T.N: I will keep certain terms in the original Japanese. I think you already know the meaning of these words, but I will still give the English definition for those who don’t.

1. さん (san): This is a general, respectful suffix used to address or refer to someone. It's similar to "Mr.," "Mrs.," or "Ms." in English. It's commonly used for people of all ages and social statuses in both formal and informal contexts.

2. 君 (kun): This suffix is often used for addressing younger males, or in a more familiar or casual setting. It can be used with people of the same or lower status, and it's commonly used among friends, students, or in professional settings where there is a clear hierarchy (like between a superior and a subordinate).

A Selfish Friend

Kazuya Sugimoto transferred to a private railway line from Yanase Station. Calling it a private railway sounds good, but it’s an extremely local line, with only a handful of trains running each day. Kazuya managed to catch one of these rare trains and boarded the blue carriage.

The train stopped at every station. Since a passenger got off two stations ago, there had been no sign of movement inside the train. The only people left were an elderly woman sitting diagonally across from him and himself. At these deserted stations, only the train dutifully made its stops. The clock had barely moved ten minutes since the last time he checked. Time seemed to stretch out to thirty or even forty hours in this place. Reminding himself that the journey was still long, he sank deep into the hard seat and closed his eyes. Why did he have to return to his hometown during his precious summer vacation? As he pondered the cause, he remembered the phone call he had received two weeks ago from his old friend Tomohisa Onodera.

There was a time when Kazuya lived with his mother at his aunt's house from fourth grade until he graduated middle school. His father was a kind but unreliable man, constantly gambling and creating debt, which caused his mother endless trouble. Fed up, his mother finally asked for a divorce. Although they divorced, the father could barely pay alimony, let alone child support. Struggling to make ends meet, Kazuya's mother moved in with her sister, who lived in a small countryside town called Kasumino.

Onodera was the first friend Kazuya made after transferring to the rural elementary school. Kazuya was more inclined to play indoors than outside, and Onodera was also a quiet child who loved reading at home. Because of these similarities, they quickly became close friends.

They were inseparable throughout elementary and middle school. But before Kazuya entered high school, he left the small town with his mother, who had remarried. Even though they were apart, they stayed in touch, maintaining their friendship. Three years later, after graduating from a rural high school, Onodera moved to the city and attended the same university as Kazuya.

After graduating from university, Onodera returned to the countryside and got a job at the local government office. He would occasionally call Kazuya, but it was usually just to complain about his boss or talk about his girlfriend—nothing important.

In mid-July, after the first semester's final exams had ended, Onodera called Kazuya out of the blue. At first, it was the usual complaints about his girlfriend, but the conversation eventually drifted to their middle school days. As they reminisced, Onodera suddenly fell silent.

"What's wrong?"

Kazuya thought he might be thinking about his girlfriend. From what Onodera had often mentioned, she seemed to be quite selfish, loved shopping, and was quite demanding. As a friend, Kazuya had subtly advised Onodera to distance himself from such a troublesome girlfriend, but Onodera seemed reluctant to break it off, perhaps because of his own reasons.

After a short pause, Onodera lightly clicked his tongue and slowly spoke.

"Why don't you come back here, just once?"

"What’s this all of a sudden?"

Kazuya hadn't thought that Onodera's relationship with his girlfriend had deteriorated to the point where he needed to involve a friend. Onodera wasn't the type to get involved in messy situations with women. Kazuya had a bad feeling.

"Kazuya, how long has it been since you left here?"

"Twelve years, I guess. I left before entering high school. Time flies... It feels like I just graduated from high school."

On the other end of the line, Onodera chuckled softly. It seemed that his request to "come back" wasn't related to his girlfriend.

"We’re getting older, aren’t we? We'll be thirty soon. We’re practically middle-aged."

"There are better ways to say that. Maybe that we’re getting more distinguished?"

Kazuya continued the conversation while grading the final exams. The unusually poor results were starting to give him a headache. At this rate, the average score would definitely drop, and there would be a lot of students needing retakes.

"You remember Miura, don’t you?"

Kazuya's hand paused over the exam papers.

"He's sick... in the hospital right now."

Kazuya didn’t respond, remaining silent. Onodera said nothing more, perhaps gauging his reaction.

"Is he going to die?"

His mouth felt dry, and his voice came out slightly hoarse.

"No, he's not going to die, but it’s a pretty tough illness. It’s called nephrosis. He’s been working at construction sites ever since he dropped out of high school, but the doctors told him he couldn’t do physically demanding work anymore, so he quit. They say he could manage a desk job, but it’s hard to find work with just a high school dropout's qualifications, and I can’t see him doing desk work anyway. So, he’s in a tough spot."

"I see..."

"Could you visit him? Even just showing your face would be enough. Miura’s pretty down, and I think seeing you might cheer him up a bit."

Kazuya couldn’t find the words to respond.

"Or... do you still have trouble with him?"

Onodera’s hesitant tone gave Kazuya a moment to think.

"How long has it been since I’ve been back?"

"You just said it yourself—twelve years. A lot changes in twelve years. Kids grow up, and people’s perspectives change. Miura’s mellowed out a lot too."

Kazuya was searching for an excuse to decline. He considered saying he had a summer camp with the club he was advising or that he was too busy with remedial classes and outside training sessions since he was now a homeroom teacher for the senior class.

As he thought of excuses, it started to feel silly that he was so determined not to go back. Moving away had ended those relationships, and everything was over in his mind. It was strange to keep dwelling on it.

"It’s summer break, so maybe I’ll go back. I should visit my aunt too."

"Let me know when you're coming. I’ll pick you up. Transportation here is pretty inconvenient."

"I’ll definitely let you know. Talk to you later."

After hanging up the phone, Kazuya was filled with deep regret for not refusing. What would he even talk about if he met Miura now? Miura would surely interrogate him and get to the heart of the matter. How would Kazuya handle that?

He wondered if Miura would understand if he said it was because of his mother’s sudden remarriage. No, Miura wouldn’t. Saying he had no way to contact Miura would be a lie. Kazuya knew Miura’s address and phone number. If he had truly considered Miura a best friend, he should have made some effort to stay in touch. But at the time, he was so relieved to be away from Miura that he hadn’t cared, thinking he never wanted to be involved with him again.

He didn’t want to have unpleasant experiences or deal with the hassle. These thoughts came first, just like how these final exams were turning out to be a disaster. What did those students think they were doing during his classes? All they had to do was study, and they couldn’t even grasp the basics he’d told them to remember. Kazuya angrily threw the pile of tests onto the desk. He let out a sigh. If he hated it so much, why did he agree to go back? He probably didn’t want Onodera to know that he still cared about Miura. Kazuya hoped that Onodera would forget about it, and the matter would fade away quietly as summer break approached.

Contrary to what he had hoped, Onodera kept asking, “When are you coming back?” every time he called, making it impossible for Kazuya to pretend he had forgotten. In the end, he had no choice but to return to Kasumino during his summer vacation. The first thing he would do upon arriving at the station was visit Miura in the hospital, and then spend the night at his aunt’s house. The plan was for the terribly slow train to arrive at the station where he had arranged to meet Onodera at 3 p.m.

Even with his eyes closed, sleep was nowhere in sight. Back in middle school, he used to commute by train and could sleep through any amount of jolting, but now even the slightest movement would wake him up. Annoyed by the patchy smartphone signal, he stuffed the phone into his bag. With nothing to do, he absentmindedly gazed out at the scenery.

It was the first time in twelve years he had seen this landscape. The train weaved through the mountains, passing through a number of small tunnels. Suddenly, the view to the south opened up, revealing a rustic port to the east and the faint outline of a peninsula to the west. The scenery was exactly as he remembered it, down to the smallest detail. For a moment, he almost fell into the absurd illusion that he was still a middle school student.

The train stopped, and surprisingly, some people got on. Three boys, likely around third or fourth grade, climbed aboard. They looked around curiously before innocently occupying the seats across from him. Each of them pulled something from their bulging pockets—candy, chocolate, gum. The sweets, squished and misshapen from being crammed into their small pockets, looked grotesque to an adult’s eyes. But the children carefully divided them into three equal shares.

Watching their childlike fairness, Kazuya found it amusing. The kids noticed the strange adult laughing at them and turned to look at him in unison. Their wary gazes made him feel guilty, so he averted his eyes. It felt like their stares were saying:

“Who are you to laugh at us?”

Kazuya knew he hadn’t been a fair child. The look in those children's eyes reminded him of someone he would rather not think about, someone he didn’t want to meet again.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Eighteen Years Ago: Summer

The weather from earlier in the day seemed like a lie. A small cluster of clouds in the corner of the sky had quickly spread, covering it with a heavy, gloomy blanket.

“Don’t wander off too far. You don’t know the area yet since we just moved here,” his mother had warned. Ignoring her advice, Kazuya slowly walked toward the mountains along a narrow, barely paved forest road that was only wide enough for one car. It was a straight path, so he wasn’t worried about getting lost, and his aunt’s house was still clearly visible behind him.

Whenever he heard the sound of an engine, he would move to the side to let the car pass. If a large vehicle came, he had to step onto the ridge of the rice fields. Standing on the ridge, the still-green rice stalks tickled his calves.

The cars in the countryside seemed much more laid-back than those in the city where he used to live. The road stretched out before him with not a single person in sight, as if the path had been made just for him. As he continued walking, he felt a growing sense of self-importance, swinging his arms wide as he went. It felt wonderful.

The road eventually split into two. One side was paved, and the other was a dirt path scattered with stones. Kazuya paused at the fork, unsure which way to go. The stone path seemed to hold more promise, and before he knew it, his feet were moving in that direction.

On the right side of the stone path was a small waterway, and beyond it, thin tree branches stretched out to form a natural arch. On a sunny day, it would have made for a pleasant, shady spot, but on a cloudy day like today, it only felt dim and gloomy.

As he walked, the stone path grew narrower, eventually disappearing into the foothills of the low mountains ahead. A rumbling sound came from the sky, causing him to stop and clutch his stomach. He wondered if the mountain gods were angry because he had ventured into a forbidden place. Though he knew it was just thunder, the lightning flashing through the gaps in the clouds unsettled him. The thought of the mountain gods’ wrath refused to leave his mind.

A strange rattling sound began to echo from somewhere. It was a dull, dragging noise, as if something heavy was being pulled closer. At that moment, Kazuya remembered a story about a "Yamanba" (mountain witch) that he had read when he was much younger. The Yamanba would kidnap children, chop them up, and cook them in a big pot. He remembered the chill that had run down his spine when he first read the story, and now, in this remote mountain setting, the idea of a Yamanba didn’t seem so far-fetched.

“I’m scared.”

His whole body erupted in goosebumps. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the raindrops hitting his back or sheer terror. Unable to stand, he crouched down, trembling.

Unable to bear it any longer, he suddenly bolted. The thought of looking back never crossed his mind. The rain began to pour down in torrents. The unpaved road was full of footprints and ruts, and Kazuya almost tripped several times as he ran. When he finally made it back to the fork in the road, his toe caught on a small depression, sending him tumbling headfirst to the ground. His scraped forehead stung, and tears welled up in his eyes. As he lay there, he heard the rattling sound growing louder behind him.

He covered his ears with both hands. The rattling sound came to an abrupt stop just behind him. The Yamanba must be looking at him, thinking, “This child looks delicious,” licking her lips.

“Get up.”

It was a child’s voice. The Yamanba must have a child servant.

“Get up, I can’t pass through.”

Kazuya remained curled up and trembling. The child grabbed his arm. Kazuya let out a small gasp and hesitantly looked up. The child was about the same height as him. With a fierce expression and slanted eyes, he looked like a minion of the Yamanba. The child was also drenched, as if he had a bucket of water dumped on him. He looked at Kazuya’s face and grinned.

“What a weird face.”

The child pulled Kazuya to his feet, then ran back down the path. Warily, Kazuya turned around. Instead of a Yamanba, he saw a man in a wheelchair, with the slanted-eyed child standing behind him. The man had a small ladle and a water bucket on his lap.

“Move out of the way.”

Kazuya quickly stepped aside. The wheelchair rattled as it passed by, the wheels frequently getting stuck in the uneven road. Each time that happened, the child would stop and use all his strength to push the wheelchair. Finally, the wheels got stuck in a large muddy rut and refused to move. The child struggled to free them, but it was no use.

Frustrated by the lack of progress, the man began to shout angrily at the child. Kazuya was scared of the yelling man, but it didn’t feel right to leave the struggling child behind. His teacher had taught him that it was important to help people in need.

“Do you need some help?”

Both the man and the child turned to look at him at the same time. The man’s eyes were similar to the child’s, with a slight upward slant.

“No, thank you. It was fine on the way here, so he should be able to push it on his own.”

His words were polite, but his voice was as cold as raindrops. Although the child had briefly looked at Kazuya with pleading eyes, he turned back to face forward and continued to push the wheelchair with determination after hearing the man’s words.

Kazuya was soaked and shivering from the cold rain, but he couldn’t just leave someone in need. The child glanced back at him once more, just for a moment, before turning to face forward again. Even without words, Kazuya felt the silent plea for help and quietly stepped up beside the child. The child looked surprised for a moment, then moved over to make space for Kazuya to help push the wheelchair. Without a word, they nodded to each other to synchronize their efforts. Together, they easily freed the wheels from the mud. Kazuya stopped there, while the child continued pushing the wheelchair, now with the combined momentum, along the path. Once the wheelchair disappeared onto the paved road, heading in the opposite direction of his aunt’s house, Kazuya felt it was safe to leave. So, he ran as fast as he could, feeling very cold.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The boy with the slanted eyes was named Keiichi Miura. Kazuya learned his name the next day when he started at his new elementary school. Having previously attended a large school in the city with ten classes per grade, he was shocked to hear from the slightly older female teacher who would be his homeroom teacher that this new school had fewer than sixty students in total, with some grades having fewer than ten students.

On his first day at the new school, Kazuya nervously followed the teacher into the fourth-grade classroom and immediately spotted the boy among the mere ten classmates. The teacher wrote "Kazuya Sugimoto" on the blackboard in white chalk and read it aloud twice in a loud voice. Kazuya, tense, kept his eyes fixed on the knot in the wood of the teacher’s podium.

At that time, Kazuya was still using his mother's maiden name, Sugimoto, which he hadn’t yet gotten used to.

"My name is Kazuya Sugimoto," he murmured in a small voice. He thought he would take his seat, but then the introductions started, with each student standing up from their seat at the end of the row. When the child with the slanted eyes stood up energetically and loudly announced, "Keiichi Miura," Kazuya felt Miura’s eyes on him no matter where he looked. Miura’s eyes, caught at the edge of his vision, always seemed fiercely slanted. After everyone had finished introducing themselves, the elderly female teacher pointed to a seat at the far end of the U-shaped arrangement of desks, near the doorway.

"Your seat is over there, Sugimoto-kun."

As Kazuya started walking toward the seat that had been prepared for him, Miura suddenly raised his hand and stood up.

"Ms. Ono, let him sit next to me. Hey, Tanaka, you can move over there."

Miura was seated in the middle, flanked by two girls. The girl called Tanaka made a displeased face at Miura's suggestion. The teacher tilted her head slightly and asked, "Sugimoto-kun, what would you prefer?"

Kazuya didn’t really care where he sat. Being new, he had no sense of whether one spot was better than another. If anything, he preferred a seat in the corner rather than one in the center, where the teacher’s gaze would be directly on him.

"Teacher, I know him," Miura said, proudly drawing everyone’s attention to himself. "We met yesterday, didn’t we?"

"Uh... yeah," Kazuya nodded, as there was no denying they had met. Ms. Ono smiled kindly.

"Since you’re new and already know Miura, maybe it’s better if you sit near him."

So, Kazuya was assigned the seat next to Miura. Carrying his textbooks, he quietly sat down beside the slant-eyed boy. As soon as he did, Miura rudely nudged him with his elbow and grinned when Kazuya turned to look at him.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Even though it was usually the class leader’s job to show new students around the school, Miura insisted on doing it himself. Kazuya didn’t mind who showed him around, but the class leader quickly gave up the role under Miura’s intimidating glare.

During lunch break, Miura said they would tour the school, so Kazuya hurried to finish his meal, nudged by Miura’s elbow the whole time. As soon as Kazuya finished eating, Miura, who had already emptied his plate ages ago, grabbed Kazuya’s hand tightly.

"Come on, let’s go!"

"Wait a minute!" a voice called out. Both Miura and Kazuya turned to see Akemi Tanaka, the girl who had been moved to the corner seat, standing up and glaring at Miura. Her braided hair, tied into two plaits, swayed at her shoulders.

"Miura-kun, you’re on cleanup duty after lunch. You’re supposed to stay in the classroom until everyone’s finished eating."

"I’ll be back as soon as I’m done," Miura replied.

But Tanaka shook her head vigorously. "No way! Cleanup duty means you have to stay until everything is cleaned up. That’s the rule. If you leave, I’ll tell Ms. Ono."

Miura silently glared at Tanaka, the tension in the room growing. Sensing trouble, Kazuya gently nudged Miura’s shoulder.

"Why don’t you stay in the classroom? I can ask someone else to show me around."

Miura turned to look at Kazuya, his angry gaze making Kazuya’s back stiffen.

"Are you defying me?"

"No, I didn’t mean to..."

Before Kazuya could finish, Miura struck him on the head. It was a hard, merciless blow that sent Kazuya stumbling backward into a desk, causing a stir in the classroom.

"You don’t have to hit him just because things aren’t going your way. You’re such a bully," Tanaka said sharply.

Holding his aching head, Kazuya looked up to see Miura pushing Tanaka to the floor, his anger flaring. No one had time to intervene. Miura sat on top of Tanaka, pulling her braided hair as if he were yanking reins.

"It hurts! Stop it!"

Miura’s face looked both angry and smiling, which made him even scarier. Despite Tanaka’s cries, no one stepped in to help at first. Everyone was too afraid of Miura. But even though he was scared, Kazuya couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, especially not when someone was in pain.

"Stop it! You’re hurting her," Kazuya said, his voice trembling as he pushed Miura’s back. Though he hadn’t meant to push hard, Miura toppled forward, hitting his head on the floor. When he lifted his face, a thin stream of blood trickled from his nose.

"It hurts..."

Miura sat there, stunned, without even bothering to wipe the blood. Kazuya was certain that Miura would retaliate, pin him down, and start hitting him, but the expected counterattack never came. Before Miura could act, Ms. Ono, alerted by the commotion, rushed into the classroom.

"What’s going on here? I’ve told you not to fight... Oh my!"

The teacher was shocked to see Miura’s bloody nose and the crying Tanaka lying on the floor.

"Miura-kun, go to the nurse’s office."

Miura got up slowly and left the classroom. As soon as he was gone, three girls gathered around Tanaka, protecting her. Ms. Ono looked around at the children.

"Now, someone tell me what happened. Why were you fighting?"

The room fell silent; no one spoke.

"Teacher!"

At that moment, a thin boy with glasses named Onodera raised his hand.

"Miura-kun was supposed to be on cleanup duty after lunch, but instead, he wanted to show Sugimoto-kun around the school. Tanaka-san reminded him of his duty, and then..."

Onodera reported the facts to the teacher just as they had happened. The teacher looked at Kazuya and asked, "Is that true?" He nodded silently. The teacher let out a small sigh.

"We'll discuss this during the end-of-day meeting. I want each of you to think carefully about what happened before then."

The teacher approached Tanaka, and after confirming she wasn't injured, she left the classroom. The students who had been eating lunch returned to their seats, while those who had finished gathered in the corners, whispering among themselves.

Kazuya couldn't shake the feeling that every snippet of conversation was about him. He sat silently in his chair, feeling an uneasy tension in his jaw, but unable to do anything about it.

"You don't have to worry about Miura," Onodera, the boy who had explained the situation to the teacher, said as he approached Kazuya.

"He's always like that."

Onodera had slightly droopy eyes and a relaxed expression. He smiled shyly, and Kazuya couldn't help but smile back. It made the tightness in his chest ease a little.

"Miura can be scary, right? If something bothers him, he hits people right away. He wants to make you his follower. When the last transfer student came, Miura was helpful at first, but when he got bored, he started excluding and bullying him."

Onodera revealed Miura's true nature. Kazuya pictured Miura straddling Tanaka, his anger simmering.

"Want to look around the school together?"

One by one, the other students grew tired of staying in the classroom and headed out to the schoolyard.

"Aren't you going to play with the others?" Kazuya asked, glancing at the students heading outside. Onodera smiled.

"It's fine. Let's go."

Kazuya nodded eagerly, feeling it would be much better to explore the school with Onodera than with Miura.

"Okay, let's start on the third floor."

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Miura returned to the classroom just as the afternoon classes began, but he didn’t even glance at Kazuya, who sat next to him. He kept his face twisted in anger, lips pouting. He didn’t respond to the teacher’s questions, either. Kazuya, who had always believed that the teacher’s word was absolute, found it hard to believe that a child like Miura, who openly defied authority, could exist.

After all the day’s classes and cleaning were finished, the school held something called the "end-of-day meeting." This was when the class discussed any issues that had arisen during the day. This was Kazuya's first time participating. The first topic of discussion was Miura and Tanaka’s fight. The class members criticized Miura's behavior one by one.

"I think it was wrong for Tanaka-san to call Miura-kun a bully," Onodera, the only one who spoke up in Miura's defense, said. Ms. Ono nodded and summarized the discussion.

"Hitting others out of anger is wrong, but words can hurt people too. Everyone should consider what Onodera-kun said."

The meeting ended, but Kazuya felt unsettled. In the end, Miura apologized to Tanaka in a half-hearted, insincere way.

"I'm sorry too," Tanaka responded, her tone triumphant. She seemed satisfied after having the class side with her and attack Miura.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Finally, the much-anticipated end of the school day arrived. Kazuya suppressed his urge to run home and slowly made his way out of the classroom. He had forgotten where his shoe locker was and was wandering around the entrance when he encountered the last person he wanted to see—Miura. Even though he had waited to leave the classroom after Miura had already left, Miura was still there. Their eyes met, and Miura grinned. Kazuya quickly looked around. No one was there. If a fight broke out, there would be no one to stop it.

"Yours is the third one from the right," Miura said.

At first, Kazuya didn’t understand what he meant. After replaying the words in his head, he realized Miura was referring to the location of his shoe locker.

"Oh... thanks," Kazuya muttered awkwardly. Miura stared at him intently. Even just opening his shoe locker under Miura's gaze made Kazuya tense and uncomfortable. As soon as Kazuya finished putting on his shoes, Miura casually spoke.

"The locker you're using used to belong to Yoshimoto. You don’t know who Yoshimoto is, do you? He died in an accident back in May."

Kazuya gulped, his throat tightening. His fingers, still touching the locker, suddenly felt cold.

"No one’s touched that locker since then because they’re all afraid of Yoshimoto’s ghost. You’re the first. You might even die today."

Miura laughed gleefully. Even though Kazuya tried to tell himself it couldn’t be true, the thought still made him uneasy. He had always been susceptible to suggestion. Once an idea took hold in his mind, he couldn’t shake it.

"That’s a lie!" Kazuya protested, his voice trembling.

"It’s not a lie. The other day, Akiko touched it and cut her pinky finger with scissors the same day. Something bad is definitely going to happen."

"But you just said I was the first person to touch it," Kazuya argued.

"I never said that."

Miura pouted.

"Liar! Miura-kun, you're a liar!"

Before Kazuya could even blink, Miura slapped him across the face. The sharp pain stung his cheek. His parents had never hit him, so Miura’s violence both frightened and frustrated him. Tears welled up in his eyes. Miura hadn’t learned his lesson from the end-of-day meeting; he still resorted to violence without hesitation. Kazuya glared at Miura through his tears, but Miura just smirked.

"What a weird face," Miura said, pointing at him before taking out his own shoes and putting them on. Then, he grabbed the wrist of the crying transfer student.

"Let’s go home together."

Kazuya couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t understand what Miura was thinking. His cheek still throbbed.

Miura ran at an incredible speed, dragging Kazuya along with him. Kazuya, completely bewildered, could only follow. When they reached a small, rundown shop across from the school, Miura suddenly stopped.

"I forgot to buy an eraser," he muttered, pulling Kazuya into the shop. An old man with a stern face, like the statue next to the school gate, glared at them as they entered.

The tiny shop was packed with everything from groceries to stationery, leaving hardly any space to move. The erasers were on a shelf at the very back. They were the kind with popular characters that had been trendy a few years ago, now covered in a thin layer of dust. Miura blew on them and rummaged through the box, pulling out a blue eraser and slipping it into his pocket. Kazuya’s heart skipped a beat. Miura glanced at him, then stuffed an eraser into Kazuya’s pocket as well. Kazuya was too shocked to speak. Miura grabbed his classmate’s hand and boldly walked out of the shop. After they had walked a few meters, Miura took the stolen eraser out of his pocket and held it up to the sunlight.

"Aren’t you going to pay for that?" Kazuya asked, stopping in his tracks. Miura also stopped and tilted his head slightly.

"Let’s go to the port. I’ve got a secret base there."

Miura gave a quick nod and started running ahead. Kazuya just wanted to go home, but he knew that with the stolen eraser in his pocket, he couldn't go back like this. Even though he hadn’t stolen it himself, he was sure that if the teacher found out, she would scold him for not stopping his friend from doing something wrong.

The port had several breakwaters made from clusters of hollow, triangular-shaped tetrapods, and Miura squeezed into one of them. As Miura popped his head out from inside the tetrapods, he looked like a mole in a game of "Whack-a-Mole."

There was barely enough space inside the tetrapods for one child to fit. Miura beckoned Kazuya to join him inside the narrow hole. Kazuya didn’t like cramped spaces, but he had no choice. The tetrapods had many side holes, and from one of them, Miura pulled out a manga.

"Do you want to read?" Miura offered an old boys' magazine that was months outdated. Kazuya took the manga and, mustering up his courage, finally spoke up.

"We have to pay for the eraser… we shouldn’t steal it."

Miura looked up from the manga, showing no signs of guilt.

"You shouldn’t steal. It’s wrong," Kazuya insisted.

Miura tossed the manga aside.

"It’s just 100 yen. You could find that lying around anywhere," Miura said, tilting his head in genuine confusion. Kazuya was troubled. How could he make Miura return the money when he didn’t even think stealing was wrong?

"But it wasn’t yours to take. You’d be mad if someone took your money, wouldn’t you?"

"If someone did, I’d punch them."

"The old man at the shop would probably feel the same way if he knew something was stolen from him. That’s why you can’t do it. You shouldn’t do things that hurt others. That’s the rule."

"Hmm," Miura hummed, then suddenly started grinning.

"If it’s a rule, then this is just some game, right? In that case, I’ll quit. If I’m out, I don’t have to follow that rule."

"No, you have to. It’s something we all agreed on. If you don’t follow it, you won’t belong here anymore."

"Then I’ll go somewhere else."

Miura responded to everything with stubborn logic.

"There’s nowhere you can go. No place in the world will forgive a thief. You might as well die."

The word "die" made both of them freeze. Miura suddenly grew quiet. Kazuya was startled by his own use of the word "die." As they both sat in silence, they could hear the waves lapping against the tetrapods beneath them.

"It doesn’t matter, does it? As long as we don’t get caught, no one will get mad at us…" Miura’s voice lacked its usual confidence.

"No, it does matter," Kazuya insisted.

"I don’t get what you’re saying, but I guess we should return it, right?" Miura asked.

Kazuya nodded, surprised that Miura was actually listening to him, even if it was the right thing to do.

They returned to the shop, but neither of them could bring themselves to go inside. Kazuya had no idea how to apologize for stealing the eraser. He didn’t want to get scolded, especially not for something Miura had done. Although it was good that he had convinced Miura to return the eraser and had spoken up boldly… now he was stuck.

In the end, Kazuya decided to go home, get his allowance, and return to the shop to give the old man 200 yen, pretending that they had "found it" inside the store. This covered the cost of both erasers. The old man, who had been scrutinizing the boys with sharp eyes, suddenly softened and smiled.

"Thank you. Even if you found it in the store, it might not have been mine—it could have been dropped by another customer. But since you brought it back honestly, here’s a little something for you."

He returned the money to Kazuya, who left the shop feeling conflicted. The two 100-yen coins in his hand felt very heavy.

"Is it okay that you didn’t tell the truth?" Miura asked as soon as they left the store. Kazuya couldn’t answer. He felt awkward. The sun was already setting, painting everything in shades of orange. Kazuya just wanted to go home. When they reached a familiar road, he patted Miura on the shoulder.

"Bye."

With that, he ran straight home without looking back. Kazuya didn’t like Miura. He decided not to talk to him much anymore. He repeated this resolution over and over in his mind as he ran.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Thirteen Years Ago: Spring

The stiff collar of his school uniform made Kazuya feel uncomfortable, so he loosened it while waiting for homeroom to start. A single pale pink petal drifted into the gap. When he looked up, he saw that the sky was hidden by the fully bloomed cherry blossoms. From behind the building’s shadow, he saw someone dash out. It was Miura, running fast, crushing the cherry blossoms underfoot as he skidded to a stop, breathing heavily.

"We’re in different classes again this year. Did you see? You’re in 3-HR, and I’m in 4-HR. It sucks that we’re not in the same class for our last year of middle school. We were only in the same class in the first year. But at least our classes are next to each other, and we have gym together, so it’s not so bad. I’ll come to your class during break."

Kazuya smiled vaguely and looked down, pretending to be disappointed. In truth, he had already checked the class assignments before Miura and had felt a deep sense of relief when he saw they were in different classes. Class assignments were crucial—they determined how your entire year would go. Kazuya was truly relieved when he found out he wouldn’t be in the same class as Miura. But of course, he couldn’t admit that to Miura or show any signs of it.

Miura’s bangs, which were so long they nearly covered his nose, swayed with each breath he took. No matter how often the teachers scolded him, he refused to cut them. His uniform was always messy, and he didn’t care about wearing dirty clothes. His collar was never properly fastened, and his shirt was always half unbuttoned. Miura never stopped being the "bad example."

"We were lucky to be in the same class even for one year. Out of all the kids who came from Sakurada Elementary, it was only you and Onodera who ended up in the same class as me. Oh, and Onodera’s in my class again this year."

At the mention of Onodera, Miura’s eyebrow twitched.

"You’ve liked that guy since elementary school, haven’t you? You must be happy to be in the same class with him again this year."

Kazuya laughed inwardly at Miura’s simplistic thinking. He knew exactly what Miura wanted to hear in this situation. So, he crossed his arms dramatically and looked Miura straight in the eye, as if he were sulking.

"Yeah, but I’m really disappointed not to be in the same class as you, Miura. It’s never boring when we’re together."

Miura’s slightly annoyed expression brightened instantly, like a light bulb flickering on. "Really? Really?" he repeated, playfully nudging Kazuya’s shoulder. He smiled shyly.

"You’re a strange one, being friends with a guy like me. Do you know what everyone calls us? They say we’re a mismatched pair."

Kazuya found the term "mismatched pair" extremely unpleasant.

"I’ve heard that before."

"It’s so unfair, isn’t it?"

Miura looked happy even as he said it was terrible. A breeze blew by, as if reflecting the state of Kazuya’s heart. Miura squinted slightly against the strong wind, his hair shining brown in the sunlight. Maybe he had lightened it even more over the break. He never missed a chance to annoy the teachers. To be honest, Kazuya didn’t care whether Miura was liked or disliked by the teachers. It didn’t matter to him.

Thinking it was about time, Kazuya glanced at his watch and slowly spoke.

“We should head to class. Homeroom is about to start.”

Miura lifted his head and smiled at Kazuya, a smile that reminded him of a dog. Kazuya forced a small smile in return.

“If we don’t hurry, we’ll both be late on the first day of the new school year.”

“Yeah, see you later,” Miura said, patting his “best friend” on the shoulder before running off ahead. Kazuya watched his childhood friend, whom he could never really like, disappear behind the fluttering cherry blossoms.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

More than half of the faces in the classroom were familiar. As soon as Kazuya entered, the chime rang, and he hurried to check the seating chart on the teacher’s desk.

“Kazuya, over here,” a familiar face waved at him from the middle of the second row from the right.

“Your seat’s right next to mine,” Onodera said.

Kazuya quickly sat in the empty seat next to Onodera.

“They assigned seats by alphabetical order again. It’s so basic,” Onodera said, stretching his arms behind his head and letting out a big yawn, even though it was still morning.

“They did the same thing last year,” Kazuya replied.

“No point complaining about it. Well, here’s to another year together.”

“Yeah, it feels like we’re tied together by fate,” Kazuya said, with a hint of nostalgia. Onodera glanced at him sideways.

“I didn’t think we’d end up in the same class again in our third year. We’re lucky.”

“I’m glad it’s you, Onodera. I was nervous about ending up in the same class as Miura.”

Onodera scanned the room and lowered his voice.

“Better keep it down… you never know when he might overhear.”

“I don’t care,” Kazuya replied.

Onodera sighed and scratched his head. He was the only person Kazuya could confide in. Trustworthy and tight-lipped, Onodera was the one person Kazuya could be honest with. He was truly a best friend. Since transferring to the same elementary school in fourth grade, Miura had always been around Kazuya. Kazuya never understood why Miura was so attached to him, but Miura always wanted to be by his side.

Kazuya didn’t want to be around Miura, whose moods were erratic and whose temper was violent, but he was too scared of Miura’s aggression to clearly say that he didn’t like him. Plus, at the time, Kazuya was still faithfully following the teachers’ mantra of “get along with everyone.”

By not rejecting Miura’s advances, Kazuya unwittingly made Miura believe that Kazuya liked him. Before he knew it, Miura was constantly by his side, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The stress of pretending to be close with someone he truly disliked grew with each passing day. The only outlet for this stress was Onodera. Onodera’s mindset was similar to Kazuya’s, and being with him brought a sense of comfort and understanding.

“He said he’s going to come to my class during break. It’s such a pain, but I only have to endure it for one more year,” Kazuya said.

“Is that so?” Onodera tilted his head.

“I’m thinking of going to Saginuma High School.”

“Saginuma…”

Saginuma High was a prestigious school in the prefecture, known for its difficult entrance exams. Only two or three students from their middle school passed the exams each year. Kazuya’s grades were among the best in his class, and his teachers had told him that if he worked hard this year, he had a good chance of getting in. But Kazuya wasn’t aiming for Saginuma because it was a prestigious school—he chose it to distance himself from Miura. Miura’s grades were so low that he didn’t stand a chance of getting in, which was the real reason Kazuya made this decision. Otherwise, he would have been fine attending the local public high school.

“If I go there, I’ll have to live in a dorm, so it’ll naturally create some distance,” Kazuya explained.

Onodera shrugged.

“I know you’ve never really liked Miura, but don’t you think he’s changed recently? He’s more reasonable, and he doesn’t get into fights as often.”

“He’s still selfish and violent. Not to mention, he’s dumb.”

Onodera frowned slightly.

“If he heard you say that, he’d stay far away from you in no time.”

“I could say it, but then I’d be scared of what might happen afterward. You never know what Miura might do.”

“He might get mad, but I don’t think he’d do anything too serious. He’d probably just leave you alone.”

Onodera leaned in and peered at Kazuya’s face.

“Maybe, deep down, you kind of enjoy the attention, feeling superior because he likes you so much?”

Kazuya was taken aback by the unexpected comment. Onodera quickly apologized, “Sorry, that was a bit harsh.”

“I never really understood why Miura was so fixated on you, but lately, I think I’m starting to get it. You’re a good guy, Kazuya. I don’t mean that in a bad way. You follow the rules, you’re polite, and the teachers like you. I think Miura respects that about you because he’s the kind of guy who just can’t fit into the mold. He probably envies you for being able to do things the ‘right’ way.”

Kazuya was puzzled at the thought of being respected by Miura.

“You know, he’s pretty popular with girls.”

“What?” Kazuya was surprised.

“I mean, he’s not smart and has a scary look in his eyes, but he’s got a decent face and he’s tall. A lot of girls have asked him out, but he turns them all down.”

“Really…”

Miura had never mentioned being confessed to by anyone. It bothered Kazuya a little that Onodera knew something he didn’t, even though he was closer to Miura. But maybe it just meant that Kazuya didn’t pay much attention to Miura’s personal life.

“Do you know why he turns them down? He says, ‘I only need one person I really care about.’ And that person is probably you.”

“Me? That’s ridiculous.”

“But I don’t know anyone else closer to Miura than you. Do you?”

“I have no idea. What’s this about only needing one person? It’s a huge inconvenience. If there’s a girl out there who likes a guy as rough as him, he should go get close to her and leave me alone.”

“Miura’s pretty popular with the guys too. Sure, he does some impulsive things, but he’s got principles. But he doesn’t really pay attention to anyone but you. If you really hate Miura and want to distance yourself from him, you should tell him the truth. He might go make other friends, and you’d be rid of him. It’d be a win-win.”

Onodera spoke as if he were trying to convince Kazuya of something, which struck him as strange. Kazuya pondered the meaning of the word "superiority" that Onodera had used earlier. He didn’t intend to feel superior; he was the victim here. So why did Onodera think that? There must have been something that made Onodera feel that way. Was it because Kazuya often badmouthed Miura? Or was it something else…?

Before he could analyze Onodera’s words, Kazuya focused on finding the right words to navigate the situation.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ve been thinking about it too. Maybe it’s better for Miura if I teach him that some people just don’t get along.”

Onodera smiled with relief.

“I knew you’d understand if I talked to you. I was debating whether to bring it up, but I’m glad I did. If Miura tries to hit you after you tell him the truth, I’ll back you up.”

“We’d both end up getting beaten,” Kazuya replied, and they both laughed. Just then, the new homeroom teacher walked into the classroom, five minutes late, and Onodera quickly turned to face the front. As Kazuya listened to the teacher’s greeting, he thought about how he would tell Miura that he didn’t want to be friends anymore. The mere thought of it made his temples throb with the stress of the situation.

Kazuya glared at Onodera with a hint of resentment. He could have just let things be, but instead, he’d pushed Kazuya toward an even more complicated outcome. But Kazuya couldn’t go against Onodera’s advice; he didn’t want to lose Onodera’s friendship.

It was shaping up to be a troublesome start to the new school year.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

It was a tiny sound, just a small noise. Kazuya blinked several times, trying to shake off his drowsiness, and rubbed his eyes roughly with the back of his hand. He reached out and pulled his alarm clock close to his face. As he suspected, it was still only 3 a.m. The noise came again, a tapping on the south-facing window. Kazuya’s room was on the second floor of the house, and he knew there was only one person who would knock on his window at this hour.

If he pretended to be asleep, the knocking would probably continue indefinitely. Sighing with frustration, he got out of bed. When he opened the curtains, a large shadow was cast by the moonlight outside. The figure behind the window grinned as the curtain parted. Internally cursing the person for being so inconsiderate, Kazuya let out a small sigh, careful not to reveal his annoyance.

“Open up,” Miura mouthed, tapping the window lightly. Kazuya had no choice but to unlock the window and open it. Miura slipped in quickly, like a cat, and immediately flopped onto the bed where Kazuya had been sleeping moments earlier.

“Ah, this feels nice. You were really asleep; the bed’s still warm,” Miura said.

“Yeah, until a certain someone came knocking,” Kazuya replied, letting a hint of anger creep into his voice. In this situation, it was okay to show a little anger—after all, Miura was the one at fault. But Miura just grinned, unfazed. Kazuya was too exasperated to say anything more. When he reached to turn on the light, Miura quickly stopped him.

“Don’t turn on the light. If your family wakes up, it’ll be a hassle.”

“Oh, right,” Kazuya said.

For a while, Miura took over the bed, rolling around and wrapping himself in the blanket. Kazuya wondered what on earth Miura had come for at this hour, but he didn’t ask. He knew that even though Miura was smiling, he was in a bad mood and wouldn’t say anything if he didn’t want to talk.

“Wanna go to the beach?” Miura suddenly asked, looking up at Kazuya.

“Right now?”

“We can’t talk here.”

“But…”

Kazuya couldn’t understand why Miura wanted to go to the beach in the middle of the night. They could talk at school the next day, during the day. Why couldn’t Miura consider how inconvenient this was for him? Couldn’t he at least be a little more considerate? Didn’t he have any common sense? But Kazuya couldn’t say any of this out loud, so he tried to find a subtle excuse.

“My bike has a flat tire. I can’t ride it.”

It was a lie.

“Then you can ride on the back of mine. It’s got a footrest.”

“...Can’t we wait until morning?”

Miura was insistent, and Kazuya felt a sliver of his true feelings slip out.

“No, it has to be now. Absolutely now,” Miura said firmly, leaving no room for negotiation.

“...Fine, I’ll get dressed.”

Resigned, Kazuya reluctantly changed into jeans and a shirt. Even though it was early spring, just wearing a shirt seemed too cold, so he threw on a jacket over it. When he turned around, he saw that Miura was only wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, a little,” Miura said, lightly rubbing his shoulders. Kazuya pulled a cardigan out of his closet and handed it to Miura.

“Here, wear this.”

“Okay,” Miura said, obediently putting it on. Then he started to climb out the window again, and Kazuya hurriedly stopped him.

“Let’s go out the front door.”

“Don’t be stupid. If your mom catches us, she’ll definitely say something. I’m banned from coming to your house, remember?”

“But I don’t have any shoes.”

Miura looked at Kazuya’s feet, which were only covered by socks.

“You can wear one of my shoes. Just deal with it.”

“...”

“Come on, let’s go.”

Reluctantly, Kazuya followed Miura out the window. It was the middle of the night, and despite the moon being out, it was dark. Miura moved nimbly across the roof like a cat, while Kazuya carefully followed behind, step by step. Once they finally climbed down, Miura took off running, and Kazuya had no choice but to chase after him. About ten meters (33 ft) away from the house, they found a bike parked in an empty lot. Miura got on it and signaled for Kazuya to get on with a nod.

Why am I doing this? Kazuya thought, frustrated. He didn’t want to consider Miura a friend or even a best friend. But under Miura’s urging gaze, he reluctantly placed his feet on the bike’s footrest.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

In less than five minutes of pedaling, they arrived at the beach. They propped the bike against the seawall and walked down to the shore. As expected, there was no one else around. In the darkness beyond the black waves, the lights of fishing boats dotted the horizon.

It hurt to walk with only a sock on one foot. This part of the coast was deeply indented, so a lot of trash washed up here. The debris formed layers, resembling the shape of the waves, making the beach far from clean.

Miura sat down near the water’s edge, and Kazuya reluctantly sat next to him. The only sound was the loud, steady rhythm of the waves crashing. Miura picked up a small stone, no bigger than a fingertip, and threw it into the sea.

“Yesterday really shocked me. Do you know why?” Miura suddenly spoke.

Kazuya wondered if Miura had somehow overheard his conversation with Onodera yesterday morning. But there hadn’t been anyone around who knew them, so it seemed unlikely. Unsure, Kazuya gave a vague answer.

“Because we’re not in the same class?”

Miura whipped around to face him, startling Kazuya with his sudden movement. Miura looked just as surprised.

“Yeah, that’s right. I was really upset because I thought we’d be in the same class this year. I seriously wish I could trade places with Onodera. But there’s nothing we can do about it. It’s not like we get to choose.”

Miura’s voice was tinged with melancholy.

“So I’ve been thinking… what high school are you going to apply to?”

Kazuya's heart skipped a beat, but then he realized this was a good opportunity. The day would come when Miura would inevitably ask him about his future plans, and it might as well be now.

"I’m thinking of going to Saginuma High School," Kazuya said.

"Saginuma? Isn’t that a top school in the city? What are you thinking?" Miura’s voice rose in agitation. Kazuya was glad they weren’t having this conversation at home.

"I’ve made up my mind. It’s a challenging school, and I want to go to a good university," Kazuya explained.

Even in the weak moonlight, he could see Miura’s expression clearly. It wasn’t surprising that Miura looked devastated—he had been upset enough about not being in the same class. Saginuma was a school that Miura couldn’t get into, even if he had three times his current academic ability. That was exactly why Kazuya had chosen it.

"That’s a private school, and the tuition is expensive. Plus, if you leave, your aunt will be all alone," Miura argued.

You’re the one who’s lonely, Kazuya thought, glancing at Miura, who was gripping his wrist and shaking it in frustration. Kazuya lowered his gaze.

"Saginuma has a scholarship program. Even if I don’t get a scholarship, my mom said I don’t need to worry about the money. There’s a dormitory there, and it’s a good environment for studying. My mom has already given me her permission."

"Do you really have to go? Is there no other option?" Miura asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

Kazuya nodded, and Miura let go of his arm and hung his head, cradling it in his hands. Kazuya didn’t care what was going on in Miura’s mind, but he didn’t want to stay out on this cold beach any longer. He exaggerated a sneeze to prompt Miura to look up.

"Are you cold?" Miura asked.

"A little," Kazuya replied, sniffling for effect. Miura took off the cardigan he was wearing and offered it to Kazuya.

"Here, wear this."

"No, you must be cold too. Let’s just go home," Kazuya said.

"I’m fine," Miura insisted, but he was visibly shivering as he stood there in just his T-shirt.

"Let’s talk a bit more. I’m working a part-time job now, so I only have time during breaks or lunch. We’ve been missing each other a lot lately, so we haven’t had much time to talk," Miura explained.

"Isn’t working against school rules?" Kazuya asked, trying to steer the conversation.

Miura let out a small laugh. "Do you think my old man gives me an allowance? He barely covers the household expenses. We’re living off welfare, and it’s not much. I have to work secretly to get by."

Kazuya knew that Miura’s mother had died during childbirth and that he had lived alone with his father ever since. His father had been left wheelchair-bound after a car accident a few years ago. Kazuya was aware that Miura wasn’t well off, but he hadn’t realized things were so dire that Miura had to work.

Kazuya draped the cardigan over Miura’s shoulders. Miura tilted his head.

"Aren’t you cold?" Miura asked.

"Not anymore. Besides, you look colder," Kazuya replied. Miura smiled, a sad, tearful smile. Kazuya swallowed hard, worried that Miura might actually cry.

"If I start working really hard now, do you think I could get into Saginuma High?" Miura asked hesitantly.

There’s no way, Kazuya thought. Not even a miracle could make that happen. But he didn’t say it outright.

"It’s not impossible," Kazuya offered, though he knew the chances were slim.

"Not impossible, huh?" Miura repeated.

"If you’re going, I want to go too," Miura said earnestly.

There was no way Miura could manage it. It would be better for him not to try. Did Miura even realize how bad his grades were? He was consistently at the bottom of the class. And didn’t he just say that his family was struggling financially? How could he afford a private school? These thoughts ran through Kazuya’s mind, but he didn’t voice them.

"If I said I was going to study like my life depended on it, would you help me?" Miura asked.

It would be a waste of time. Who would help him with his studies? But Kazuya smiled, as he always did.

"Sure, I’ll help," Kazuya said.

"It’s childish, but I don’t want to be apart from you. I know we’ll have to go our separate ways someday, but I’m not ready yet…" Miura confessed, gripping the hem of Kazuya’s jacket tightly.

"I think I’ll be able to be on my own when I grow up a bit more. I know I’m being pathetic and causing you trouble, like dragging you out in the middle of the night. But you never get mad at me, so I can’t help but rely on you. I’m getting too comfortable with it," Miura admitted.

If Miura understood himself that well, why didn’t he try to do something about it?

"…There are a lot of people who care about you, Miura. You should get closer to other people too," Kazuya suggested.

Miura lifted his head.

"I’ve heard you get a lot of confessions from girls," Kazuya said.

"Who told you that?" Miura’s expression changed, and a chill ran down Kazuya’s spine. It reminded him of when they were in elementary school, of the violent streak Miura used to show. He hadn’t seen that side of Miura in a long time, which made it all the more frightening now.

"Who…? I can’t remember," Kazuya stammered.

"Was it Onodera?" Miura pressed.

Kazuya knew that if he confirmed it, Miura might run off and try to confront Onodera. To avoid that, he quickly changed the subject.

"I forgot. And it doesn’t matter who told me. It’s not like it’s something you’d want to keep secret from me, right?"

"Well… yeah," Miura mumbled.

Kazuya knew he couldn’t give Miura time to think.

"I can’t always be around, Miura. That’s why you should start getting close to other people."

Miura clicked his tongue in frustration and lowered his gaze.

"You’re so detached, Kazuya. I feel like if I got close to someone else, you’d drift away from me. I’m always the one who has to invite you to hang out. Sometimes I think you don’t really care about me at all," Miura said.

"There’s always a chance that I could die tomorrow," Kazuya said quietly.

Miura visibly flinched at the statement.

"It’d be lonely if you were all alone, wouldn’t it?" Kazuya continued.

"Then you just need to live a long life," Miura replied.

"I want to," Kazuya said.

"If only you were a girl," Miura muttered, glaring at his close friend.

"If you were a girl, I’d know exactly how to keep you by my side," Miura added.

Kazuya could easily guess what Miura was thinking. The idea was disgusting. Even if he were a girl, he would never want to be with someone like Miura. No matter how good-looking or tall Miura might become, the image of the rough, violent child he had been would never leave Kazuya’s mind. Onodera claimed that Miura had mellowed out, but Kazuya didn’t agree. Miura’s true nature hadn’t changed; it was just buried beneath the surface.

No matter how much Miura grew physically, his cheap sense of possessiveness remained unchanged. What a fool, Kazuya thought. Miura didn’t understand how his words hurt others or what Kazuya really thought. He was hopelessly insensitive.

"Let’s go home," Kazuya said.

"Yeah," Miura replied, standing up slowly. The darkness in the eastern sky had begun to lighten a little.

"Sorry for dragging you out here," Miura muttered, brushing sand off his clothes.

"Don’t worry about it," Kazuya replied lightly. As much as he was fed up with Miura, he knew he could endure it for just one more year.

"Let’s head back before we catch a cold."

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Twelve Years Ago: Spring

Miura had been restless even before they boarded the train. Even after taking his seat, he kept fidgeting, shifting his position repeatedly. Watching him made Kazuya feel itchy just sitting there. Miura kept pulling out his exam ticket and staring at the number on it. Unable to stand it any longer, Onodera spoke up.

"I understand you're nervous, but try to sit still for a bit," Onodera said.

"Shut up! Stay quiet!" Miura snapped at him.

"I'm serious about this. I worked really hard for this, and today will decide my next three years," Miura continued, his voice filled with tension.

It's already decided... Kazuya thought to himself. Miura had worked hard over the past year, and his grades had improved to somewhere around the upper-middle of the class, surprising even the teachers. No one had expected him to come this far.

But there were limits. As expected, Miura had never been able to get within the passing range for his first-choice school during the mock exams. Even though the teachers acknowledged Miura's efforts, they still looked concerned, often saying, "But still..." His goal was too ambitious. It was unlikely he would pass.

"Miura," Kazuya called out.

Miura turned to him.

"You really gave it your all," Kazuya said.

Miura managed a small, strained smile. "Yeah, I did. I knew it was a long shot from the beginning, so I have no regrets."

This is the end of it all, Kazuya thought, feeling a mix of relief and joy. He lowered his head to hide his expression and let out a quiet chuckle.

They arrived at Saginuma High School a bit early, so the results hadn’t been posted yet. The wooden board at the entrance still didn’t have the paper with the successful applicants' numbers.

The entrance was already crowded with students and their families, eagerly awaiting the results. It wasn’t long before a man, presumably a school staff member, came out of the entrance with a rolled-up paper in hand. A buzz of excitement ran through the crowd as people gathered in front of the board. Miura rushed forward, being the first to approach.

The homeroom teacher had assured Miura that he would be fine, and Miura had felt good about the test when he took it. Still, Kazuya couldn’t shake his anxiety, and he clutched the good luck charm his mother had given him that morning in his coat pocket.

When Kazuya found his number, he felt more relieved than happy. He looked over at Onodera, who gave him a clumsy wink. Both of them had passed.

"We did it," they said, smiling at each other.

"But it looks like Miura's number isn't on the board," Onodera said, standing on his tiptoes to peek at the board. Kazuya had checked his own number and then immediately looked for Miura's, but it wasn’t there. As expected, Kazuya let out a quiet sigh of relief. Miura kept comparing his number to the list on the board over and over again.

The numbers before and after Miura’s were listed, but Miura’s wasn’t there.

"I failed," Miura muttered, standing frozen in place. Did he really think he would pass? How arrogant, how deluded, Kazuya thought. Still, he knew that as Miura’s "best friend," he had to offer some comfort. The act of being kind was almost over. Kazuya slowly approached Miura, who hadn’t moved from in front of the board.

"I'm sorry you didn’t make it. But you really worked hard, and I know that better than anyone," Kazuya said, gently placing a hand on Miura’s shoulder.

"Yeah…" Miura wiped his eyes with his hand, then suddenly hugged Kazuya tightly, pressing his face into Kazuya’s shoulder. As Kazuya patted Miura’s back, he glanced around and saw that the area was full of people, some crying, others celebrating. Then he felt someone grab his shoulder roughly. It was Onodera, with a strange, bewildered expression.

"Look over there," Onodera said.

"Get lost!" Miura growled, keeping his face buried in Kazuya’s shoulder.

But Onodera didn’t let go of Kazuya's shoulder and continued, "There’s a list of waitlisted candidates over there. I think Miura’s number is on it."

"It wasn’t there!" Miura snapped, ready to lash out.

"There’s a separate list for waitlisted candidates. Miura’s number was 1129, right?"

"That… can’t be…" someone whispered, though it wasn’t clear who. Miura said nothing, but he grabbed Kazuya’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

"I’m going to check," Miura said, running toward the waitlist board. Kazuya and Onodera stood there, watching Miura's back as he ran off. Onodera let out a breath of surprise.

"Saginuma usually takes about twenty students off the waitlist each year. And Miura's number was pretty high on the list, so he’ll probably get in. It’s incredible… It’s true that hard work pays off."

This has to be a joke. How can this be happening? Kazuya thought, his face tensing with disbelief.

"Hey, Kazuya, are you okay?" Onodera asked, looking into his face.

"This is the worst… the absolute worst," Kazuya muttered.

Miura, who had been silent until now, suddenly let out a loud cry of excitement from in front of the waitlist board and came running back with incredible speed. Without a care for the people around him, he hugged Kazuya again, this time with even more force.

"I found it! My number’s on the waitlist. I’m in! We can be together at Saginuma!"

Kazuya felt dizzy, and as Miura's weight bore down on him, he stumbled and fell, landing awkwardly on the ground. But Miura didn’t loosen his grip.

"It feels like a dream, a real dream. I got in! I actually got in!" Miura exclaimed.

It took a moment for Miura to notice that something was wrong with Kazuya.

"Kazuya, what’s wrong?"

Even though he felt like all the strength had drained from his body, Kazuya managed to muster the energy to lie.

"Oh, it’s nothing… I’m just so happy and surprised that I feel a bit lightheaded," he said.

Miura didn’t doubt Kazuya’s words for a second.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Kazuya couldn’t remember how he got back to his room. He vaguely recalled going to a McDonald’s near the station to celebrate their acceptance. Miura was overly excited, and his boisterous voice grated on Kazuya’s nerves. Onodera looked displeased, but he tried to smile as he sat between his two friends.

The next thing Kazuya knew, he was alone, sitting on his bed, staring blankly ahead. Was he really going to end up attending Saginuma High School with Miura? If he moved into the dorm, would Miura follow him there? If so, he’d be stuck in an even worse situation, sharing meals and sleeping quarters with Miura.

His vision darkened. Should he switch to another high school, even if it’s not as prestigious as Saginuma? But Miura had also passed the other school he had applied to. If Kazuya chose that school, Miura would undoubtedly follow.

Kazuya buried his head in his hands and collapsed onto the bed, desperately trying to think of a way to distance himself from Miura. But no good ideas came to mind. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he barely noticed the loud argument happening downstairs between his mother and aunt. When the house finally fell silent, there was a knock on his door. Kazuya didn’t respond—he didn’t have the energy. His mother cautiously opened the door, and seeing the room dark, she turned on the light.

"What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?" she asked.

"A little…" Kazuya replied weakly.

His mother sat down next to him on the bed.

"Congratulations on passing the Saginuma exam. You worked so hard, and I’m so proud of you. And Miura-kun got in too, right? You won’t be lonely even if you move into the dorm."

Lonely? More like miserable. It’s going to be unbearable, Kazuya thought.

"Kazuya, can you listen to something I want to talk about?"

Her serious tone made Kazuya look up.

"It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while now… I’ve decided to remarry," she said, catching Kazuya completely off guard. His eyes widened in shock.

"I'd like you to meet him sometime soon. His name is Naofumi, and he’s the owner of a restaurant in the city. He’s a bit older, but he’s kind and a good man. He lost his wife early on and doesn’t have any children. He said he’d love for us to come live with him as soon as possible, as long as we’re okay with it. But, Naofumi-san will be moving back to the Kansai region in the spring to the main branch of his restaurant. I want to go with him. I’d love for you to come with me, but since you worked so hard to get into Saginuma, I think it’s fine if you stay here and attend the school. I’ll leave that decision to you."

Kazuya had never heard anything about a remarriage before. He took several deep breaths to calm himself down, realizing that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to fully comprehend what his mother was saying.

"But…" his mother sighed softly, "Your aunt is against it. She says he’s too old. But I don’t care about that. I’m sure you’ll see that he’s a good person too."

So, his mother was planning to remarry and move to Kansai. Could this be his chance to leave here? Could he finally have a legitimate reason to distance himself from Miura?

"I’ll go to Kansai too," Kazuya said.

"Are you sure that’s what you want?" his mother asked.

"I want to go with you," Kazuya insisted.

He didn’t care if his mother’s new husband was old or if he didn’t know much about the man. The only thing on his mind was getting away from Miura.

‘I want to get away from Miura.’

That was all he could think about.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The cherry blossoms hadn’t bloomed yet on the day of the graduation ceremony. To avoid being noticed by Miura, Kazuya secretly called Onodera to a secluded spot behind the school building, away from prying eyes.

"What’s up? The ceremony’s about to start," Onodera said, tilting his head in confusion.

"Here," Kazuya handed him a piece of paper.

"What’s this?" Onodera asked, unfolding it.

"My mom is remarrying, and we’re moving to Kansai. I have to go with her. That’s my new address and phone number."

Onodera’s eyes widened in shock as he listened.

"You’re kidding! What about Saginuma?"

"I’m not going. I don’t have a choice," Kazuya said bluntly.

"Please don’t tell anyone about the address, especially not Miura."

"That’s…," Onodera trailed off, his drooping eyes looking even more sorrowful than usual.

"If anyone asks, just say you don’t know. It’s for the best—for both of us."

Onodera sighed deeply, repeating "That’s…" over and over before finally nodding with a sad expression.

"Okay, I won’t tell Miura. But… are you sure about this, Kazuya?"

"I’m sure."

Both of them fell silent, lowering their heads slightly. Onodera had been Kazuya’s closest friend since elementary school. Thinking about that made Kazuya suddenly feel nostalgic and sad.

"I don’t care much about Miura, but I’ll miss you, Onodera. You’ve always been my best friend."

"You idiot, same here," Onodera replied, extending his right hand. Kazuya grasped it firmly, feeling a swell of emotion in his chest and tears welling up in his eyes. He was grateful the graduation ceremony was today—no one would think it strange if his eyes were red.

The day after the graduation ceremony, Kazuya left the village where he had spent the past six years, fleeing with his mother and her new husband.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The meeting spot was at the last stop on the local train line. As Kazuya exited the rundown station, he saw a familiar figure waiting near the ticket booth. When the person spotted him, they broke into a smile and waved. Kazuya waved back energetically.

"Glad you made it," Onodera said as he approached, giving Kazuya’s shoulder a nostalgic pat.

"How does it feel to be back in your hometown after so long?" Onodera asked.

Kazuya shrugged, unsure how to answer. "Nothing’s changed. It’s almost eerie."

"Yeah, I guess it’s like that. I parked the car over there in the lot."

They walked side by side toward the parking lot.

"Have you eaten lunch yet? If not, we could stop by a place nearby," Onodera offered.

"I grabbed something at the transfer station," Kazuya replied.

"Alright, then let’s head to the hospital. It’s about a forty-minute drive."

"That far?" Kazuya asked, already feeling exhausted at the thought of another long journey after the train ride. Onodera chuckled.

"Yeah, there aren’t many general hospitals around here."

Even though it was a holiday, Onodera was dressed in a suit, having had some work to do in the morning. He wore it well, looking appropriately mature—a stark contrast to the younger Onodera who used to complain about how uncomfortable suits were. Noticing Kazuya’s gaze, Onodera furrowed his brow as he got into the car.

"Why are you staring at me? Don’t tell me you’re thinking about how old I’ve gotten."

"No, it’s just… it’s nostalgic. You haven’t changed much."

"Really? Well, buckle up," Onodera said, reminding Kazuya in his usual matter-of-fact way. Kazuya laughed lightly and fastened his seatbelt.

"You really have become a typical government employee. That plain tie is so on-brand, I’m at a loss for words," Kazuya teased.

Onodera clicked his tongue. "Yeah, I know. This tie is actually my girlfriend’s pick, and she gets annoyed if I don’t wear it. It’s a hassle, but I put up with it."

Despite often complaining about his girlfriend’s bad temper and selfishness, Kazuya could tell that Onodera was deeply in love with her.

"You should introduce her to me sometime," Kazuya said.

"Sure, just don’t tell her I said her tie choices are bad," Onodera warned.

"I won’t," Kazuya promised.

Talking with Onodera was fun. It made him realize how much he had missed these conversations, especially with the anxiety he felt about what was coming next. As they drove through the unfamiliar scenery, Kazuya asked, "Was there always a hospital along this coastline?"

"It was built just last year," Onodera explained.

The conversation lapsed into silence, and Kazuya found himself staring out at the passing scenery.

"I think it’s best if I tell you a bit about Miura before you see him," Onodera said, lighting a cigarette with one hand. The smell was different from the brand Kazuya was used to, a grassy scent that tickled his nose.

"First off, Miura’s on his own now. He got married at twenty-one but divorced within two years. He’s dated a few people since then, but none of those relationships lasted long. He doesn’t have a girlfriend right now."

Kazuya was surprised to learn that Miura had been married. When Kazuya had started university, he’d made it clear to Onodera that he didn’t want to hear anything about Miura. Onodera had respected that wish and never brought up Miura. The fact that he was talking about Miura so naturally now suggested that he believed Kazuya was no longer as concerned about him.

"Miura passed the entrance exam for Saginuma High School and attended with me, but he dropped out in his second year."

Onodera glanced at Kazuya, gauging his reaction.

"Do you want to know why?" Onodera asked.

"It doesn’t matter," Kazuya replied.

"Alright, I’ll tell you anyway. It all started when his father died," Onodera explained.

The implications were clear.

"He couldn’t keep up with the tuition payments, could he?" Kazuya guessed.

But Onodera shook his head.

"After Miura entered high school and moved into the dorms, his father lived alone at home. Occasionally, an aunt would come by to check on him. It was a Saturday, right before summer vacation, when I was talking to Miura about going to see a movie together, and then he got a call. He wasn’t too eager to go, but I urged him to hurry to the office. That night, Miura didn’t return to the dorm.

I found out the next day that his father had died. Apparently, while at home, his father had somehow managed to tip over a dresser, which fell on him along with his wheelchair. He was trapped underneath it and eventually died. The cause of death was unclear—whether it was starvation or the injuries from being trapped—but it seems he survived in that state for two or three days. By the time they found him, more than a week had passed since he’d died... and it was summer, so the body had already started to decompose. They only discovered him because a neighbor reported a strange smell. Miura was devastated. He blamed himself, saying that if he hadn’t gone to a city high school, none of this would have happened."

Kazuya’s heart pounded loudly. He could feel the blood coursing through his veins, especially in his fingertips. Onodera was making him feel guilty. He wouldn’t be telling him all of this otherwise—not such a story designed to evoke guilt. Onodera stubbed out his short cigarette in the ashtray.

"Even after the funeral, Miura didn’t return to school. He said he wanted to work. He was willing to give up the high school he worked so hard to get into, just like that. I tried my best to convince him to stay. His aunt had agreed to cover his tuition, and he was doing so well that he could have qualified for a scholarship if he wanted to."

Before even meeting Miura, Kazuya felt as if he were going through hell. Onodera’s story pierced his heart, each word like a needle driving deeper.

"No matter how much we tried to convince him, Miura’s mind was made up, and eventually, we had to give in. When we asked him if there was anything he wanted, Miura replied, ‘I don’t want anything, but there’s something I want to know.’ I asked him what that was, and he said, ‘Kazuya’s whereabouts.’ Honestly, I was startled. I thought he had found out that I was in contact with you. Maybe he had seen a package or something from you in my room.

So, I wrote down your address in my notebook right there. Miura watched closely and asked, ‘What’s that?’ I told him it was your address, tore out the page, and handed it to him. Then he got furious, demanding, ‘How do you know that?’ He grabbed me by the collar and punched me. That’s how I chipped my front tooth. Miura didn’t hold back. I realized then that he really didn’t know anything."

Onodera nonchalantly pointed to his front tooth, which had been perfectly repaired with no trace of the damage.

"Of course, he was mad. After all, I had been saying I didn’t know your whereabouts, and suddenly, I had a complete reversal. Miura had desperately searched for where you had gone when you disappeared. But when he hit me, I was so rattled and in pain that I blurted out something I shouldn’t have: ‘Kazuya asked me not to tell you.’

When Miura hesitated for a moment, I took the chance to run away, leaving the address behind. That same day, Miura left the dorm. The next time I saw him was after he had started working. We live in the same area, so I ran into him occasionally. Oddly enough, when he saw me, he acted like nothing had happened and greeted me as usual. I responded normally too. After that, we went drinking together a few times, but neither of us ever brought up your name."

Kazuya felt sick. Onodera noticed his pale face and quickly pulled the car over to the side of the road. Kazuya stumbled out of the car and vomited into the grass by the guardrail, expelling everything he had eaten for lunch.

"Sorry, I didn’t realize. I didn’t know you got car sick," Onodera said, concerned, gently rubbing Kazuya’s back as he coughed. The bitter taste of stomach acid lingered in Kazuya’s mouth, and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes.

"We’re almost there," Onodera said softly. "That white building you see up ahead—that’s the hospital."

"Can we rest for a bit?" Kazuya asked, his voice weak.

"Sure," Onodera replied.

Kazuya slumped back into the passenger seat and closed his eyes. His mind was in turmoil. He had planned to come up with an excuse for why he hadn’t seen Miura all these years—something about his mother’s remarriage being opposed by his aunt, or how everything had happened so suddenly. But nothing seemed like a solid reason, especially since Onodera had already spilled the truth. There was no way to cover it up now.

Onodera leaned against the steering wheel and muttered, "After Miura got sick, there was a really bad period when his condition deteriorated. He got really down on himself. When I visited him, I felt so sorry for him that I asked if there was anything he wanted. He just said, ‘I’d like to see Kazuya.’"

Why does he want to see me now? Kazuya wondered. If he were still a child, he might have bolted from the car and run away. But now, he felt like he was being dragged along to be judged by Miura—for being the root cause of his father’s tragic death, and for all the lies he had told since.

"I’m going to start driving again. Just hang in there a little longer," Onodera said.

Kazuya nodded weakly. As the car rattled along the rough road, he closed his eyes, wondering if he could still keep up the lie, even now. The thought made him smile bitterly at his own stubbornness. He had always lied for just one reason.

‘I hate Miura.’

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The building stood on a slope overlooking a secluded cove. Its sleek, white, modern design with many curves made it hard to tell it was a hospital at first glance.

As Kazuya stepped out of the car, a salty wind from the sea blew across his face. The parking lot, marked with white lines, crunched underfoot with grains of sand washed in from the beach.

"The wind is really strong today," Kazuya remarked.

"Yeah, it’s especially bad today. Leave a car out here too long, and it’ll rust in no time," Onodera muttered, squinting against the wind as he lit a cigarette. Kazuya retrieved the flowers they had brought for the visit from the back seat, knowing Miura’s diet was restricted due to his illness, leaving flowers as the only appropriate gift.

"His room is on the third floor, room 316," Onodera said.

"Aren’t you coming?" Kazuya asked, feeling a bit uneasy.

Onodera shook his head. "I’ll wait in the lobby. You two should talk in private."

What am I supposed to talk about with him? Kazuya thought. Whatever Miura has to say will surely be filled with resentment. But he couldn’t bring himself to ask Onodera to stay with him, even though he was dreading the encounter. He had to keep up the pretense that he was indifferent to Miura now.

"Are you sure? He might appreciate it if it’s more lively," Kazuya suggested, trying to deflect.

"Miura said he wanted to see you. I think there’s something he wants to tell you personally. I’ve already told him you’d be coming today, so he’s definitely waiting for you. You should go see him," Onodera said, giving Kazuya an encouraging push with his words. What nonsense about how time changes people. Kazuya hadn’t changed at all. The emotions he harbored toward Miura had remained exactly the same, still swirling and unresolved. Onodera waved him off, and Kazuya slowly began to walk forward. Just endure it for a bit, he told himself. It’s only ten or fifteen minutes of discomfort. If he could hold out that long, he could end this relationship for good... or at least, he hoped.

Room 316 was a four-person ward. Kazuya stopped outside the door, checking the nameplate. Miura’s name was listed second from the top.

It had been twelve years. Should his first words be "Hello"? Or maybe "Long time no see"? He kept stalling, clinging to these trivial decisions as an excuse not to walk through the door.

"Are you here to visit someone?" A voice startled him, and he stepped back from the doorway.

"Uh, sorry, you can go ahead," he said, trying to be polite. The man who had spoken was young, with short bangs, tall and thin. He didn’t enter the room right away but instead looked at Kazuya, studying him intently before smiling gently.

"Aren’t you Kazuya?"

There was something familiar about the way the man said his name. Could this be Miura? Kazuya racked his memory. Did Miura look like this back then?

"It’s me, Keiichi Miura. I guess it’s no wonder you don’t recognize me—it’s been twelve years. Have I changed that much?"

The man standing in front of him was nothing like the fifteen-year-old Miura Kazuya remembered. This was a Miura who had lived through twelve years Kazuya knew nothing about.

While Kazuya stood there, unable to speak, Miura gave a wry smile. "You look surprised. But I recognized you right away. You haven’t changed a bit."

"Is that so?" Kazuya finally managed to force out the words, though his mind was in turmoil, and he couldn’t think of a coherent response. Seeing this, Miura scratched his head awkwardly.

"There’s a courtyard down the hall. Let’s go there. We can’t really talk in the room since there are people sleeping." Miura led the way down the corridor. The hospital gown he was wearing looked too short for his tall frame, making him appear almost awkward. As they walked past nurses and other patients who seemed to know him, Miura greeted them casually. Kazuya was still reeling from the shock of seeing how different Miura was, how unlike the Miura he remembered.

The courtyard was enclosed by glass-walled corridors. It was windless inside, with a small fountain in the center and benches arranged around it. Miura sat down on one of the benches and gestured for Kazuya to do the same. Kazuya handed over the bouquet of flowers he had bought. Miura’s face lit up with genuine happiness at the sight of the simple gift.

"When I asked Onodera to get in touch with you, I didn’t really expect you to come. I was half-convinced you wouldn’t. So when he called yesterday and said you were coming, it really surprised me. I rushed to get my hair cut because it was such a mess, but maybe that was a mistake—seems like you didn’t even recognize me."

Kazuya had effectively erased Miura from his memory. Only the name "Miura" remained in his mind, carrying all the unpleasantness that came with it.

"I heard you’re working as a teacher now. How’s that going? I bet today’s students are a handful," Miura said, shifting the conversation to small talk. It felt bizarre to Kazuya to be discussing mundane things with Miura like this.

"It’s not too bad. It’s a good school, so the students are pretty well-behaved."

The peaceful atmosphere made Kazuya uneasy. He braced himself, waiting for Miura to unleash a barrage of accusations against him. It was only a matter of time.

"I ended up dropping out of high school, you know," Miura continued. "Even after you and Onodera helped me so much with my studies. I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused."

"Why did you drop out?" Kazuya asked.

"Well… I guess it just wasn’t a good fit for me. But I’m glad I did. I hated studying anyway, and I was always better at physical work."

Miura didn’t mention his father. Kazuya had expected the topic to come up as the reason for Miura’s dropout, but it didn’t. It was as if Miura was deliberately avoiding it. Was he being considerate? Could it be that Miura was the one trying to spare Kazuya’s feelings?

"How’s your father doing?" Kazuya asked, stepping right into the subject himself. Miura’s expression darkened for a moment.

"Oh, you didn’t know. He passed away… in an accident."

It was technically true—it was an accident. Kazuya was glad he had already heard the story from Onodera; otherwise, he would have never understood what Miura was truly feeling. Miura was the one being considerate now, not Kazuya. It was the opposite of how things used to be, and it was even more unnerving than if Miura had just lashed out at him.

"I’m sorry I didn’t let you know when I moved. Back then, I just…" Kazuya began, trying to apologize.

"Let’s not talk about that," Miura cut him off sharply but with a smile. "Let’s just leave it at that, okay? We’ve both moved on. Let’s talk about something else. Hey, do you remember Tanaka? We were all in elementary school together. Guess what she’s doing now. She’s a news anchor at the local TV station. I always thought she was talkative, so I guess it’s the perfect job for her. You should check out the 6 o’clock news sometime. It’s hilarious watching her put on this serious face and deliver the news."

Kazuya couldn’t understand what Miura was thinking. Miura noticed his silence and tilted his head.

"You haven’t said much. I’ve been doing all the talking. You were never much of a talker, but is something wrong? Or are you in a hurry? I don’t want to keep you if you’ve got somewhere to be."

Miura kept talking about everything except the things that really mattered. But the subjects he avoided were the most important, at least to Kazuya.

Suddenly, Miura grabbed Kazuya’s chin, startling him. Miura leaned in, inspecting Kazuya’s face closely, then pinched his cheek in a childlike manner. Kazuya’s face must have looked as squished as a mochi.

"What a weird face," Miura said with a grin. "You should say something if it hurts."

Kazuya couldn’t say anything. His cheek did hurt, but he couldn’t find the words. He pushed Miura’s hand away. Tears began to fall onto the back of his clenched fist, then onto his knees. Once they started, they wouldn’t stop.

Miura just watched. He said nothing, just sat there, watching his old friend cry.

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Comments

CheruMarch 20, 2025 at 6:36 PM
First of all thank you so much for translating Narise Konohara novels. She’s my favorite bl writer. Lastly I can’t help saying that Kazuya is a hypocrite. Miura was trouble and he could of course keep away from him but he shoudn’t have led him on like that and just tell him he didn’t like him outright

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