Second Serenade: Chapter 15

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The morning of the closing ceremony, Aketo felt awful. He had no appetite, so he skipped breakfast, only managing a cup of coffee before heading out. He knew exactly why he felt this way—he hadn’t slept properly in over a week. Every time he lay down, his mind would start racing, filling the darkness with unwanted thoughts.

He arrived at school just in time, with only a few minutes to spare. Most of the students were already filing into the auditorium for the ceremony. Tossing his bag onto his desk, he joined the crowd shuffling down the hall.

Once inside, the classes lined up in neat rows, and the closing ceremony began. The principal’s customary long-winded speech followed, dragging on for a full forty-five minutes. By the time it ended, Aketo’s head felt light, and his legs were beginning to give out.

When the ceremony finally concluded, the students surged toward the exits. Aketo lagged behind, weaving his way through the thinning crowd. He spotted his homeroom teacher, Fujisaki, up ahead, moving toward the exit. He was about to look away when he noticed Sunahara walking beside her.

Sunahara’s head, a bit shorter than most of the students around him, bobbed in and out of view as the crowd shifted. Aketo’s body moved before his mind caught up, following in Sunahara’s wake like a shadow.

Then, someone grabbed his arm, stopping him cold. He spun around and found himself face to face with Kakegawa.

“Hey, have you seen Sunahara-sensei? I need to talk to him.”

Aketo hesitated for a heartbeat, then gestured back toward the auditorium.

“He’s still inside.”

“Seriously? Damn it.”

Without another word, Kakegawa turned and fought his way back into the sea of students. Aketo didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty for misleading him. He turned back around and took off at a run, scanning the hallway for Sunahara’s retreating figure.

He caught up just outside the faculty room. Reaching out as far as he could, he grabbed Sunahara’s arm, yanking him back with enough force to make the teacher stumble three steps backward. Sunahara’s eyes widened in shock as he registered who had stopped him.

Aketo had no plan, no reason for chasing after him. His body had moved on its own, driven by a single, unshakable thought—this might be his last chance.

But now, standing here with Sunahara’s sleeve clutched in his trembling hand, he had no idea what to say. His mind went blank.

Sunahara’s expression shifted from surprise to irritation, his brows drawing together into a deep, sharp crease. The cold, questioning stare made Aketo’s chest tighten painfully. Sunahara shook him off roughly, but Aketo lunged forward and grabbed his arm again, this time squeezing even tighter.

“I’m sorry.”

The words slipped out before he even had time to think. Sunahara tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

He repeated it, his voice small and unsteady, head bowed low.

Someone bumped into him from behind.

“Oh, my bad,” said Tanaka, the physics teacher, barely glancing their way as he pushed past.

Thrown off balance, Aketo stumbled forward. His knees buckled, and he crumpled to the floor. He tried to push himself back up, but the moment he straightened his back, his vision went black. He could hear the murmur of concerned voices around him, but his eyes refused to focus.

The darkness swallowed him whole, and in his mind, he kept calling out, over and over, “Sensei… Sensei…” as he plummeted into the pitch-black void.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

When Aketo opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the stark white ceiling of the nurse’s office. Blinking slowly, he turned his head and noticed someone sitting beside the bed.

It was Sunahara.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

Aketo gave a small nod.

“Do you have a headache? Any nausea?”

He shook his head.

“You collapsed in front of the faculty room. Do you remember that?”

“Sort of…” he mumbled, unsure how much of it had been real and how much had blurred into the haze of his memories.

“Dr. Yoshida, the school physician, said it was probably anemia. You were out for about twenty minutes. It’s homeroom right now, but you don’t have to go. Just rest a bit longer.”

His voice was gentle. It shouldn’t have meant much, but it warmed Aketo all the same. He found himself staring at Sunahara’s face, trying to memorize every line and shadow.

Avoiding his gaze, Sunahara stood and reached for the white curtain that enclosed the bed. He pulled it aside, the fabric sliding softly along its track.

He’s leaving.

Aketo knew it, but he couldn’t find the words to stop him. Sunahara didn’t look back as he walked away, his retreating figure disappearing behind the curtain.

No tears came this time. It felt like he had run dry, like he had used up every last drop the other day. Aketo pulled the thin blanket over his head and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his mind blank.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Spring break began with a weight pressing down on his chest, a boundless, suffocating gloom. He spent his weekdays at cram school and his weekends holed up at home, mindlessly playing games or flipping through books. The hours dragged, blending into a gray, shapeless blur. He had plenty of free time, but the idea of asking Otomo to hang out didn’t even cross his mind.

Not that it mattered—she had gone back to her grandparents’ place in the countryside for the entire break.

The only routine he kept was his daily scan of the newspaper. And then, one morning, it happened.

There, in the staff transfer section, was Sunahara’s name.

He had been reassigned to a tiny high school he’d never even heard of before.

Aketo stared at the unfamiliar name, a hollow ache settling in his chest. Somehow, it felt like everything had come to an end.

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