Chapter 1: Touno and Miyamae

♥♥♥

It was an evening when spring had passed, and the first signs of early summer were beginning to stir.

I’d gone fishing by the river on my bike and returned to find Daidouji-san sitting in a chair in front of the apartment, reading a book. Daidouji-san is like the master of Yamame-sou, a graduate student whose daily activities are a mystery, though he claims to be researching the universe.

“Ayu (sweetfish), huh? Did you kill them properly?”

“I iced them down properly.”

“Good. It makes all the difference in taste. That’s the kind of universe we live in.”

Daidouji-san sets up a tripod on the road, slides in a metal plate, tosses in charcoal and dried weeds, and skillfully starts a fire.

I take an ayu from the cooler box filled with ice water, skewer it on a wooden stick, and start grilling it over the charcoal.

Just then, Fukuda-kun emerges from the apartment, his hair still messy from sleep.

“You guys are at it as usual, huh?”

“No money, so we’ve got to fish.”

“Mind if I join?”

“Of course not.”

My family isn’t exactly struggling, but they’re not wealthy enough to send me lavish allowances either. So, I have to be frugal with my living expenses, and the residents of Yamame-sou are experts in that kind of ingenuity.

Back in my first year, when my stomach was growling, Daidouji-san casually handed me a fishing rod.

Now in my second year, I’ve gotten used to fishing and filleting, living a sort of self-sufficient lifestyle like this.

“Looking pretty good.”

Daidouji-san examines the ayu closely as he speaks.

The fish are getting nicely charred, and a pleasant aroma begins to waft along the roadside.

That’s when it happens.

Across the street, the door to the fourth floor of Sakura Heights opens, and a girl peeks out. The door closes briefly but soon reopens as the girl hurries down the emergency stairs toward us.

“M-may I join you for the meal!?”

It was Touno.

She’s holding chopsticks in her right hand, a bowl heaped with white rice in her left, and a bottle of yuzu ponzu tucked under her arm.

“Eat as much as you like.”

I hand Touno a skewer of ayu.

Touno squats in front of the charcoal fire, drizzles ponzu on the fish, and starts eating with her rice. As I watch her, she glances at her mound of rice and shrinks a little, saying, “I had a lot of volleyball practice……” as if embarrassed. Despite her hesitant demeanor, she eagerly devours the grilled ayu.

Then Miyamae arrives, dropped off by a car from somewhere. I’ve gotten good at identifying the types of fish in the river, but I know nothing about cars. Still, I can tell this one has a refined elegance, and the university-aged guy driving it is undeniably charming.

Miyamae seems to be quite popular.

In the past two weeks alone, I’ve seen six different “refined university guys” drop her off in front of Sakura Heights.

“Shiori-chan, Shiori-chan!”

Touno beckons Miyamae over.

“Touno, are you scavenging food again?”

Miyamae says something like that.

“Come, have a seat. We all live in the same universe.”

Daidouji-san offers a weather-beaten chair, but Miyamae doesn’t respond and heads back to her room in Sakura Heights. Or so it seems, until she returns with a plate piled with chopped onions, carrots, and other vegetables.

“If you’re going to feed Touno, make sure she eats some vegetables too, okay?”

Though she says this, the amount of vegetables Miyamae brought is enough for all of us. We, who’ve been surviving on homegrown bean sprouts and mysterious mushrooms from the closet, swarm the plate, desperate for vitamins and fiber.

It was an ordinary dinnertime scene in the early summer twilight.

Lately, the five of us—Touno, Miyamae, me, Fukuda-kun, and Daidouji-san—have been hanging out together a lot.

It all started with that mahjong showdown.

The Yamame-sou residents, having won the right to eat with Touno and Miyamae, all wanted to join in, but none of us knew any places suitable for escorting girls. In the end, we held a cherry blossom Ascot banquet with other Sakura Heights residents and everyone else, right on the Kamogawa riverbank.

Over the next two months, we gradually started talking more, leading to moments like this.

“I’m having fun.”

Fukuda-kun says, looking up at the sky.

As we eat ayu and vegetables, it’s gotten completely dark, and a beautiful starry sky spreads above.

“Starting university, making friends……”

I close my eyes, listening to those slightly ticklish words.

“I kinda like it too.”

Miyamae says, poking the charcoal with a stick.

“It’s relaxing.”

That’s when it happens.

A cute gyuuu sound comes from Touno.

“N-no, that wasn’t me!”

Touno lowers her face, raising one hand in protest. Touno tends to hide the fact that her name, Akira, is a bit boyish, that she’s tall, and that she’s a big eater.

I take the remaining ayu from the cooler box and start skewering them.

“Kirishima-san, aren’t you saving those for later, to freeze?”

“It’s fine. Touno’s still hungry, right?”

When the extra ayu are grilled, Touno starts eating, saying, “Uuu, sorry……” with a dejected look, but soon breaks into a smile as she munches.

“Touno, is something bothering you?”

Daidouji-san asks.

“You’ve been awfully self-conscious lately.”

He’s right.

Touno generally loves running and dresses sportily, not seeming overly concerned with femininity. But lately, she’s been shrinking her body more often or acting embarrassed about her heaping bowl of rice.

“If something’s up, we’ll help.”

Touno fidgets but finally starts talking, her face bright red.

“I have to confess my feelings to a guy.”

Apparently, there’s a national volleyball tournament coming up that Touno will compete in. Since it’s a tournament, men’s teams from all over will also gather on the same schedule.

“He’s someone I don’t have much contact with, so if I don’t tell him there, I won’t get another chance.”

But Touno slumps.

“I just don’t know how to deal with guys, and I get so nervous. I’m afraid I won’t be able to say it on the day…… but it’s a feeling I’ve cherished since high school, so I really want to tell him……”

“Well, we’re technically guys too……”

Daidouji-san says, glancing around at us.

“In any case, if that’s the situation, we’ll help you confess properly. If you’re lacking courage, we can even go to the tournament venue with you. We’re cheering for Touno Akira. No need to hold back. We’re comrades who’ve eaten ayu together. We live in the same ayu universe.”

“Ayu universe?”

Miyamae tilts her head, but somehow, everyone present ends up agreeing to go to the venue to support Touno’s confession.

“Is that okay with everyone?”

Touno asks.

“It’s no big deal.”

Miyamae says.

“I’m worried about you, Touno.”

“If it’s okay with you, Touno-san.”

Fukuda-kun smiles gently.

“If I can do something for a friend, I’ll happily do anything.”

Those words are so very Fukuda-kun.

And of course, I nod too.

I came to a university in Kyoto alone, with no family or acquaintances, and I was lonely for a long time. Now, being able to spend time with others like this—it’s no exaggeration to say it’s truly, tearfully joyful. So, giving up tomorrow’s ayu or going to the volleyball tournament—it’s all a source of happiness.

Then, we fall silent for a bit.

It’s a gentle, calm silence, as if everyone’s lost in their own thoughts.

The embers crackle softly.

The breeze carries the faint scent of summer.

“On a night like this, the sound must resonate beautifully.”

Daidouji-san says.

I nod and ready the kokyu I’d been carrying on my back.

The kokyu is a stringed instrument played with a bow. Truth be told, I’ve established the Kirishima Kyoto style: wearing a casual kimono, high geta sandals, and playing the kokyu.

“Please listen. Composed by Kirishima Shirou, ‘Higashiyama Thirty-Six Peaks’!”

Hear, O wind, the melody of my soul.

Thinking of Kyoto’s solemn mountains illuminated by moonlight, I let the kokyu’s notes ring into the night sky.

Daidouji-san nods approvingly.

Touno keeps munching on the remaining ayu.

Miyamae yawns sleepily.

Fukuda-kun starts cleaning up.

♥♥♥

On the weekend, I was riding the train with Miyamae. It was a rainy afternoon. We were heading to Touno’s volleyball tournament. Fukuda-kun and Daidouji-san, for some reason, were more nervous than Touno herself and had taken the first train to the venue.

“Unlike Touno, you’re totally fine hanging out with guys, huh, Miyamae?”

I say, looking at Miyamae sitting next to me.

“I’ve always been in co-ed schools.”

Miyamae met Touno at their university’s entrance ceremony and became friends. She lets Touno, who skips lectures for volleyball, borrow her notes and lends her back as a shield when Touno panics after being approached by guys.

“You don’t get nervous being alone with me either, Kirishima.”

Miyamae says.

Indeed, most guys would be nervous around a beautiful, polished girl like Miyamae.

“Maybe you’re used to it?”

“Who knows?”

“Well, doesn’t matter either way.”

Her fine hair and clear forehead. Miyamae is glamorous, but her profile has a touch of melancholy, a beauty that suits rainy days.

“But is Touno gonna be okay?”

“I’m not worried.”

She’s positive and energetic, Miyamae says.

“Plus, she’s been practicing, right?”

“She has.”

Since deciding to confess her feelings to someone important, Touno has been practicing communication with the guys at Yamame-sou to overcome her shyness.

She’d come to watch our late-night mahjong tournaments in a dimly lit room or show up at mealtimes with a bowl of rice, striking up conversations.

The ones who had it rough were the apartment residents.

Perhaps due to her all-girls school background, Touno often wore outfits that were hard to know where to look.

Usually, it was shorts and a T-shirt, but with her tall frame and chest size, the T-shirt was always tight. On hot days, she even wore tank tops.

Touno’s gluttony tends to steal the spotlight, but she’s actually a strikingly beautiful girl with distinct features. So, when a girl like her, dressed in revealing clothes, comes and goes alone in a den of guys, it’s quite a situation. But the chances of anything going wrong were one in a million.

Why? Because Touno alone could overpower the frail Yamame-sou residents.

Once, we held an arm-wrestling tournament in my room, Touno defeated the guys like she was snapping twigs, easily taking the championship.

“N-no, that’s not it! It’s, it’s the air pressure! Just a fluke!”

Perhaps embarrassed by her tomboyish vibe, Touno covered her face with her hands and clammed up.

Trying to reassure her, Daidouji-san kept saying, “It’s okay, Touno, you’re cute!” over and over, but Touno, flustered, said, “Th-thank you! But no need for flattery!” and shoved him with both hands, sending him rolling back two tatami mats before he hit the wall, shaking the entire apartment.

With that kind of vibe, she practiced communicating with our feeble guys, though it’s unclear if it helped, and the big day arrived.

That morning, as Touno came out of the mansion with a large sports bag slung over her shoulder, I told her, If you’re nervous, try looking at their chest instead of their eyes when you talk. Touno flashed a peace sign and smiled.

“The guy’s probably some national-level men’s volleyball player she saw at a match in high school, right?”

“I think so. Touno said she competed at Inter-High.”

Miyamae says casually.

Touno’s kind of a big deal, huh?

“Still, Kirishima, you’re awfully invested in Touno.”

“It’s not just me. Fukuda-kun, Daidouji-san, and all the other guys too.”

There’s probably something about Touno that makes people want to cheer for her.

“Plus, I don’t just want to help Touno—I want to do something for someone.”

“Hmm.”

Miyamae looks at me.

“I can’t tell how serious you are.”

“You should know. Someone like you, Miyamae, who quietly helps a drunk guy back to his room when no one’s watching or cleans up the messy garbage area at the mansion—”

Mid-sentence, Miyamae stomps on my foot, looking annoyed.

“Don’t talk about that stuff.”

After stomping, she glances down at my feet.

“Why aren’t you wearing geta and a kimono today?”

“Touno told me to come dressed normally if I was going.”

“You gave in pretty easily, huh?”

“No way.”

At first, I tried to resist, saying, “This is my style!” But then Touno raised both hands, clenched her fists, and struck a pose like a bear intimidating its prey. Touno was, when push came to shove, a slightly tomboyish girl who’d resort to physical strength.

“Kirishima, why’d you start dressing like that? In your first year, your fashion sense was questionable, but you were barely wearing normal clothes, right?”

“Barely…… Wait, so you were watching me, Miyamae?”

“You’re literally across the street. When you suddenly switched to a kimono, it was kind of a shock.”

“Why I settled on this style? That’s a long story.”

“Then never mind. I’m not that interested.”

“I went to school in Tokyo until high school.”

“Uh, I said I’m not interested?”

“What happened when I washed up in Kyoto……”

“He’s started narrating.”

“The reason I started wearing a kimono and playing the kokyu—”

“Where’d I put my earphones~”

“The story goes back to April of my first year at university—”

Facing Miyamae, who’d put in earphones, started playing music, and was pretending to sleep, I began to tell my tale.

♥♥♥

From April of my third year of high school until graduation, all I remember is studying. Listening to late-night radio, reading textbooks, solving past exam questions. Studying let me forget everything else.

On my career aspiration forms, I wrote down Tokyo universities, and that’s what I told everyone around me.

But in the winter, on a whim, I sent for application forms for a university in Kyoto without telling my parents. I wasn’t particularly attached to Kyoto. I just wanted to go somewhere where no one knew me. Kyoto had a lot of universities, so I figured I’d get into one of them.

And so, I passed the entrance exam for a Kyoto university, left without telling my high school friends, and started living alone in Kyoto.

My first year at university was gray.

Holed up in a room in a shabby apartment, I stared at the stains on the ceiling, spending my days earning money from a part-time job branding calligraphy brushes and losing it all at mahjong.

Losing at mahjong felt oddly refreshing. It was like being punished, and I thought maybe, eventually, I’d be forgiven.

Since I had no money, I kept eating ridiculously cheap sashimi konjac from the nearby supermarket, without even miso to dip it in. I grew bean sprouts in my closet and ate the mysterious mushrooms that sprouted in the corners of my room.

The good thing about this closed-off life was that I couldn’t hurt anyone. I thought I’d live like this, never bothering anyone.

By the time winter came, I was wasting away, body and soul. When I closed my eyes, memories from my third year of high school came flooding back. I’d been studying nonstop, trying not to see or hear anything. But I clearly remembered being pointed at and talked about behind my back. Those voices stuck in my ears.

In the darkness, I kept replaying their voices condemning me.

You made them miserable. How can you still show up at school? They should’ve been the one to transfer.

The imaginary voices went further, telling me what I should’ve done, what I could’ve done differently.

Under my futon, I kept arguing with these nonexistent people.

What else could I have done back then? Apologize? They blocked me. Sure, if I really tried, I might’ve found them. But what’s the point of meeting now? They made it clear they never wanted to see me again and left.

If you’re saying I should suffer forever, fine.

Curse me more, condemn me more.

I went through those endless exchanges day after day.

All I had was the past, and I was completely alone. That’s what I wanted, and I’d perfectly achieved it. But—

One day, while walking alone through the drinking district of Kiyamachi, it hit me. Amid the nighttime bustle and the sight of happy people out of the corner of my eye, I was struck by a terrifying loneliness.

Would I keep living like this, watching warmth from a distance, staying in the dark?

Would I live clinging to and haunted by memories?

I was scared.

But I still couldn’t believe I had the right to connect with anyone.

I realized I was paralyzed—afraid of loneliness, afraid of connecting with others, completely unable to move.

I didn’t know what to do. I was at a loss.

What I needed was a way to engage with the world and with others.

Someone, please tell me what to do.

But that someone wasn’t by my side. No one was by my side.

I borrowed a ton of books from the university library and devoured them.

Philosophy, religion, literature—I searched for hints about how I should live going forward. But I found nothing.

I thought I was done for.

I’d been thoroughly destroyed by myself, with nothing left.

In an air-conditioner-less apartment room, surrounded by a towering, mortar-shaped pile of books, I was ready to rot away.

In that arrogant spiral of knowledge, it felt like a fitting end for me.

“More light……”

Still, I sought hope, but couldn’t find it. My strength drained, and I thought I’d just turn into a mummy like this.

That’s when a few sheets of paper were slipped through the gap of my poorly fitted door.

Loose-leaf notes with the contents of university lectures.

It was Fukuda-kun.

For some reason, Fukuda-kun worried about me and, without me asking, always passed me notes like this. Thanks to him, I never failed a class despite skipping lectures.

“Why……”

I crawled to the door.

“Why are you so kind to someone like me……”

No response. Maybe he’d already left. I slumped, defeated.

But then—

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Fukuda-kun’s voice came through the door.

“Because we’re friends.”

Fukuda-kun called me a friend, even though we were just neighbors in the same apartment and had only attended a few lectures together. And he worried about a good-for-nothing friend like me, going so far as to bring me notes.

Normally, people don’t reach out to someone sulking alone. It’s far more rewarding to ignore them, focus on self-improvement, or go have fun.

Only a side character in a human drama would selflessly try to cheer up a broken person without expecting anything in return. That’s what I thought. But Fukuda-kun showed me that such people exist in reality.

I stood up, opened the door I’d kept shut for so long, and light poured in.

“Fukuda-kun, I’ve never thanked you properly.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m doing this on my own.”

Fukuda-kun said with a friendly smile.

“Besides, Kirishima-kun, I think you’re a bit too self-punishing.”

“You’d forgive someone like me, Fukuda-kun?”

“I don’t know what happened in your past, Kirishima-kun. But I can forgive you.”

I cried at Fukuda-kun’s kindness.

And I realized.

I didn’t want to be alone or punish myself.

Maybe all along, I just wanted to cry like this.

After sobbing for a while, I gave Fukuda-kun some yokan I’d been saving as thanks. Since he’s a fellow poor apartment resident, he was thrilled with the sweet treat.

After Fukuda-kun returned to his room, I noticed that when he’d been happy about the yokan, I’d felt joy too.

And in that moment, a revelation hit me.

I pulled a book from the towering pile.

A work by the German philosopher and psychologist Erich Fromm.

The Art of Loving.

In this book, Erich states that the essence of love is “giving.” He views loving not as something innate but as a skill to be cultivated, requiring daily practice.

Here, I found a new way of being for Kirishima Shirou. I’d always been the one receiving. From now on, I’d become someone who gives. That’s what I decided.

Fukuda-kun was undoubtedly a giver. He gave me kindness, salvation. He didn’t just help me—he shared his closet-grown bean sprouts with everyone in the apartment. I should be like him.

From then on, I started training to become someone truly capable of “loving,” to become a giver. That was my way of engaging with the world.

I bought a fishing rod, caught fish, and cooked for the residents who were eating nothing but suspicious mushrooms.

In return, someone gave me high geta sandals.

I thought, Geta? That’s not right, and left them at my doorstep for weeks, but due to various circumstances, I ended up wearing them. Everyone was delighted.

One day, Daidouji-san stopped me in the apartment hallway. Back then, he was wearing a kimono.

“Kirishima, I’m thinking it’s about time I stopped wearing this kimono.”

“Why not just take it off?”

“But this is the kimono passed down through Yamame-sou. I can’t take it off unless I pass it on to someone.”

Apparently, Daidouji-san’s girlfriend, who’d already entered the workforce, told him it was embarrassing to walk together and to stop wearing it.

I couldn’t ignore someone in need.

“Got it. I’ll wear it.”

After that, Daidouji-san taught me how to play the kokyu. The reason? Playing the kokyu in traditional clothing would be kind of cool. By the way, Daidouji-san’s main instrument is the morin khuur.

And so, I became a man who wears high geta, a kimono, and carries a kokyu on his back.

I wanted to know love and become a giving man.

I vowed to act to make everyone I meet happy. Following Erich Fromm, I’d become a giver. That’s my guiding principle now.

And I’m no longer alone.

Touno, Miyamae, Fukuda-kun, and Daidouji-san are here.

If there’s a sick child in the south, I’ll nurse them. If there’s a tired mother in the west, I’ll carry her rice. If Touno is struggling to confess to someone she loves, I’ll go to the venue with her and help.

That’s the kind of person I want to be.

♥♥♥

In the gymnasium, the sound of a ball hitting the floor echoes.

It was Touno’s spike.

“Man, she’s something else.”

Daidouji-san says, and we nod.

We’re sitting side by side in the cheering section, watching the court.

Touno leaps impressively high, her sharp gaze locking onto the ball, high-fiving her teammates to share her joy.

Her expression is refreshing, her sweat-soaked hair vibrant.

“Does Touno-san’s personality change when she’s in her uniform?”

Fukuda-kun says, watching the court.

“More like……”

Miyamae responds.

“She gets bold when she’s with a group of girls. She can be her usual self, I guess.”

Thanks to Touno’s energetic, full-throttle performance, her team wins decisively.

As we head down from the cheering section to talk to her, we run into the women’s volleyball team coming out of the hallway.

Touno spots us, breaks away from the group, and comes over.

“Shiori-chan, Shiori-chan!”

“Hey, Touno, sweat, sweat!”

Touno tries to hug her, but Miyamae dodges.

“Oh, Fukuda-san!”

When Touno sees us, she starts introducing us to her teammates. She seems to be a mood-maker and a leader in the club.

Apparently, she talks about us in casual conversation, because when she introduces Fukuda-kun and Daidouji-san, the volleyball team members react with, “His perm’s real~ So cute~” and “Ohh, this is the universe guy!”

“And this is Kirishima-san.”

When Touno says this, the volleyball players exclaim, “The kimono guy!” “The fisherman!” “The kokyu guy!” “Wait, why’s he dressed normally today!?”

The group of girls is lively.

“Kirishima-san, you’re super popular!”

Touno slings an arm around my shoulder, the sticky feeling of her sweat seeping through my clothes.

“Oi, Touno.”

“It’s the sweat of victory!”

She rubs her sweaty forehead against my head.

“By the way, Kirishima-san, why aren’t you in your kimono?”

“You’re really asking me that?”

“Without it, you’ve got no defining traits!”

“Who was it that told me not to wear it?”

“You need to value your identity more!”

“You threatened me with that bear pose, though.”

“Oh, I bet you’re trying to look cool because there are so many girls around. Geez!”

Touno smacks my shoulder with a bashi~n!.

Her hits are heavy.

Man, Touno really does act differently when she’s surrounded by the volleyball girls.

“Touno-san, if you keep that energy, you’ll do fine, right?”

Fukuda-kun says.

He’s talking about the confession. Touno had said she’d confess her feelings after the match.

And as Fukuda-kun says, Touno right now seems very natural. While she’s still using polite speech, she’s not overly reserved with us like she usually is.

I suggest she keep this energy while surrounded by her volleyball teammates.

“If the group’s too much, want me to go with you alone?”

Miyamae adds.

In short, Touno’s like a sea creature that perks up in saltwater. Putting her in an environment reminiscent of her all-girls high school days should do the trick. However—

“Hm~m……”

Touno narrows her eyes, making a complicated expression.

“I think this is something I need to do alone, with courage.”

Touno was an honest girl.

“But please stay with me until the last moment.”

That’s how it was decided.

The men’s venue was in another gymnasium on the same grounds, and we escorted Touno to its entrance. Until the very last second, she was practicing saying, “Otsukaresama desu!” to me and Fukuda-kun. That’s probably what she planned to open with.

Touno starts heading into the gymnasium.

“Good luck!” “You’ll be fine!” “The Touno universe is expanding like never before!”

Everyone calls out to her back.

Touno turns to look at us, so I think for a moment before speaking.

“Telling someone how you feel is a precious thing. Especially when it’s a beautiful emotion.”

Touno nods deeply and disappears through the door.

In the misty rain, we stand there, lingering aimlessly.

“If Touno gets a boyfriend, she might stop hanging out with you completely, Kirishima.”

Miyamae shoots me a meaningful glance.

“Is that okay?”

“Doesn’t bother me.”

I say.

“As long as everyone’s happy, that’s enough for me.”

That’s the kind of man Kirishima Erich is.

♥♥♥

On the train ride back, Fukuda-kun was a massive hit.

We ended up with the women’s volleyball team, and something about Fukuda-kun’s natural perm triggered them. They were all over him, squealing, “So cute~”

“Kirishima-kun, help!”

“Fukuda-kun, out there, they call this happiness.”

Like Touno, he went to an almost all-boys high school, so he probably needs this kind of experience.

To escape the boundless energy of the girls’ group, I sat with Miyamae a little farther away in the same train car.

“Miyamae, got a thing for solitude or something? Not that I’m one to talk……”

“Don’t lump me in with a guy who wears geta!”

She says she’s not bad at talking to people. But—

“Those girls are so blunt!”

Miyamae’s cheeks flush.

Apparently, they bombarded her with questions. They asked if someone as pretty as her had a boyfriend. When she said no, they asked if she had anyone close. When she admitted she’s been approached by various guys, they started asking how far she’d gone with them—

It turned into some intense girl talk about how living alone means you can do anything, and that’s when she fled.

“……You seem like you’re used to guys, but you’re pretty pure, huh, Miyamae?”

“Kirishima, you don’t have to say anything.”

Miyamae, eyes still spinning, Fukuda-kun being mobbed, Touno frolicking among the volleyball girls, and Daidouji-san lecturing a random kid on the train about the universe.

I think these are blessed relationships.

“I’m heading to the lab.”

At one station, Daidouji-san says this and gets off the train.

“I’ve got plans after this.”

At the next station, Miyamae gets off. As usual, she’s going out after being invited by various guys. No sign of a boyfriend. She seems to just eat or go on dates with different people. I watch her back silently as she leaves.

Fukuda-kun is still surrounded by the volleyball girls. He’s well-groomed, his sincerity shines through in his expression, and he’s a smart guy with prospects, so it makes sense.

I’m fine being a background character, with nothing special to do. So, I take out a notebook with staff paper to compose a new piece for the kokyu when—

“Do~n!”

Touno crashes into me with force and plops down next to me. I thought my ribs might’ve cracked.

“You’re in a great mood.”

“Everything went perfectly, after all!”

Touno, in her tracksuit, is all smiles.

“By the way, what’d you think of me playing volleyball?”

“You were really cool.”

“Wasn’t I so cool!?”

“Are you even listening?”

“I’m kinda tired from all the excitement and getting sleepy.”

“You’re too free……”

Touno closes her eyes and starts breathing softly.

She’s probably exhausted from the match, so I let her be.

After a while, Touno leans against my shoulder.

Fukuda-kun is still busy with the girls’ conversations.

The train keeps moving.

I’m still not used to Kyoto’s trains. I’ve come a long way.

Building new relationships with new people in a new place, a new Kirishima Shirou.

This is fine. This is the right path. As I tell myself that—

“Touno, time to get off~”

One of the volleyball girls comes over. They’re all heading to a victory celebration for the match.

“Hah!”

Touno opens her eyes and sits up.

“Sorry, I really fell asleep!”

Touno laughs, embarrassed.

“Kirishima-san, thank you for today! Let’s keep hanging out!”

Touno bows quickly and gets off the train with her teammates.

Fukuda-kun, finally free from the volleyball girls, comes to sit next to me.

“You were super popular.”

“I didn’t know my natural perm had this much power.”

“It’s probably curlier than usual.”

“It’s the humidity.”

Alone with Fukuda-kun, the air feels especially calm. That’s the power of his character.

“Still, Touno-san was even more energetic than usual.”

“It went well for her.”

Then Fukuda-kun gives a wry chuckle.

“It was all a misunderstanding on our part, huh?”

“Touno’s partly to blame. When someone says they’re confessing to someone important, anyone would interpret it that way.”

Touno’s thing wasn’t a confession after all.

An international volleyball tournament was also happening at the same venue.

Touno entered the gymnasium after we saw her off. A while later, she came out doing a guts pose, proudly showing us the back of her tracksuit, where a signature was written in marker.

It was the signature of a famous Italian men’s volleyball player.

An Olympic medalist, Touno had been studying his videos since high school, practicing to hit sharp spikes like him.

When she heard he was coming to Japan for the tournament, she was determined to get his signature.

“Instead of practicing talking to guys, she should’ve practiced Italian.”

“Getting a signature with just gestures is so Touno.”

It was an utterly deflating story.

Exhausted from the day, we fall silent, gazing at the scenery through the train window.

Old townscapes wrapped in gentle rain.

“Anyway……”

I say, watching people with umbrellas walk down the street outside.

“It’s good, isn’t it? That it was all a misunderstanding.”

“Huh?”

“You like her, don’t you?”

When I say that, Fukuda-kun scratches his head, embarrassed.

“Man, I can’t get anything past you, Kirishima-kun.”

And with a slight shy smile, he says,

“Yeah. I like Touno-san.”