Chapter 1

It takes ten minutes to walk from home to the nearest station, a few stops by train, and then another five-minute walk from the station. That’s where Masato’s school, Enuma High, is located. Perhaps because he rides the train in the opposite direction of the morning rush toward central Tokyo, he avoids the crowded commute and enjoys a relatively comfortable trip in a spacious train car.

Waiting on the platform at his home station for the first step of his journey to school, Masato watches as the train slowly pulls in. Once it comes to a complete stop and the doors open, he steps inside and positions himself by the door on the opposite side. This is his usual spot.

At this time of day, the area is filled with students like him. Some are from his school, others from different ones. Amid the crowd of students, a girl approaches him.

“Morning, Akatsuchi-kun!”

“Hey, Minamoto.”

The girl who greeted him is his classmate, Dora Minamoto. With striking blue-green eyes like gemstones and long strawberry-blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, she’s clearly half-Japanese, half-American, as her name and appearance suggest, with her mother being American. However, having been born and raised in Japan, and with her parents using Japanese in daily conversation, she’s not particularly fluent in English. Appearance aside, she’s practically Japanese. Masato has never heard of her excelling in English tests.

Dora is also one of Masato’s few friends. Perhaps because their commuting times overlap, they often run into each other on the train without planning and head to school together. She’s part of the girls’ volleyball team, but according to her, she’s more of a “casual player than a hardcore one,” so she doesn’t have morning practice.

“You’re dressed pretty light for the morning.”

She has the school’s designated cardigan tied around her waist, with the long sleeves of her shirt rolled up. It’s late April, so it’s not that cold, but it’s not exactly hot enough to roll up sleeves either.

“Didn’t I mention? My body temperature’s naturally high. Plus, I sweat a lot, so I try to keep from getting too warm.”

“You could probably make a ton of broth in the summer.”

“Broth…? Gross! You realize you’re talking to a girl, right?”

“Nah, I’m fully aware.”

“That makes it even worse!”

She retorts with mock anger. But Dora isn’t genuinely upset. This is just how they always interact. To Masato, she’s a girl he can treat with the same ease as a guy friend, someone he doesn’t need to put on airs for. He probably couldn’t be this casual with other girls.

They continue their lighthearted, trivial banter all the way to school.

×　　　　×　　　　×

“Hey, Akatsuchi, Minamoto-san. Morning!”

As they enter the classroom, they’re greeted with a bright, handsome smile from their classmate, Shirou Ide. Despite being a guy, he has androgynous—almost feminine—features, is slightly shorter than Masato, and has a delicate build with a higher-pitched voice. At times, he seems so feminine that one might suspect he’s a girl in disguise. Of course, there’s no clichéd manga or light novel twist where he actually turns out to be a girl—he’s undeniably male.

Since it might be a sensitive topic for him, Masato keeps thoughts like he’d probably look good in a dress to himself.

“Morning, Ide.”

“Morning, Ide-kun.”

Masato responds casually, while Dora adds the “-kun” honorific.

The three of them were in the same class last year. Their friendship started by chance when they ended up seated near each other after a seating change, and they hit it off. Even after moving up a grade and getting new classes, they ended up together again, so their bond has continued uninterrupted.

“You two are cutting it close again. Come earlier!”

Following Ide’s gaze to the clock above the blackboard, Masato sees there are only five minutes left until homeroom. Like Dora, he usually arrives around this time.

“As long as we make it, it’s fine, right?”

“Someone’s been late a few times, unlike me,” Dora quips.

As she points out, while Dora usually makes it on time, Masato occasionally oversleeps and ends up tardy. Feeling awkward and unable to retort, he looks away—and his eyes fall on an empty seat near the teacher’s desk.

(…Huh?)

Even though homeroom is about to start, the seat’s owner hasn’t hung their bag on the hooks on either side of the desk, meaning they haven’t arrived yet. Masato doesn’t know exactly what time they usually show up, but they’re not the type to cut it as close as he does.

It’s not a coincidence that his attention landed there. The seat belongs to Kurusu, the girl who confessed to him after school yesterday. It’s only natural he’d be concerned, given what happened.

(Is she absent today?)

It might be self-centred to think, but there’s a chance her absence is related to him. Maybe she’s too scared to hear his response, or perhaps she’s avoiding the awkwardness of facing him.

Or maybe she just caught a cold this morning.

“What’s up?”

Noticing Masato frozen, staring at her seat, Ide leans in to ask.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Really?”

At that moment, the chime signaling the end of arrival time rings through the school. Students chatting around the classroom start returning to their seats or classes. The relaxed atmosphere shifts toward the tension of lessons.

Amid this change, a woman who looks about ten years old slides open the classroom door and steps inside. She has fluffy, golden semi-short bob hair and provocative, crimson, upturned eyes. She’s dressed in a child-sized women’s suit, resembling a private elementary school uniform, and holds an attendance book.

Standing at the teacher’s desk, she flashes a mischievous grin.

“Alright, you lot, sit down quick, or I’ll make ya stay for extra lessons!”

Despite her delicate appearance, her tone is rough, like a delinquent. This is, unbelievably, their homeroom teacher for Class 2-C, Mika Kamina—a proper adult, older than them.

Some students still lingering and chatting hurriedly return to their seats at the mention of “extra lessons.”

“Let’s get this homeroom started!”

And so, another day of school life begins.

Kurusu never showed up.

At lunchtime, Masato, Dora, and Ide finally find a four-person table in the crowded cafeteria. They sit down and start on their lunches: Masato with a ham and cheese French toast bought from the school store, Ide with a grilled fish set ordered at the counter, and Dora with a homemade bento.

“…Hey, can I ask for some advice?”

Taking a leap, Masato decides to bring up yesterday’s confession.

“Advice?”

Ide glances at him while sipping miso soup. Dora, drinking tea from a water bottle, also looks his way with just her eyes.

“I got confessed to yesterday.”

Both of them choke in unison.

Cough, cough! “Don’t spring that on us when we’re drinking! That’s harsh! Ugh, it went down the wrong pipe… Cough! Cough!”

Dora struggles, coughing as she fights the tea stuck in her throat.

“Okay, but choking in sync is worse. Is it that shocking? I’m kinda hurt.”

Masato knows he’s not exactly a ladies’ man, but their reaction—like he’d won the lottery—stings a bit.

“Sorry, sorry. It was just so sudden,” Ide says.

“A confession… like, a love confession?” Dora asks, catching her breath.

“What else would it be?”

“Maybe a scam…? Shouldn’t you call the police?” Dora says with a worried look, already reaching for her smartphone as if to dial.

“Why’s it automatically ‘no way someone would confess to me’?”

Is she still holding a grudge about the broth comment from this morning? Was it that bad?

“Who’s the girl?” Ide asks, taking the confession seriously. As expected of a handsome guy—his heart’s handsome too.

“Sorry, I’d rather not say. She probably wouldn’t want her name spread around.”

Given how close they are as classmates, he can’t reveal it’s Kurusu. She’d likely want it kept between them.

“…Got it. So, the advice is about how to respond?”

“No, I’ve already decided.”

“Then what’s there to consult about?” Dora asks, looking puzzled. Her hand has stopped eating her bento, suggesting she’s intrigued despite herself.

“It’s because I’ve decided that I’m struggling. I’m planning to turn her down, but I don’t know how to do it without hurting her…”

Yes—Masato had decided to reject Kurusu’s confession the moment she said, “I like you.”

“What? Why? Isn’t that a waste? It might be your first and last chance!” Dora says.

“Can you not say that with such a serious face, Minamoto?”

“A pervert who calls a girl’s sweat ‘broth’ doesn’t deserve a chance even once.”

“Broth? What?” Ide looks confused.

“Hold on, don’t just label me a pervert! Look, you’re freaking Ide out!”

She’s probably joking, but she’s definitely still hung up on the broth thing. Girls hold grudges.

“Well, if you’re set on rejecting her, I’ll respect that. But a way to reject without hurting her…” Ide muses.

“You get confessed to a lot, Ide. Got any good rejection lines?”

With his looks, good personality, and skills in academics and sports, Ide is popular. Masato’s heard him mention turning down confessions before, and he’s probably getting them more often than Masato knows. Lucky guy.

“You’ve got plenty of rejection experience, right?”

“That phrasing sounds kinda snarky…”

In fact, Ide has turned down every confession he’s received. Masato’s never heard of him dating anyone.

“Hey, why not ask me?” Dora interjects.

“You’ve been confessed to?”

“Yeah? Not as much as Ide-kun, probably, but yeah.”

Masato intended the question for both, but he’d secretly expected more from Ide due to his experience. He’s surprised to learn Dora’s also on the “experienced” side.

(What? Was I the only one who’s never been confessed to until now…?)

A sad realization hits him.

(Now that I think about it, Minamoto does seem like she’d be popular…)

Her friendly demeanour with everyone, model-like features, and attractive figure—guys would definitely find her appealing. Masato himself has, as a guy, sneaked glances at her chest or hips when she wasn’t looking.

But since they’re usually so close, like friends of the same gender, she feels more like a buddy than a romantic interest. He’s never had romantic feelings for her.

“Still, I’ve never dated anyone either. I’ve turned them all down,” Dora says.

“Really?”

“If it’s someone I like, that’s different. But getting confessed to by someone I don’t like? Not thrilling at all.”

“Wait, the way you say that… do you have someone you like?”

The casual question catches her off guard, and for once, Dora blushes, showing a rare girlish reaction.

“W-What’s that got to do with you?! You’re getting off track!”

Her reaction suggests she does have someone. Masato’s a bit curious, but if she says it’s irrelevant, he’ll drop it. Besides, the main topic is his issue, not her crush. She’s right—they’re veering off course.

“Oh, right. So, back to it—any good rejection tips?”

“Hmm… Getting rejected by someone you like is gonna hurt no matter what. So, I just answer clearly, without sugarcoating. I think that’s the respectful thing to do for someone who worked up the courage to confess,” Ide says.

His logic is irrefutable. As expected of a pro.

“I agree with Ide-kun,” Dora chimes in.

“If you say something like ‘let’s just be friends’ out of guilt, it might give them false hope. So I just say, ‘No way, not you,’ and keep it clear.”

“‘No way’ is a bit harsh, don’t you think, Minamoto?” Masato says.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t go that far. A bad rejection could breed resentment, so you should be careful about how you hurt them,” Ide adds.

Both Masato and Ide critique her approach. Saying “no way” seems too brutal.

“Hmm, fair point… I’ll be more careful next time. Thanks for the advice, you two.”

“No problem.”

“Why are we talking about Minamoto’s rejections now…?” Masato says, exasperated. The conversation’s derailed again.

“Point is, your ‘luxury’ of rejecting without hurting her is impossible. Hurting her is inevitable—it’s about how you say it,” Dora says.

She’s completely forgotten her bento. Masato’s only halfway through his bread. Ide, meanwhile, has somehow finished his meal, apparently capable of multitasking.

“So why reject her? Got someone else you like?” Ide asks, his and Dora’s eyes unusually serious.

“Nah, no one like that…”

“Really? Didn’t you say before you’ve never had a first crush?” Ide recalls.

“Wait, seriously…?” Dora looks at Masato like he’s an alien.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’ve just got other things I need to focus on right now. Even if I dated someone, I probably wouldn’t have time for them. That’d be unfair, right?”

Ide finishes his water, takes a breath, and asks, “What’s this ‘thing you need to focus on’?”

Masato expected the question but hesitates. It’s a different kind of sensitive topic from Kurusu’s name. After a moment’s thought, he answers vaguely, “Taking care of someone… I guess?”

To the two in front of him, it probably sounds like he dodged the question entirely.

“Oh! Guys, lunch is almost over—less than five minutes!” Dora exclaims, glancing at her phone. She finally notices her neglected bento and starts shovelling it in like she’s on a packed train.

“…Looks like this conversation’s done. Sorry I couldn’t be more help,” Ide says with a wry smile.

“No, at least I know rejecting without hurting her is impossible. Thanks for listening.”

Ide stands to return his tray to the rack. Masato forces down the rest of his bread, though his appetite’s gone, and it doesn’t taste great.

“Hey, Akatsuchi-kun,” Dora says.

“What, Minamoto?”

“Whatever you say, it should be in your own words.”

“…Yeah.”

Both Ide and Dora, with their wealth of rejection experience, carry a certain weight and conviction.

(They say some cool stuff.)

Though in Dora’s case, the rice grain stuck to her cheek undercuts it a bit.

Pointing it out just as she chugs the rest of her tea makes her blush again and choke, just like earlier.

“Kurusu didn’t show up, huh.”

On his way home, Masato walks through a residential area, carrying a supermarket bag full of groceries.

Is it just a cold, or is yesterday’s confession the reason? Did she sense she’d be rejected, or is she avoiding the awkwardness? Or maybe she’s avoiding letting him reject her altogether—that’s probably overthinking it.

(If I had some sci-fi power to go back in time, I could’ve avoided the confession…)

Then he wouldn’t be agonizing like this, and she wouldn’t get hurt. But this world doesn’t have such fantastical powers, and besides—

(She worked up the courage to confess. Erasing that feels wrong.)

He reflects.

(Now that I think about it, no one seemed to care that she was absent today.)

Kurusu wasn’t the most social, but she had a few friends. Yet none of them mentioned her absence.

(Is she secretly disliked…?)

Masato considers the possibility of bullying.

But that doesn’t add up. The teachers didn’t mention her absence during attendance checks either. Are they complicit in some kind of “ignore her” campaign?

(I’m overthinking it.)

He only notices because he has a reason to care. If it weren’t for yesterday, he’d probably be indifferent to her absence too. People are surprisingly apathetic about others.

(Time to switch gears.)

It’s five minutes from school to the station, a few stops by train, and ten more minutes of walking. He’s in the middle of that final walk now.

Masato arrives at the Akatsuchi family’s house but doesn’t stop. Instead, he continues a few houses down to another standalone home.

The nameplate reads “Ibutsu.” Without hesitation, he opens the gate, pulls a key from his pocket, inserts it into the lock, turns it ninety degrees, and opens the door. This isn’t a mistake or a break-in. What he’s about to do is as much a part of his daily routine as school—more so, since it includes weekends.

“Dark in here…”

At this time of evening, without lights, it’s dim. The hallway, far from any windows, is especially dark, only faintly lit when the front door opens.

Masato flips on the hallway light and heads to the living-dining area, turning on another light near the entrance.

“Hm?”

On the dining table sits a note and a standard brown envelope.

“Masato-san, thank you as always. This is for this month.”

Inside the envelope are several bills. He skims the overly formal note, puts it back in the envelope, and tosses it into his bag.

After storing the groceries in the fridge, he returns to the hallway and heads upstairs.

As expected, the second floor is dim and quiet, as if no one’s home.

But Masato knows that’s impossible. He heads straight to the room at the far end and gently knocks on the door with the back of his hand.

“…”

No response from the room’s occupant.

“Coming in.”

He knocks out of courtesy, but the door is never locked, and he’s never denied entry. At most, if she’s changing, she’ll ask him to “wait a bit.”

So, without hesitation, he opens the door and steps inside, just like at the entrance.

“Again, huh…”

The room is pitch-black, with blackout curtains drawn and no lights on.

“Wake up, Midori.”

He hits the light switch near the entrance with precision, despite the darkness, having been in this room countless times.

As the ceiling light flickers on, the room comes into view. A light pink curtain covers the terrace door, next to a small desk like one a grade-schooler would use and a chest for clothes. Across from them, by the entrance, is a single bed.

The room is sparse, not cluttered, less like a typical girl’s room and more like a minimalist’s space with only the essentials.

Masato’s gaze shifts to the bed, where something stirs under the covers.

“Ugh… bright…”

The figure pulls the blanket tighter, shielding itself from the light. With a small sigh, Masato walks to the bed and yanks the covers off.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty. Geez, you won’t sleep tonight at this rate.”

“…Ugh… bright… Wait, Masa-kun?”

Rubbing her eyes, the curled-up girl meets the gaze of the boy looking down at her.

“Yep, your childhood friend, Masato Akatsuchi.”

“Masa-kun!”

The moment she sees him, the girl with long black hair down to her back sits up and throws herself into his arms.

“Whoa!?”

She leaps at him with full trust that he’ll catch her, and Masato braces himself to do so. She’s only a year younger than him, not a small child, so he nearly topples backward but manages to hold his ground.

“You’re finally here…”

“Sorry, the supermarket checkout was packed, so I’m a bit late.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. Bad wording.”

Her half-lidded, sleepy eyes meet his, and with flushed cheeks, she smiles.

“Just having you here makes me happy.”

But then, her expression turns slightly lonely.

“…But I was a little lonely.”

Her voice is soft, almost pleading, as she looks up at him. Masato gently pats her head.

“Not anymore, right?”

“Yeah.”

She smiles again, burying her face in his chest.

“Hey… is it okay?”

She looks up again, asking. The pause before “is it okay?” omits a specific word.

“The usual ‘sniff-sniff’?”

She nods, her bangs swaying.

“Go right ahead.”

With his permission, she presses her face—especially her nose—closer, breathing deeply.

“Suu… fuu… suu… haa… Masa… kun… fuu… suuu…”

Her cheeks flush as she inhales slowly, her warm, slightly damp breaths brushing against him.

“Masa-kun’s scent…”

This is the “ritual” of Midori Ibutsu, the reclusive girl who couldn’t become a high school student.

Every day, without fail, she does this when they meet. She’s never explained its significance, but seeing her look so at ease, it must be important. Masato can’t bring himself to stop her.

“Still going?”

“…A bit longer. Suu…”

The duration varies slightly, but it usually lasts five to ten minutes until she’s satisfied. He doesn’t time it, but once she starts, she doesn’t stop for at least that long.

“…Fuu, satisfied.”

Finally, she lets out a small, relieved sigh and pulls away.

She steps off the bed. At about 145 cm, she’s roughly 25 cm shorter than Masato’s 170 cm.

“Midori, did you do your studies?”

“Yeah, I did. Everything you told me to, all of it.”

She walks to the desk, grabs a workbook labelled “Math” and a red pen from the pen holder, and hands them to Masato.

“Here.”

Masato takes the workbook and pen. Since she doesn’t attend school, he’s been giving her basic workbooks for the five core subjects, assigning daily tasks from Monday to Friday, excluding weekends. They’re light enough to finish in one or two hours. Today’s math day.

Sitting on the bed, Masato opens the workbook, checks the answers against the back, and starts grading with the red pen.

“Just to check, you didn’t peek at the answers, right?”

“Nope, I didn’t. You told me not to.”

He trusts her completely.

Because Midori follows his words to the letter, as if they’re programmed into her, whether they’re right or wrong.

That’s the kind of girl she is.

“You’re still making the same mistakes…”

Since she doesn’t cheat, the workbook reflects her true ability. Honestly, she’s gotten less than half correct—probably under 30% of today’s section.

Hearing this, Midori’s expression darkens, as if blaming herself.

“Sorry… I’ll do better next time…”

Tears well in her eyes, threatening to spill. Masato didn’t mean to be harsh, but—

“I couldn’t do what you taught me… again.”

The guilt weighs on her more heavily than he realized.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re making fewer mistakes than last week. Keep it up.”

“Yeah…”

Ideally, she should be getting at least 70% correct, even if not perfect. These are middle school-level questions, specifically first-year material, from easy workbooks. Yet, across all five subjects, her scores remain low. Even repeating the same sections doesn’t improve them. She might temporarily do better, but after switching subjects, her scores drop back down.

Back in middle school, she attended classes but never reached the academic level expected of a student. It wasn’t for lack of effort—she worked harder than most, tackling mistakes repeatedly and spending more time than others.

But she couldn’t do it.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t become what society calls “normal.” Teachers’ and Masato’s help amounted to nothing.

“By the way, Masa-kun, ready for dinner? It’s curry day.”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot to mention, they were out of beef within budget, so I got pork instead. That okay?”

“Yeah, so pork curry instead of beef?”

“Yup.”

Masato eats dinner with Midori every day. He’s explained the situation to his parents, who allow it out of sympathy, though they don’t interfere in another family’s affairs.

“I’ll go make it. Wait here, Masa-kun. I’ll call you when it’s ready… Look forward to it!”

With that, Midori leaves the room.

Her face lights up, eager to do one of the few things she enjoys. But there’s also a hint of desperation, as if she’s trying to make up for her earlier mistakes.

“She doesn’t need to push herself so hard.”

Unlike studying, Midori can cook decently from a recipe book, though not perfectly. Her dishes often turn out slightly too salty or sweet, but Masato likes the effort she puts into the flavors.

“If people could see this side of her, she’d probably have good friends… Well, too late for that.”

Alone in the room, he mutters softly.

If others could appreciate her strengths from a different perspective, she might not have been bullied and ended up a recluse.

Masato still regrets not being able to save her.

His gaze falls on the middle school bag hanging by the desk—a bag she no longer needs.

“…”

Since they were kids, Midori always followed Masato everywhere.

He’s known since they met that she couldn’t meet society’s definition of “normal,” and he never pushed her away. They were often teased, but he brushed it off. Most kids would be bothered by such teasing, but for Masato, a sense of duty to “protect her” always took precedence.

But when he entered high school, a year ahead of Midori, who was in her third year of middle school, their time together decreased. High school and middle school environments barely overlapped. Still, in an era of smartphones, they stayed in touch outside of weekends.

But Masato didn’t notice. He didn’t see that Midori, left alone, was being bullied. By the time he realized, it was too late.

His mother told him, “The Ibutsu family’s Midori-chan has stopped going to school.” That’s when he learned of her suffering. Through SNS chats and calls, she’d hidden her pain to spare him worry, and he’d been completely oblivious.

Through connections, he tracked down one of her classmates, a girl who explained the situation. Midori had no other friends and was always alone. She struggled to communicate with anyone unfamiliar, and her difficulties with academics, sports, and more made her “inferior” in the eyes of some. A group of girls made her a target to vent their daily stresses, believing it was fine to mistreat someone “beneath” them. They insulted her in passing, spread rumours about her on SNS, defaced her textbooks and bag with graffiti or cuts, and even threw her things away. Masato doesn’t know how many bags she went through. The bullies also pressured the class to ignore her.

Objectively, she wasn’t physically harmed, but being constantly belittled was enough to deeply wound her psyche.

Masato had heard that girls’ bullying often involves mental attacks through social exclusion rather than direct harm, and it’s hard to detect. True to form, Midori endured nearly six months of this without teachers or other classes noticing, until she stopped going to school altogether.

She graduated middle school without attending the ceremony and didn’t take high school entrance exams.

Only her classmates likely knew about the bullying at the time. But fearing conflict or involvement, no one helped her. It took Masato significant effort to find that one classmate willing to talk.

(If I’d noticed sooner…)

Midori told him the names of the main bullies, and the classmate showed him a group photo from a school trip, so he knows their faces. But with no evidence now, there’s nothing he can do. Without catching them in the act, punishment is impossible.

(“I have to protect her,” huh? I thought it, but I didn’t do anything.)

That regret still pierces him deeply.

(So this time, I have to follow through…)

This is his atonement. His duty and responsibility for not noticing Midori’s pain back then. It’s the “thing he has to do.”

That’s why he can’t spend time on trivial things—like dating someone else.