Yahari Ore no Seishun Love Come wa Machigatte Iru - Volume 9 - Chapter 5

5

Shizuka Hiratsuka wishes them a good future.

The raindrops slid down the glass. The rain hadn’t stopped since morning, and it was still falling now in a cold drizzle.

I’d brought up Komachi’s entrance exams the other day when it was time for me to go, so maybe that was why Yukinoshita didn’t question me as I left the clubroom.

Someone must have left open a window, because the empty hallway floor was damp. I could hear the squeaking of my indoor shoes with every step.

There was one week left until Christmas.

Snow rarely falls in December in Chiba. I didn’t have to worry about a white Christmas. What I had to worry about was the black company I was heading off to now.

After leaving the school building, I headed straight for the community center.

Since it had been raining when I’d left home in the morning, I had commuted to school by train, transferring to the bus after that. In a warmer season, I would have taken my bicycle, even if it meant getting a little wet, but of course I didn’t want to get soaked in winter.

The barren trees made the path by the park feel quite a bit chillier.

Normally, it would have been a while longer before sunset, but the weather that day meant the sunlight was already fading.

Against this somber backdrop, the umbrella of the person walking in front of me was bright and colorful. It was a plastic one, decorated with an appealing flower design.

The owner of the umbrella was spinning it around as she walked, probably staving off boredom. Occasionally, golden hair would peek out from underneath.

From my view of her hair and back, it looked like that person was Isshiki.

She walked at a leisurely pace, so I caught up to her right away. When I came up beside her, she noticed me, tilting her umbrella to get a look at my face. “Oh, hi.”

“Hey.” I lightly raised my umbrella in reply. “You gonna buy snacks today?”

“No. It doesn’t look like there’s going to be a meeting today.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

As Isshiki said, there would be no meeting that day. The time had been allotted to a thorough examination of the ideas that had come up the day before, to consider whether they were realistic, as well as to come up with some compromise proposals. So that meant no need for food shopping. And inevitably, I wouldn’t be carrying that bag of snacks.

As I was pondering this, Isshiki peeked under my umbrella and gave me a wicked smile. “…Heh-heh-heh, too bad. You can’t try to earn points with me that way.”

“I know that’s not enough to earn anything.”

As we were having this stupid conversation, a somewhat large, inelegant, and plain plastic umbrella came over with a hurried pitter-patter. The hem of a skirt from Kaihin fluttered restlessly underneath it.

“Huh? It’s Isshiki-chan and Hikigaya.” The one calling out to us with her umbrella raised high was Orimoto.

“Hello!”

“Heya. Geez, I was just chatting with some friends, and I wound up running late.” As usual, Orimoto was acting familiar. She came right up by Isshiki’s side immediately, and they started a friendly chat. Of course, Isshiki never revealed any displeasure toward Orimoto’s behavior. She wore a beaming and affable smile as she accommodated her.

Watching from the side, I walked through the rain.

When it seemed they’d run out of things to talk about, Isshiki seemed to suddenly remember something. “That reminds me—you two knew each other before, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, we went to the same middle school,” Orimoto replied.

Isshiki glanced at us. “So even he had friends, huh?”

Could you not react like that? It makes me uncomfortable.

It seemed Orimoto felt the same way, though, and she looked like she didn’t quite know how to reply. “Friends? Well, hmm…sort of, I guess.”

Isshiki must have sensed something off about Orimoto’s vague reply, and she pounced, eyes sparkling. “What, what?! That’s a meaningful-sounding way to say it.”

Orimoto made an oh nooo face and looked at me.

But she really had no choice but to reply. Orimoto and I had never exactly been friends, so it made sense for her to answer vaguely.

But Isshiki wouldn’t overlook this opportunity. With a grin, she tug-tugged at my sleeve. “Heeey, come on, what’s up?”

Stop it, don’t tug it, our hands touched a little and, like, it was soft, and I don’t want to keep thinking about it, so don’t!

I bet it was a strategy for the sake of rattling me. I was weakened by Isshiki’s persistent, pestering attack, and in the process of avoiding her hand, I let it slip. “Well, stuff happened, a long time ago…”

“Stuff…” Isshiki repeated that word, and this time, she turned to Orimoto.

Pressed for a reply, Orimoto got stuck. “Uhhh,” she said, then covered it with a laugh. “Ah-ha-ha, well, it was a long time ago.” Her answer was a little surprising. I’d thought for sure Orimoto thought of my confession as a good story for getting a laugh, but she looked away from Isshiki and avoided giving her a straight answer.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say I wouldn’t mind if they talked about our past, but I’d expected it as an inevitable outcome, so Orimoto’s change there was a bit curious to me.

Isshiki still wanted to ask questions, but Orimoto sensed that and spun around to me instead, changing the subject suddenly. “Anyway, Hayama isn’t coming to this thing, is he?”

Isshiki twitched at the name Hayama. She’d been grinning and having a good time, but now her smile froze. “…Do you know Hayama, too?”

Her voice was pitched a little low. Scary. Her eyes were smiling, and her mouth was giggling, but I think she was squinting up her eyes on purpose to hide the gravity behind them…

“We hung out a bit before,” Orimoto said.

“Ohhh, so you hung out…” Isshiki pounced on those words, shooting Orimoto a dark look.

Not good. This is going to turn into a hassle.

“I’m sure he’s busy with his club, so he can’t come,” I cut into their conversation, and Orimoto tilted her umbrella and looked at me.

“It seems like you get along well with him,” commented Orimoto, “so I was just wondering if he might show up later on.”

“We’re not friends. If he did, it’d just be awkward.”

“Oh? But we’re kind of in trouble, aren’t we? The student council started up in the fall, and they’re not used to things. So I thought you might call him in to help or something.”

I see; so Kaihin—or Orimoto, at least—is aware of the trouble. She had appeared to be agreeing unconditionally with the current state of affairs, but it seemed she had her own problems with it.

“It’s true that things aren’t good, but I’m not calling Hayama.”

“Hmm… Well, it’d be pretty awkward if we did see him, though,” she murmured. She’d felt that awkwardness personally.

It was true, considering what had happened right before we’d parted ways with Hayama and the others when we’d gone to hang out downtown. It would be hard to face him again. I didn’t really want to go out of my way to find him myself, either.

Orimoto had probably brought him up just now to prevent him from showing up later, since it’d be awkward if they did meet. Or maybe she was just making sure he wouldn’t be coming. I could understand that.

But Isshiki seemed thoughtful as she glanced over at our faces. Well, if she didn’t remember Orimoto, then I didn’t have to tell her. She probably wasn’t interested in other girls…

After we’d exhausted the conversation about Hayama, the one common topic among the three of us, we walked in silence for a while.

We were nearly at the community center entrance when Orimoto gave an “Ahhh” to indicate she wanted to say something. I glanced over at her, wondering what it was, and found she was staring at me. “…I also thought those girls you’re friends with might come, Hikigaya.”

“No…they’re not coming.”

I wasn’t going to call them. I couldn’t.

“Hmm…” Orimoto expressed her disinterest, then kicked up a splash from a puddle before tilting up her umbrella to look up at the sky. I followed her gaze. In the west, the sunset was just barely peeking out. Maybe the rain might stop soon.

But the sky was still dark.

A little while after we went into the community center, I happened to look up at the clock.

Another day of time passing, nothing more.

I closed my borrowed laptop with a click and pressed my fingers to my eyes. The task of surveying the ideas that had come up in the meeting the day before was tougher than I’d thought.

The more time passed, the fewer options we had.

We didn’t have enough time, people, or money. Put together those three excuses, and they make some fine rationale. With these as your reasons, you can give up or give in on anything.

Of course, if we could postpone the plans or suspend them, we wouldn’t be so limited, but we were already past the point of backing out.

We kept getting more people involved with this project, while the key elements were yet to be decided. To put it in anime terms: It’s like you’ve only come up with a production committee, while the actual anime hasn’t been done. An anime like that is never gonna go well…

And plus, while we were doing this, time would keep marching on, and the days on the calendar would keep flipping by. It sounded nice to say we were putting time and effort into it, but we were really just killing the time we had to do the work. In anime terms, it’s like putting all the time into planning meetings, while all the other important stuff is a mess… Something like that.

What was important was balance and making decisions. Right now, both of those were lacking.

After that short pause, I faced the laptop once more.

I calculated the budget, confirmed the schedule, and weighed the potential costs of the more realistic plans. Just in case, I also looked up the contact info for churches and jazz bands and stuff.

But the more I engaged in these tasks, the more overwhelming the feeling became that this event would never happen. This is just, eugh, this is, like, so dumb! This is, like, so totally impossible! I complained under my breath. The others from Soubu must have felt the same way, as the vice president sighed.

Then he came over to show me some papers. “Here. Run the numbers any way you want, but there’s not enough money. So what do we do?”

“Either we do less stuff, or we raise some money. We’ve got no choice but to take a vote about it at the next meeting, right?” Frankly, we didn’t even have time for that. But in order to make them give this up, we had to have some proper grounds for argument and some documentation, or it’d never work out. We still might be overruled anyway.

I scratched hard at my head and reached out for a paper cup of coffee. The black liquid was so aggressively bitter and acrid, I couldn’t find it good. Isn’t there anything sweet…? I wondered, searching around the tabletops.

That was when my eyes landed on Isshiki, and she drifted over. “We’re about to finish making the decorations. What should we do next?”

Oh, that reminds me—our job was to deal with the elementary school kids… I paused the task at hand, folded my arms, and considered for a while.

Something that would be necessary, regardless of our eventual decisions, and also something that even elementary school kids could do. They were almost done making the decorations for the venue. They’d need something else to do…

I suddenly struck on an idea.

“How about setting up the tree?” I said.

But Isshiki’s face said she wasn’t on board. “The tree’s been delivered, but…if we set it up now, wouldn’t it get in the way?”

Well, I’d figured she’d say that. If we set it up and left it bam in the middle of the room, it would be annoying as hell. The Christmas tree we’d gotten this time around was pretty big and had an unusual sense of presence. So then we had to make use of its inconveniently large presence.

“Let’s negotiate with the community center and ask them to let us put it at the entrance. It’s a week before Christmas, so that should work out perfectly. Then we just have to carry it into the venue on the day of.”

“I see… Understood!” Isshiki gave me a couple nods, then trotted off to the kids. I watched her go, then turned my eyes to the computer again. In the end, I hadn’t found any snacks, but that exchange with Isshiki had been a good break.

But man, using work as a change of pace from your other work is like a terminal symptom, right? Our complacence as corporate slaves reflects the lies, gives us “freedom” before we die of overwork…

But I couldn’t be joking around about this. Helping Isshiki was supposed to be my way of accepting the consequences of making her president, but I’d accidentally started telling her how to do her job.

This was clearly different from support or backup. And nobody was questioning it. They were completely naturally starting to come to me for confirmation.

This was an awful way to go about this. And I’d witnessed a bad situation like this before. I had to change this, or eventually, it would all fall apart. I knew that from experience. Most of all, if I considered Iroha Isshiki’s future as student council president, this state of affairs was not at all desirable.

With the goal of changing things quickly so I could leave the rest to Isshiki, I went to go negotiate.

I went to Tamanawa with some papers gathered in my hands; we couldn’t have the usual style of meeting. Two representatives had to make a decision in conference, or he would weasel out of this.

“Hey, do you have a minute?”

“What is it?” It looked like Tamanawa was working on some task alone. The characters of a plan outline danced on the screen of a MacBook Air. When I took a peek at it, I saw he was writing about things like how to synergize multiple ideas.

Apparently, he was still trying to make everyone’s ideas happen.

After seeing a plan draft like that, it was a little hard to say what I had to, but regardless, I shoved the papers in my hands at him. “We’ve looked into all the various ideas. The ones that seem achievable, and the ones that don’t… Well, most of them don’t, but…”

“Oh! Thank you!” Tamanawa accepted the documents from me and flipped through them. “We’ve made the problematic areas clear now, yes?”

“Yeah.”

Those went without saying: We didn’t have enough time or money.

“So then let’s all consider together how to resolve them.”

“No, hold on. That really is impossible. We only have one week.”

“Yeah, for bands and such, we should hire externally, I suppose. You know, I looked into it a bit, and I found quite a few services that do private concerts for hire. I think it would be great if we could work in something like that to make our own sort of event.”

Where’s the money for that coming from…? I nearly asked, but that probably wouldn’t be effective on someone who was fixated on his own ideas.

It wasn’t that Tamanawa wouldn’t listen to people. He would listen—to everyone.

This was exactly why he was trying to derive a conclusion that took every single idea into consideration.

“First, let’s consider it all together and decide at the next meeting.”

His will was firm. It kind of looked like he was doubling down. Even after speaking with him countless times, he still would not retreat from this position. Perhaps rather than stubbornness, I should call this an obsession—no, a delusion. It was incomprehensible to me why he would go this far in an attempt to make use of every idea.

But that was when I figured it out.

It hadn’t been that long since Tamanawa had become student council president, either. He had an assertive personality, so I’d gotten the wrong idea, but he would have become president recently, just like Isshiki.

That was why he sought ideas from others and listened to them. And then after making sure they agreed, he would move into action. He coordinated to avoid any problems now and any quarrels down the line.

The psychology had to be similar to the way Isshiki would look to me for instructions. I knew Isshiki fairly well and could hardly help her, so there was no way I could support Tamanawa when I barely knew him—and trying to change his mind would be even more of a wasted effort.

I couldn’t ask for too much. I decided to remind him of one thing: Next time, for sure, we would make some real decisions. “…We absolutely have to make a decision at the next meeting, or we won’t have enough time to do the work. So please make sure that gets done.”

“Of course,” Tamanawa replied, his expression still bright. But now, his grin looked rather fishy to me, too.

I gave up trying to win over Tamanawa and decided to return to my spot.

This is bad… There’s nothing else I can do.

Ultimately, the final decision on what we were doing would take place at the next meeting—if we even came to one. Judging from the progress in the meetings thus far, I wouldn’t count on it.

Whatever the case, there was nothing else I could do at this stage. Now all I could do was twiddle my thumbs and watch this event fall apart.

I was mulling this over on my way to my seat when I discovered Rumi all alone, working on her task.

I looked around but saw no other little kids nearby. I recalled they were supposed to be setting up the tree or decorating it. Curious about what Rumi was doing alone, I approached her. “…Making decorations?”

Rumi was taking a pair of scissors to folded paper, cutting along the lines drawn there. It looked like she was making some kind of snowflake decoration.

I inferred that the task of making decorations wasn’t quite over, and Rumi was doing the leftover bits. Well, the way the kids saw it, they must have preferred to do something new, like put together a tree, rather than making more of the same.

But I dunno about letting an elementary schooler use a sharp object without any supervision. Should I say something to her? Besides, no one else was watching, so there wouldn’t be anyone to give me weird looks for talking to her.

“Working by yourself?” I asked as I crouched down a little, but she didn’t reply. She continued to silently cut the folded paper with her scissors.

Well, if she’s ignoring me, I guess there’s nothing I can do about that.

I got up, figuring I’d just leave, when Rumi glanced at me. Then she picked up a new piece of paper and turned away again. “…Isn’t it obvious?” she replied in a cheeky, disparaging tone.

Just how much of a time lag is there, here? Even satellite broadcast is a little faster, at least these days. She’s not cute at all, I thought, but seeing her working like that, even when she was alone, I couldn’t be too mad. At the same time, I realized what had brought about this situation.

Rumi Tsurumi’s current state of affairs was another result of my actions. So I should be taking responsibility for that, too.

I thumped down next to Rumi and picked up a piece from the stack of folded paper. I borrowed one of the pairs of scissors lying around.

Ummm…ahhh, there’s a snowflake diagram drawn on the origami paper, and you cut along the lines… No, that’s not it. So do you fold it and then cut it to make the shape? Thinking about how they were doing some surprisingly sophisticated stuff, I copied the way she folded the paper, then cut it with the scissors.

That was when I heard the snipping sounds that had been going on beside me stop. I glanced over to see Rumi’s hands were still, and she was looking at me in surprise. “…What’re you doing?” she asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I repeated back what she’d said to me not long ago.

Rumi seemed to get that, and she gave me a little glare and a sulky look. “…So you don’t have anything else to do?”

“Guess not,” I said.

The truth was there were probably a number of things I should’ve been doing, but I could do none of them right now. For the rest, we had to actually have a meeting, or nothing was going to work out.

Rumi gave me a dull look. “…Lazy.”

“Leave me alone.”

After that, the two of us silently resumed making the remaining decorations.

I don’t know who’d come up with the idea, but the folded paper ornaments were far more intricate than I’d imagined, and cutting out the tiny pieces with scissors required a surprising amount of concentration. I became completely absorbed in it, and the bustle of the lecture room seemed to drift away.

But then there was the noisy patter of approaching footsteps. I looked up to see Isshiki had trotted over.

“Oh, I’m gonna borrow that box cutter.” She casually asked for permission, then reached out to one of the box cutters on top of the table. She probably needed the tool for decorating the tree.

Then she noticed Rumi, who was too absorbed in her task to notice Isshiki in return. But Isshiki seemed curious about something.

She beckoned me over with little hand gestures. I leaned toward her as if to ask, What is it?

She whispered into my ear, “…Do you like younger girls?”

“I don’t dislike them.” I have a little sister, so maybe that’s why I don’t really feel all that awkward around kids of that age. In fact, I get far more anxious when they’re around my age. On the other hand, I don’t really know how to deal with kids as young as Kawasaki’s sister. I can be a little awkward around them, but I guess that’s it. Oh, I do have a basic dislike of younger boys, though. I mean, they’re such animals, they can’t even understand verbal communication…

I’d answered her, but Isshiki gave me no reply. When I eyed her, wondering if it was just a corpse, she gave me a confused look.

“…Wait, wereyoutryingtohitonmeI’msorryIlikeolderguysquiteabitbutit’snothappening.”

“Uh, I’m clearly not.” Honestly, I feel like an idiot for replying seriously to her questions…

When I tried to shoo her out of my way, Isshiki whined, “Hey, why’re you treating me like that…?” as she left the lecture room.

Once she was gone, the time passed in silence once more.

There were only the sounds of rustling paper and scissors snipping away. Neither of us opened our mouths, and there was nothing but snowflakes made of folded paper falling into piles. Eventually, we finished the last one, and Rumi and I looked at each other.

“Guess we’re done…”

“…Yeah,” she answered, and then with a satisfied-sounding sigh, she smiled a little. But when her eyes met mine, she shyly jerked her face away again immediately.

I breathed a short sigh and stood. “…Right, I guess I’ll go now.”

“U-um…” Still sitting, Rumi looked at me as if she wanted to say something.

But I didn’t wait for her. “I bet they’re still working on the tree, so why don’t you go?”

“…Oh yeah,” Rumi replied, and then she stood and headed out of the lecture room. I returned to my old seat.

I couldn’t listen to what Rumi had been about to say. Seeing that smile had hurt.

It had made me realize I was trying to buy forgiveness with my petty attempt to help her. But Rumi Tsurumi’s smile was not something that would affirm my actions.

Some things had been saved through my old methods.

But I’m sure that’s not enough.

My responsibility. I still don’t know what the answer is.

We sent the elementary schoolers home, and then after working a while longer, once I was finished organizing the remaining documents, there was no longer anything else to do.

It seemed the members of the Soubu student council were also at loose ends, killing time with tasks like double-checking and recalculating the budget. The Kaihin kids seemed to be having some kind of vibrant discussion.

And as for my work, I guess that’s it for today.

“Isshiki, it doesn’t look like there’s anything else to do, so can we leave?” I asked her as she was flipping through a stack of papers beside me.

She looked up at the clock, too, and after a moment of consideration, she opened her mouth. “Yeah…let’s call it a day.”

“Okay. Then I’ll see you.”

Isshiki gave me a thank-you, and with that, I left the lecture room.

When I exited the community center, I found the rain had already stopped. The streetlights were reflected in the puddle, and the water drops under the eaves were absorbing light. But as beautiful as it was, the sight was somehow chilly.

As I pulled the collar of my jacket together, my feet started off to the bicycle parking, when I realized I hadn’t ridden my bicycle there that day. Since it had been raining that morning, I’d taken the train, then transferred to the bus.

As I was walking to the station, I noticed the Maripin. The signs were brightly lit, and when the automatic doors opened, a warm air flowed out from inside the building.

That reminds me—there’s a KFC inside the Maripin, too… I’d completely forgotten to reserve our order.

I was earlier than usual, so I figured I’d reserve the tub my mom had asked me for. It was a little far from home, but we could just reheat it in the toaster oven anyway. I’d be the one coming to get it, so this place should be fine. Anyway, coming to get the chicken is a perfect role for myself, the chicken!

I headed into the Marinpia, and people carrying large bags caught my eye—they had to have Christmas sales going on. Casually looking around the mall, I saw where the KFC was and headed straight for it.

With Christmas looming in one week, this time period was peak season for KFC, and there were a few people lining up who looked like they were reserving tubs. Well, it was a perfect place to stop by on your way home from work. It was close to the station, after all. I joined the line and completed my reservation without a hitch.

I’d finished my task. Now to head home.

I started walking to the exit closest to the KFC. The constant flow of people entering and exiting kept the automatic doors open all the time, and it wasn’t just shoppers from the first floor. People heading toward the nearby escalator as well as those coming down off it were all mixed together, making it rather crowded.

About what you’d expect from the year-end holiday season. It’s all hustle and bustle in here…, I thought as I looked over at the escalator.

And then, in the flow of people coming off that escalator, I found Yukinoshita. I should have walked out right then, but I was startled, and my feet stopped.

Even in the throng of people, Yukinoshita stood out prominently. I hadn’t been searching for her, but she’d immediately caught my eye. She must have been shopping for books, as she had a bag from a bookstore in hand.

She was walking my way. Of course, she noticed me with a little start. Our eyes met, and we acknowledged each other. It would be difficult to pretend we hadn’t seen each other now.

I bowed casually with just a bob of my head, and Yukinoshita, coming off the escalator and heading for the exit right then, nodded back.

“Hey,” I said.

“…Good evening.”

I’d been standing there for a bit, while Yukinoshita had just come walking briskly off the escalator. Our paces synced, and we stepped outside at almost the same moment.

The main road was crowded with people heading home and shoppers coming and going.

Beyond the exit by the KFC was a small square. Maybe it’d be different at warmer times of year, or at noon on weekends, but on a cold night after the rain, people didn’t stop there.

But for some reason or another, we did.

Yukinoshita put on her coat again and adjusted her collar to check her scarf. To fill the time, I rewrapped my own scarf, too.

Maybe this was a habit from the clubroom lately. I should’ve left things at that, but I still opened my mouth automatically, looking for some words. “Uhhh, shopping?” I asked.

With the same unchanging expression as always, she coldly replied, “Yes… What are you doing out this late?”

I’d left the club early again that day. So it was odd for me to be there. Of course she’d ask me. I should have avoided running into her here—but I hadn’t, and there was no helping it now.

Scratching my cheek, I looked away. “…I’ve got, well, lots of stuff going on.”

I couldn’t tell her the truth, so I gave a bland reply that was meaningless and vague and also technically wasn’t a lie.

Yukinoshita’s eyes slid downward, and she assented in a quiet voice. “I see…” Then she lifted her chin. Her teeth bit down on the tiny tremble in her lip, as if she was worrying whether to speak or not, and her gaze wavered slightly. “…You’re helping Isshiki with her business, aren’t you?” Her voice was a quiet and listless whisper. Her words were like frost falling in the night, terribly cold and fragile enough to shatter under a touch.

Yuigahama probably hadn’t told her. I think she’d figured it out herself. She’d tolerated it silently thus far, but now that she’d actually witnessed this suspicious behavior from me, she couldn’t avoid asking.

“Oh, well, things just worked out that way…” The facts wouldn’t change, no matter how evasive I was about it, but still, I had no other way to say it. Even though there was no point in denying it now.

“You didn’t have to bother lying.” Yukinoshita’s eyes were down on the bare earth lashed by the cold winter wind. She was probably referring to my excuses, like that thing about Komachi.

“I didn’t lie. That was one of my reasons.”

“…Yes, I suppose it’s true that wasn’t a lie,” Yukinoshita said as if she were laughing at herself. Her hand combed through her hair, mussed by the cold wind.

That gesture reminded me of a similar exchange between us sometime before.

I’d stubbornly believed in the fact that Yukino Yukinoshita does not lie, and that was why I’d been disillusioned when she hadn’t spoken the truth.

Not by her. I’d disappointed myself with how I’d forced such ideals on her.

So what about me now? I was even worse than before. I’d swallowed the disingenuous idea that it’s not a lie if you avoid saying the truth, and now I was even acting on it.

I was nonchalantly making use of the deception that I’d once rejected so fiercely, and I felt like a disgrace for it. That was why the words that came out of my mouth were kind of like a confession.

“…Sorry for doing this without talking to you.”

Yukinoshita closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t really mind. I can’t control what you do in your own time, and I don’t have the right, too, either. Or…” She paused there. Her hand holding the bag over her shoulder squeezed tight. “Do you need my permission?” she asked me with tranquil eyes, tilting her head ever so slightly. Her soft voice was not hostile. That was what made it hurt so much. I felt a pressure in my chest like a silk cord slowly strangling me.

“…No, I was just checking,” I said, a little harshly. I didn’t know if that was the right answer. Maybe there was no such thing as a right one in the first place.

I subtly shifted my gaze to catch a glimpse of her. She wore that same faint smile she’d had on in the clubroom, as if nostalgic for days long past.

“…I see. Then there’s no need for you to apologize, is there? Besides, Isshiki can engage more readily and openly if it’s with you.” Yukinoshita spoke eloquently and slowly, without ever rushing.

I listened in silence. If an apology wasn’t allowed, then what else could I say?

She didn’t look at me, gazing only at the cloudy, starless sky and the mist-like clouds, muddied with orange from the light of the factory district on the distant bay coast. “I think you can resolve things on your own,” she continued. “You’ve always done that, after all.”

I didn’t think that was true. I hadn’t resolved anything. With Isshiki and Rumi, I’d ultimately just made it a mess instead. Had I managed to help them? Not at all. “I haven’t really resolved anything… And besides, I’m just doing it on my own because I’m on my own.”

I deal with my issues by myself. That’s simply how things are. Whether I got dragged into something or it fell down into my lap, once I’m involved, it’s my problem. So I was dealing with it alone.

It’s so ingrained in me, and I don’t really know any other ways to do it, yet I still rely on others so easily. That leads to nothing good. Obviously, when someone who’s starting from the wrong place tries to do things the right way, he’s not going to get the right results.

That’s why I do things myself. That’s all it is.

And Yukinoshita, who’d done these club activities together with me for over six months, had to be the same, too.

“You’re the same way, aren’t you?” I asked with certainty—no, with expectation.

But Yukinoshita hesitated to speak. “I’m…not.” She lowered her eyes, her lips pulled down, and she was squeezing the sleeves of her coat. Beneath her loose scarf, I caught a glimpse of motion in her white neck as she swallowed. It looked as if she was gasping painfully in the wind. It may have been the first time I’d seen Yukinoshita like that. Her head still downturned, she seemed to struggle getting the words out. “That’s just acting like someone who has it all together…like someone who’s figured everything out.”

Who was she talking about? Did she mean her, or did she mean me? But I figured it had to be the same thing. Who had it been, really, who’d thought they had everything figured out?

That was why I felt I had to say something, even though I hadn’t gathered my thoughts, and opened my mouth. “Hey, Yukinoshita…,” I started to say, but I couldn’t continue.

She jerked her head up, cutting me off in her usual calm tones. “Why don’t you take some time away from the club? If you’re just trying to be considerate, there’s no need for you to stop by.” She spoke quickly but maintained her clear, faint smile. Her expression was peaceful, like a delicate porcelain doll in a glass case.

“I’m not trying to be considerate.” I knew these weren’t the words I should be saying. But I also understood if I said nothing, I would lose even that hollow room.

But that mistake remained a mistake, and no matter what I said to try to cover it, it wouldn’t be corrected.

Yukinoshita shook her head. The bag over her shoulder lowered weakly. “I have. I’ve been trying to be considerate…ever since then… So…” I strained to catch the near whisper as I waited for what she would say next. But the rest never came, and she said something else. “But there’s no more need to force it. If this was enough to ruin it, then that’s all it amounted to… Am I wrong?”

That question silenced me.

That was something I’d both believed and failed to believe completely.

But on that field trip, Yukinoshita had believed in what I’d been unable to.

I’d told one lie then. With that, I’d twisted that wish to not change things, to not be changed.

Ebina, Miura, and Hayama.

They had wanted their happy lifestyle to continue as it had been. Their relationship was enough to make them want to lie and deceive bit by bit to maintain it. Having understood that, I couldn’t reject the idea so easily.

I couldn’t feel like their conclusion and the choice they had made in an attempt to protect it was wrong.

I had projected myself onto them and approved of how they were. I’d rather liked how things had been, in my own way, and I’d started to realize I didn’t want to let it go.

Even though I knew I was going to lose it eventually.

That was why I twisted my conviction and lied to myself. The important things can’t be replaced. If you lose it, you’ll never get it again. So you lie like that because you feel you have to protect it.

I hadn’t been protecting it—I’d thought I had, but really, I was only clinging to it.

The question Yukinoshita had put before me now was an ultimatum.

Not finding meaning in the superficial—that was the one conviction we had shared.

—Do I still have that conviction now?

I couldn’t answer. Now, I know it’s not completely pointless to maintain a pleasant veneer. I understand that’s one way you can do things. That was why I couldn’t reject it.

I was unable to say anything as Yukinoshita looked at me with sadness in her eyes. It seemed she was silently waiting for my answer. But when she understood my answer was my silence, a small breath slipped from her, and she offered a fragile smile. “You don’t have to force yourself to come anymore…”

Her tone was terribly kind.

Her loafers tapped against the brick stairs. Despite the crowd around her, I felt as if I could hear the sound of her departing footsteps the whole way.

She disappeared into the crowd at the station. Though she wasn’t that far away, she felt unreachable to me.

I watched her go without calling out to her and sat down right there on the steps of the square.

At some point, Christmas songs started playing from a nearby store. The lights lit on the Christmas tree in the square, decorated with present-shaped ornaments.

Were those boxes empty on the inside?

They would be exactly like that clubroom. But hollow as that box was, I’d still tried to hold on to it.

I never thought I’d want something like that.

I stared off into space. Nothing in particular was on my mind.

I sat on the stairs of the square for a while, watching the lights on the tree flash over and over.

As I was soaking in the cold, finally, I made my decision. Blowing out a white breath, I got to my feet.

Not much time had passed since Yukinoshita had left, according to the clock.

In front of the station, there were lots of people going home, shoppers, and students returning from their clubs.

But despite the noise, it felt strangely quiet.

Even once I’d left the square and stepped into the crowds, I didn’t really hear the voices around me or the Christmas carols. Just my own sigh, which sounded particularly loud in my ears.

I made my way down the sidewalk slowly. Maybe it was the flow of people going the opposite direction, exiting the station, that kept me from moving at the pace I wanted.

It wasn’t just the people. The cars on the road beside me often stopped. They had to be picking people up at the station or people coming in and out of the nearby parking lot.

One of those cars blared its horn. Don’t honk in the middle of town… I shot it a glare. A few other people glanced over, too.

That was where I saw the sort of black sports car you don’t see much around here, the kind that looks elongated in the front. The car slowly pulled alongside me, and the window on the left side slid down.

“Hikigaya, what’re you doing out here?” Poking her head out the window was Miss Hiratsuka.

“Uh, well, I was about to head home, but…what are you doing here, Miss Hiratsuka?” I asked. I wasn’t expecting to run into her at all, much less here.

A smile came to her lips. “Come on, it’s just a week till the event, right? I went to check on you, but it turns out you were done for the day. I was about to head home when I found you.”

“You’ve got sharp eyes.”

“When they make you work as a guidance counselor, you find yourself catching the school uniform all over town.” She smiled in a bit of a self-deprecating way and beckoned me over to the passenger’s seat. “This is perfect. I’ll take you home.”

“Uh, no, I’m fine.”

“Just come on. Get in. Cars are coming up behind me,” she urged me. I looked over to see a car rolling in after her. If she was going to say that, then I had to get in—now.

I was about to reluctantly climb in but found there was only one door on the left side. I guess this is one of those two-seaters. So I was forced to circle around to the right side. Wait, so the steering wheel in this car is on the left…?

I opened the door and slid inside. As I was putting on the seat belt, I looked around the interior to see the seats and dashboard were high-quality leather, and the meters and controls sparkled with a metallic aluminum finish. What the heck? Cool. “I didn’t know you had a car like this, Miss Hiratsuka. I feel like this one’s different from that one during summer vacation.” I thought when she took us to Chiba Village, she’d driven a typical minivan…

“Oh, that was a rental car. This is my baby,” Miss Hiratsuka said, knocking the wheel with her fist, pleased. Bold and proud, huh. But a single woman with an expensive-looking two-seater sports car, huh…? I dunno, maybe her heavy tendency toward these kinds of hobbies is one of the reasons she can’t get married…

Miss Hiratsuka’s baby revved with a low growl and sped away.

I told her the general location of my house, and she nodded, turning the wheel. From there, it would be fastest to go along the national highway.

But when I looked into the area lit by the headlights, she wasn’t going to the highway.

Finding this strange, I looked over to the driver’s seat to see her puffing a cigarette between her lips, eyes on the road. “Mind if we take a little detour?”

“Sure.” Since she was taking me home, of course I couldn’t complain. I didn’t know where the detour would lead, but if we were going to my house in the end, I didn’t mind.

I leaned back in the seat and rested my chin on my hand, elbow on the window frame. It had to be a little foggy, because the streetlights I saw from the car oozed orange as they flowed by.

A warm wind slowly blew up from my feet. It was comfortable after the chill outside, and I yawned a few times.

Beside me with her hands on the wheel, Miss Hiratsuka said nothing, humming quietly instead. Her faint breaths and the slow melody were like a lullaby, and my eyelids slid shut. She was driving rather carefully, considering this was a sports car, and the vibrations of its engine were like a cradle.

A night drive to who-knows-where.

As I was nodding off, eventually, the car rolled to a stop.

I looked up to see that there was nothing to see, aside from the streetlights standing at regular intervals and the headlights of the vehicles driving down the opposite lane. It was an ordinary road.

“We’re here,” Miss Hiratsuka said, getting out of the car.

Here? Where…? I thought as I stepped out as well.

Suddenly, the smell of the sea hit my nose. Then seeing the lights of the new city center ahead, I figured out where we were. Right over there was Tokyo Bay, and now we were on the bridge at the mouth of the river. For us students at Soubu High School, this is the spot where you turn back during the February school marathon. The railing of the bridge is covered with couples graffiti, and I have a strong memory of thinking Eugh when I saw it before.

Miss Hiratsuka came out to the sidewalk side and tossed a canned coffee at me. It was dark, so I nearly missed it, but I caught it somehow. The can in my hands was still a little warm.

She leaned against the car, and with a cigarette in one hand, she opened up the can of coffee with the other. The gesture oddly suited her.

“You look kinda cool,” I said, meaning to tease her.

But she replied, with a cool, dark smile, “That was the goal.”

Aw, man, if you give me a look like that, then I really will think you’re cool!

Continuing to stare at her would make me embarrassed, so I turned my eyes to the ocean instead.

The ocean at night was pitch-black. There were some lights, so I could see the surface of the water moving. It looked particularly soft, and the thought crossed my mind that if you were to sink down there, you’d never rise up again.

As I was staring at the water, Miss Hiratsuka said to me, “How are things going?”

What’s she asking about? There was no context, so I couldn’t say anything, but considering the time of year this was, I figured it was about the Christmas event.

“Pretty bad.”

“…Hmm.” She looked away and breathed out a smoky breath. Then she turned back to me. “What’s looking bad?”

“What exactly? Just in general…”

“Come on, tell me.”

“Fine, then…” After pondering where to start, I launched into my explanation.

First, the biggest problem was lack of time. I didn’t feel like I could turn things around in a week.

The next was the root cause of that lost time, the issues with the way we’d been going about this. Tamanawa took listening to people’s opinions as an absolute, while Isshiki kept seeking out others’ opinions, too… Having those two in charge had wound up wasting time.

In order to improve things, either someone had to take an ax to this, or the two of them had to change their way of thinking, but the chances of either of those possibilities happening was low.

For the former, there was no one who’d take on that responsibility. Anyone who was there only to help out would hold back in front of the student council, while the student council members under the two presidents felt like they needed to defer to authority.

So then you might change how Isshiki and Tamanawa ran things, but that would be arduous, too. Neither of them had been student council president for very long. It was no surprise they lacked experience. The problem was that neither of them had any vision as leaders that would enable them to succeed. I couldn’t see it at all—but I could clearly see their failure. They had to be somewhat afraid that their first job as presidents, which was also a major event involving another school and local organizations, would end in failure.

It’s common enough to stumble during your first big performance. Only a bystander can say that failure is a part of the experience—if you’re the one who blows it, it’s just unpleasant.

People talking from a safe zone will say things like Just try again next time and Everyone experiences failure. But sometimes there is no next time, and that one failure can have a lasting effect; sometimes you fail at your next chance, too. It’s honestly irresponsible to say it’s okay to fail. The responsibility for failure falls on their shoulders, not yours.

If you have even a bit of imagination, you can easily understand failure is something to avoid. Tamanawa and Isshiki probably knew that, too.

That was why they sought input from others and adopted it—in order to distribute responsibility in case of failure.

I’m sure they wouldn’t tell anyone to their face that their idea was to blame. It would just be a secret consolation in their hearts.

Reporting, contacting, consulting, conferencing, and confirming are all done to increase the number of people involved and distribute one’s own responsibility. If you can make it a failure of the whole, the responsibility of the whole, then the emotional burden on each individual decreases.

They get other people to tell them what they should do because they can’t handle responsibility themselves.

This was the reason the planning of this event was at a standstill. The original error was that it had never been settled who was on top, who would assume the most responsibility.

“Well, I guess that’s basically it…” I wasn’t all that sure I’d managed to put it into words well, but I’d spoken my thoughts at length.

Miss Hiratsuka had listened to the whole thing in silence, but then when I was done talking, she nodded, her expression complicated. “…You have a good view of this. You’re good at reading people’s psychology.”

That wasn’t true at all. All I was doing was supposing what I would think if I were in that position.

When I was about to respond with that, Miss Hiratsuka stuck up her index finger to stop me. Then she looked me in the eye as she slowly put the words together. “But you don’t understand feelings.”

My breath caught. Not my voice, words, or even a sigh came out. I felt as if I’d been struck to the core. And I realized the true nature of what I, Hachiman Hikigaya, had not tried to understand—despite being told the same thing a long time ago. She said I should “consider people’s feelings more” and that I “understand so many things, so why can’t you get that?”

When I didn’t say anything, Miss Hiratsuka crushed her cigarette in a portable ashtray and said, “Psychology is not always equivalent to feelings. That’s why, occasionally, you’ll end up with a conclusion that looks completely unreasonable… That’s why Yukinoshita, Yuigahama, and you all come up with the wrong answers.”

“…Uh, they don’t have anything to do with this, though,” I retorted. I was taken aback, hearing those names now. That wasn’t something I wanted to talk or think about much at the moment.

Miss Hiratsuka shot me a glare. “I was asking about them to begin with,” she said in a disgruntled manner, then lit another cigarette. Yeah, she hadn’t said what she was asking about. I’d just assumed it was about the Christmas event. “But, well, both are the same, in essence. There’s one root problem… The heart.” She blew out a breath. The haze of her smoke changed form, then quickly vanished.

Heart. Feelings. Emotion.

I followed the trail of smoke as it melted into the air. Maybe I could still see something; maybe not.

But that was conceit. In the end, I couldn’t see anything. I’d meant to take people’s feelings into account, but I’d only been seeing what was on the surface. I’d taken my hypothesis as truth and acted based on that. How was that anything other than self-satisfaction?

So I’ll probably never really get it.

“But…that’s not something I can understand just by mulling it over,” I said.

If I can see something in terms of advantages and disadvantages, risk and return, then I’ll understand it. Those things make sense to me.

Desire and self-preservation, jealousy and hate. They’re common, ugly emotions, and when they form the root of a behavioral psychology, I can form an analogy—since I have plenty of examples to draw from inside me. That’s why it’s easy for me to imagine. In those cases, there’s still room for me to understand. I can explain it with theory.

But it’s hard for anything else.

When the arithmetic of profit and loss is set aside, people’s feelings beyond logic and theory are hard to imagine. There are too few clues, and most of all, I’ve been wrong too many times at this point.

Goodwill, friendship, love, and everything else in that category have only ever brought about misunderstanding. Every time I think, Okay, this time I get it, I make a mess of things again.

Whether it’s getting a text, or happening by chance to touch someone, or meeting their gaze in class and getting a smile in return, or hearing a rumor that someone liked me, or talking a lot because we were seated next to each other, or always going home at the same time, I get it wrong every single time.

Even if… If by chance, I was right after all…

I’m not confident that I can really believe in that. Excluding all other elements for good judgment, with any and every obstacle established, I don’t feel like I could still say that feeling is real.

If things change continuously, then there’s no right answer. I don’t think you can come up with one.

Listening to me, Miss Hiratsuka’s lips curled up a little, and then she fixed me with a strict look. “You don’t get it? Then keep mulling it over. If all you can do is calculate, then calculate everything you can. Come up with every answer, reducing them one by one by process of elimination. Whatever remains is your answer.” Her intense gaze was focused on me. But this was an irrational line of argument. No—it wasn’t even an argument.

She was saying that if you can only make conjectures about people via theories and calculation, then you should look through everything and calculate everything—to eliminate every possibility you can think of via process of elimination and set it aside.

What an inefficient and pointless process. And what’s more, even if I did do that, there was no guarantee I’d get an answer. Thanks to my exasperation and shock, the words wouldn’t come out quite right. “…I don’t think that would help me understand.”

“Which would mean either your calculations were wrong, or you overlooked something. You do the calculation over again.” Her serious tone made me think it was all a joke, like it was nothing. She said it like it was such an obvious fact.

I gave a hollow laugh. “You’re ridiculous…”

“You fool. If you could calculate feelings, we would’ve computerized them a long time ago. Whatever answer remains that you can’t calculate, that’s human feelings.” The words she used were rough, but her tone was kind.

Like she said, I think there are things you can’t calculate. And even if you did, you’d probably have something left over afterward to prevent a clean sense of satisfaction. Like pi or an infinitely repeating decimal.

But that isn’t abandoning thought. If there’s no answer, then you keep thinking. That’s far from repose—it’s something like torture.

Just imagining something like that sent a chill up my spine. I reflexively drew the collar of my coat against myself.

Miss Hiratsuka chuckled. “Well, I say that, but my calculations are full of mistakes, which is probably why I can’t get married… The other day, a friend of mine had a wedding, you know…,” she said, a masochistic smile creeping on her face. Normally, this was where I would tease her with an offhand comment.

But I didn’t feel like it this time. “No, that’s because you have no taste in men.”

“Huh? Wh-where’s this coming from?” Startled, she mumbled in embarrassment and turned away.

But it wasn’t really flattery. If I’d been born ten years earlier, if I’d met her ten years earlier, I think I’d probably have sincerely fallen for her. Not that speculating about it has a point.

The image was so funny, I couldn’t help but laugh, and Miss Hiratsuka chuckled pleasantly with me. After that bout of laughter, she cleared her throat. “W-well, whatever. I’m not sure if I can call this thanks, but…I’ll give you a special hint,” she said, and when she turned to me once more, her expression was earnest. Her chiding tone made me stand up straight and look her in the eye. When I told her with my gaze that I was ready to listen, she slowly began to speak.

“When you’re mulling over this, don’t focus on the wrong thing.”

“Okay…”

Her words were a little vague, though. It was too abstract and functionally no hint at all.

She must have been able to tell from my face that I didn’t understand, and she tilted her head. “Hmm, yeah… For example, the reason you’re helping Isshiki as an individual instead of as a part of the Service Club. Think about that. It’s either for the Service Club or for Yukinoshita’s sake.”

This speculation and the name she’d brought up suddenly startled me. When my head jerked over to her, I found her smiling wryly. “It’s clear to anyone watching. After the incident with Isshiki, Yukinoshita spoke with me… She doesn’t talk about herself, but I could tell from the way she was acting that something might be going on. Was it the same with you?”

“Uhhh, well, I don’t know…,” I said noncommittally, searching for how to answer.

But Miss Hiratsuka didn’t wait to hear it and continued. “If you had the same thoughts, then you would’ve decided to distance yourself from them so as not to hurt them…perhaps. Though I’m just speculating here.”

“…Well, yeah, it’s just speculation,” I said, telling myself it was nothing more than that. This was merely a case study, and what Miss Hiratsuka had said was not necessarily the reality of the situation.

Miss Hiratsuka nodded back, as if confirming with me. “But that’s not what you should be thinking about. In this case, what you should be considering is why you don’t want to hurt them. That’ll lead you to your answer quickly—it’s because you care about them.” Miss Hiratsuka fixed me a focused stare. I could tell she wouldn’t allow me to argue or even look away.

Illuminated by the orange streetlights and the headlights of the cars driving by, her face seemed full of sorrow, but in a soft, warm voice, she murmured, “But you know, Hikigaya, you can’t not hurt them. You’ll unconsciously hurt someone merely by existing. Whether you’re alive or dead, you will always hurt someone. It can happen when you involve yourself with them, or when you avoid involving yourself. It’s inevitable…”

At this point, she pulled out a cigarette. Looking at it intently, she continued. “But if it’s someone you don’t care about, you won’t even notice the pain you inflicted. What you need is self-awareness. It’s because you care about them that you believe you hurt them.” Once she was done saying this, she finally put the cigarette in her mouth. Her lighter made a flick sound like striking a stone, and then a soft glow lit her face. Her eyes were closed as if she were sleeping, expression peaceful. Then she exhaled a big breath of smoke and added, “To care about someone is to be prepared for the day you’ll hurt them.”

She was staring at the sky.

Wondering exactly what she was looking at now, I followed her gaze. Above our heads, the clouds had broken at some point, and faint moonlight was seeping through.

“That’s it for your hints,” she said. She pushed herself off the car and smiled at me, then stretched with a little groan. “And sometimes, caring about each other is the reason why you don’t understand. But that’s not something to be sad about. I think it’s something to be proud of.”

That was a very beautiful thing to say, but it was nothing more. Wanting something you can’t have, seeing it just beyond your reach, has to hurt. If you could just not want it or see it, then you’d be able to give up on it.

When this thought struck me, I found myself asking, “…Isn’t that harsh?”

“Yeah, it is,” she said, coming one step closer to me to lean on her car again. “…But you can do it. I did. Once.” She had a rather unyielding smile on her face. She didn’t tell me a lot, but I’m sure plenty had happened, a long time ago. I didn’t know if it was okay for me to ask what. Once I get a little older, one day, will she tell me about it?

I realized I was looking forward to that a little and looked away. Then while I was at it, I said something unkind. “It’s a little arrogant to say just because you did it, other people should be able to,” I complained.

She petted my head roughly, sort of like the iron claw. “…You’re not even a little cute.” Feeling a grinding pain on my skull, when I gasped, she suddenly eased up. But her hand wouldn’t leave my head. “…All right, I’ll be frank,” she said, and her tone lowered substantially. My head was in her grip, so I shifted my eyes toward her and saw a hint of a sad smile. “It probably doesn’t really have to be you. Yukinoshita might change herself sometime in the future. One day, someone who can understand her might show up. Maybe they can get close to her. That’s something I can say to Yuigahama, too.”

“One day?”

When would that be? It seemed like a distant future far removed from reality, and yet something especially real and inevitably soon.

“I’m sure to all of you, right now feels like everything, but that’s not true at all. Somewhere along the line, things can balance out. The world is made that way.”

Was that right? That someday, someone was sure to make that approach? The thought of that unshakable fact caused a mild ache inside me, and I twisted around to hide it.

The hand on my head moved away to rest on my shoulder. Miss Hiratsuka’s voice felt far closer than before, too. “…But I think it would be good if it could be you. I hope both you and Yuigahama will be the ones to close the distance.”

“…But I can’t just—,” I started to say, and right then, she softly embraced me around the shoulders. The closeness and faint warmth made my words fizzle out.

When I froze under the sudden gesture, Miss Hiratsuka looked me in the eye and said, “This time now isn’t everything…but there are things that you can do only now and things that are only here. It’s now, Hikigaya. It’s now.”

I couldn’t look away from her dewy eyes. Right that moment, I had no response for that earnest gaze. So I said nothing.

Her arm over my shoulders squeezed. “If you don’t mull it over, suffer with it, struggle and agonize—if you don’t work at it, then it isn’t real,” she said and then abruptly pulled away.

Then as if to say, The lecture ends here, she put on her usual easygoing and cool smile. And with that, finally, I unfroze.

After everything she said, many, many replies rose in my heart. But I didn’t spit them out. I should think about these things, distill them, and swallow them myself, I knew.

So I’d say something else. Something rude, instead of thanks. “…But it’s not like it’s real just because you suffered.”

“You really aren’t at all cute.” She laughed pleasantly and bonked my head from behind. “…Okay, let’s go back. Get in,” she said before climbing into the driver’s seat.

I replied with an “Uh-huh” and was about to circle around to the passenger’s side.

As I did so, I happened to look at the sky.

The moon had peeked out from the gap in the clouds, but it was already hidden away again. There was nothing to illuminate the night sky, and the chilly wind was so sharp, it felt like it was stabbing my cheeks.

But strangely, I didn’t feel cold. Warmth lingered in my body.