheerful voice, "Breakfast's ready," before heading downstairs.
Haruto went to the washroom and looked in the mirror.
The face reflected there was indeed a mess. Faint dark circles under his eyes, lips dry and pale. It was because he hadn't slept a wink last night. When he thought about Mao, it felt like even sleeping wasn't permitted.
(And Hinata, too.)
Haruto turned the faucet and washed his face with cold water. The chill forced his hazy mind awake. Wiping his face with a towel, he looked in the mirror once more.
(Why am I thinking about Hinata?)
He didn't understand it himself. What did Hinata have to do with Mao disappearing? There was no basis for it. But from the moment he'd woken up, it had been nagging at him. A small thorn stuck deep in his heart, and it wouldn't come out.
When he went down to the living room, Hinata had finished preparing breakfast. On the table were rice, miso soup, tamagoyaki, and yesterday's leftover simmered dish. Only in front of Haruto's seat were chopsticks and a rice bowl neatly arranged.
"You're going early today, right?"
Hinata said, sipping her miso soup.
"Huh?"
"I just figured you'd leave earlier than usual. You always go early on Fridays, big brother."
Haruto stopped his chopsticks.
(Fridays, I go early.)
That's right. On Friday mornings, he always left the house early. There was only one reason.
"...Because Hinata's waiting for me."
The moment those words left his mouth, something tightened deep in Haruto's chest.
Hinata. A first-year. His kouhai. Every morning, she waited for him in front of the shoe lockers. She always took his indoor shoes out for him ahead of time. She secretly handed him small handwritten notes. On those notes were trivial little words. "Do your best today too." "I want to eat lunch together." "I was happy when you smiled yesterday, senpai." — Just those kinds of truly insignificant words.
(Hinata will come today too.)
Haruto set down his chopsticks.
"Big brother?"
"I'm going ahead."
Haruto stood up and grabbed his bag. Hinata looked like she wanted to say something, but he couldn't afford to care. He put on his shoes at the entrance and threw the door open with force. The outside air touched his skin, cold.
Haruto ran.
The distance from home to Tokiwa High School was about a twenty-minute walk. Through the path along the Kiriha River embankment, through the back alleys of the shopping district, up the hill through the residential area. Haruto ran through his usual route, out of breath.
(Hinata's waiting.)
That thought alone moved Haruto's legs.
By the time he reached the school gate, his breathing was completely ragged. Panting, he headed for the shoe lockers. The morning school building was still quiet, and there was no one in the hallways.
He stood in front of the shoe lockers.
No one was there.
Haruto stood frozen in place.
(Hinata's not here.)
There was no one in front of the shoe lockers. Normally, Hinata would be waiting here. With a smile, both hands clasped behind her back, looking a little embarrassed. When she spotted Haruto coming, her face would light up and she'd trot over to him.
That wasn't there.
Haruto opened the door of his shoe locker to take out his indoor shoes.
His indoor shoes were there.
But something was different. Hinata always took them out for him every morning. On top of those shoes, a handwritten note would be placed. That wasn't there.
Just his own indoor shoes, placed carelessly.
(What happened to Hinata?)
While changing into his indoor shoes, Haruto repeated the same thing over and over in his head. Maybe she caught a cold. Maybe she overslept. Maybe a family matter. There were any number of possible reasons.
(But.)
The day after Mao disappeared, Hinata didn't come.
He couldn't bring himself to think that was just a coincidence.
He headed for the classroom. Walking down the second-floor hallway, he stood in front of Class 2-C. Haruto took a deep breath and opened the door.
There were only a few people in the classroom. By the window, a few classmates were talking in low voices. No one noticed when Haruto came in.
Haruto sat at his desk and hung his bag on the side. Then he gazed vaguely toward the back of the classroom — toward the first floor, where the first-year classrooms were.
(Hinata's classroom is on the first floor...)
Haruto tried to trace his memory. Where was Hinata's classroom? What class number was she in?
(I don't know.)
He was stunned. He couldn't remember what class number Hinata's classroom was. No — it wasn't that he couldn't remember. It felt like he'd never known from the start. How much did he actually know about Hinata?
(Because she always waited at the shoe lockers.)
He'd never once gone to her classroom. What class Hinata was in, what friends she was with — Haruto knew nothing.
"Haruto, morning."
A voice made him look up. A male classmate greeted him with a sleepy face. Haruto raised a hand lightly in response.
(Right, let me ask.)
Haruto called out to a nearby classmate.
"Hey, can I ask you something?"
"Hm? What?"
"Did you see a girl named Hinata today? A first-year."
Classmate A tilted his head.
"Hinata?"
"Yeah. A first-year, Hinata. The girl who's always waiting at the shoe lockers."
Classmate A looked even more puzzled.
"...Who's that?"
Haruto's breath stopped.
"Who? Hinata. The first-year."
"No, I don't know her. Was there ever a girl with that name at our school?"
Haruto was speechless.
(You don't know? You don't know Hinata?)
"You've been weird since yesterday. You okay?"
Classmate A looked genuinely worried, peering into Haruto's face.
"...Yeah, sorry. It's nothing."
Haruto answered in a hoarse voice.
Classmate A still looked worried, but said nothing more and returned to his seat.
Haruto slumped over his desk.
(Again.)
It was the same as yesterday. Exactly the same as when Mao disappeared. No one knew about Hinata. They didn't even recognize her name.
(Hinata disappeared too?)
Deep in Haruto's chest, he felt something crumbling with a sound. Following Mao, now Hinata. The world was stealing the people precious to him, one by one, from around him.
(Why do only I remember?)
Haruto bit his lip. The taste of iron spread in his mouth.
Lunch break.
Haruto sat at his desk in the classroom, gazing vaguely out the window. The sky spread in a clear blue, as if the whitish morning had been a lie. A perfect clear sky without a single cloud.
(Hinata's not here.)
The entire morning's classes had gone in one ear and out the other. The teacher's voice, the classmates' chatter — it all sounded like distant noise. His head was filled with nothing but Hinata.
Hinata's smile. Hinata's voice. The handwritten notes Hinata had held out to him.
"Senpai, good morning!"
That usual, cheerful voice.
"Let's do our best today too!"
That innocent smile.
"Um, here... please read this."
A small slip of paper, held out with a slightly embarrassed look.
(I threw away all those notes, didn't I.)
Haruto suddenly thought that. The notes he'd received from Hinata — he'd read them on the spot and always kept them in his pocket. His mother might have thrown them away during laundry.
(Not a single one left.)
There was no proof that Hinata had ever existed.
"Haruto-kun."
Suddenly, someone called out to him. He looked up to see a female classmate who had been Mao's best friend, standing there with a worried face.
"...Yeah."
"Are you okay? You've looked really pale since yesterday."
She crouched in front of Haruto's desk and peered into his face.
"Thanks. I just didn't get enough sleep."
Haruto gave a vague smile.
"Don't push yourself. ...Hey, Haruto-kun."
"What?"
"I thought this yesterday too, but something's off about you. You look like you're searching for someone, all the time."
Haruto couldn't say anything.
"If you want, I can listen to what's going on?"
Her kindness only felt painful right now. Even if he told her, there was no way she'd believe him. About Mao, about Hinata — about people who had vanished from the world. Who would believe that?
"Thanks. But I'm fine."
That was all Haruto could manage to say.
After school.
Haruto had come alone to the Kiriha River embankment.
(The place where Hinata, Mao, and I played together.)
When they were little, Haruto, Mao, and Hinata used to play on this embankment all the time. Hinata was still small, Mao looked after her, and Haruto walked slowly behind the two of them.
(Hinata used to sing.)
Hinata often hummed. Haruto remembered the melody. He didn't know the title. But whenever Hinata sang it, he always felt happy.
Walking along the embankment, Haruto tried humming Hinata's tune.
(♪——)
No sound came out. But in his head, the melody played clearly. In Hinata's voice, together with Hinata's smile.
He sat on a bench in the riverside park.
(We used to sit here together, the three of us.)
Mao in the middle, Haruto and Hinata on either side. When evening came, the sky dyed orange and the river's surface sparkled. Hinata would say "It's pretty," Mao would laugh and say "It is," and Haruto would nod and say "Yeah."
(Those days really existed.)
Haruto leaned back against the bench and looked up at the sky.
(But now, no one remembers.)
That Hinata had played here, that the three of them had laughed together — the world had made it all into something that never happened.
Haruto stood up.
He went under the cherry tree on the embankment. When they were little, the three of them had tried to climb this tree, and Hinata had fallen and cried. Mao had rushed over in a panic, and Haruto had stroked Hinata's head.
(Back then, Hinata got a scrape on her hand.)
Haruto touched the trunk of the cherry tree.
(We must have carved something here, the three of us.)
He remembered writing their three names at the base of the trunk. Haruto, Mao, and Hinata — three names, small.
Haruto crouched down and searched the base of the cherry tree.
There was nothing.
(The carving's gone.)
The surface
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