There are words from someone in my pocket. 　Tanaka Kenji first noticed it on the way home. The streetlights along the coastal road bled orange, and the wet asphalt reflected that light twice over. The thin paper's texture transmitted to his fingertips with each step. 　He didn't know whose it was. 　But it was definitely someone's. 　　　＊ 　Shionagi North High School's third-year, second class was located at the eastern end of the second floor of the main building. 　From the window seat, you could see Shionagi Bay. Beneath the overcast sky, the grayish water surface dully reflected the morning light. The rainy season was approaching. A humidity slightly heavier than usual drifted through the bottom of the air. 　Kenji observed the entire classroom while pretending to look outside. 　This was a habit. Not a defense or an obligation, but an act as natural as breathing—something his body had learned over three years. 　The girl in the next seat—her name was Itou, he thought—dropped her er