Yahari Ore no Seishun Love Come wa Machigatte Iru - Volume 9 - Chapter 6

6

But even so, Hachiman Hikigaya…

As I sank into the living room sofa, I heard the long hand of the wall clock ticking out time. When I glanced over, the short hand was circling the top.

Quite a while had passed since Miss Hiratsuka had taken me home.

Komachi and our parents had already finished dinner, and they’d all gone back to their rooms. Kamakura was probably sleeping in Komachi’s room now, too.

Occasionally, the kotatsu would make a low buzzing noise—maybe because it was an older model. Nobody was using it, but it seemed to have been left on. I got up to turn it off, then went back to the sofa.

Right now, the chill of the room was actually helpful to me. It kept me from getting sleepy, and most of all, my head was clear like a cold sky.

Miss Hiratsuka really had given me hints. And probably not only that day. She’d been teaching me all this time—though I’d always overlooked it, or misunderstood it, or missed it. So I figured I should rethink things from the beginning one more time.

I had to reestablish and reexamine the problem.

Right now, the biggest obstacle at hand was, of course, the Christmas event between Kaihin and Soubu. Though I’d volunteered to help, the situation was close to collapsing.

Along with that was the problem with Iroha Isshiki. I was the one who’d recommended her for student council president, but she was not doing a good job of running things.

Rumi Tsurumi’s situation was tangled up in this, too. I don’t know how what I did in Chiba Village during summer vacation had affected her. But right now, it didn’t look like she was in a good situation.

And…as for the Service Club…

Just thinking about that last problem gave me a bad feeling, and I wasn’t getting anything that seemed like a resolution. Whenever I tried to find somewhere to start, all I got was resigned expressions and forced cheerful smiles.

After I got stuck on that matter and spent a lot of time mulling it over, I decided that issue should be left for later.

Regarding the other three problems: The goals there were clearly established, making them easy to understand. One was to use this event to ensure Isshiki could manage as student council president. I also had to make it so Rumi could smile whether she was alone or with others. Further, I also had to arrange for proper cooperation between us and the Kaihin crowd, Tamanawa included, and to make the event actually happen within the scope of what was possible.

If I could accomplish this, then I should be able to quickly find a solution.

I went around rearranging the problem in my head like a computer defragging its hard drive to find the optimal answer. All these things were connected to the joint Christmas event. The three problems all converged here.

I just had to think of a way to make this the perfect success.

But having worked on it for the past week, I understood this wouldn’t be easy. I doubted I could reverse the situation on my own. I’d already spoken to Tamanawa multiple times, asking if we could change our approach.

What should I do? Should I ask someone for help?

The only person I could rely on would be Komachi, but she was studying for her entrance exams. Given her situation, I shouldn’t bother her. She had less than two months, and I really couldn’t get help from her. It was obviously unacceptable for me to obstruct this turning point in my little sister’s life.

So then who? Zaimokuza? It wouldn’t hurt me much to bother him. And besides, he probably had nothing better to do. But I sincerely doubted Zaimokuza would function well in this sort of social situation. He was already bad at communicating with people at the best of times, so if it was with people from other schools, then he’d be even worse.

…No, I understand it’s not Zaimokuza’s fault.

The responsibility, and the cause of this, was with me.

I’m pathetic.

Why was my first thought looking to someone else for help? I’d gotten help once, so now I was starting to believe it was okay, immediately trying to rely on others again.

When had I become so weak?

Connections between people have gotta be a drug. You don’t even realize you’ve become dependent, and every time, it slowly gnaws into your heart. Eventually, you can’t do anything without relying on others.

Have I been making people suffer when I’ve tried to help them? Have I created people who can’t stand without assistance?

I should not have given fish but taught how to fish.

Anything you can easily get from someone else is bound to be fake. If someone can give you something easily, then surely they can steal it from you just as easily.

During the student council election, I’d gotten a reason from Komachi. I had told myself it was for Komachi’s sake, to keep the Service Club going, and taken action.

I was probably wrong that time.

I should have acted based on an answer I’d found—my own reason.

Even now, I was trying to look to someone else for a reason to act. For Isshiki, for Rumi, for the event.

Was there really a reason for me to act? I got the feeling I’d been working from the wrong presuppositions. I was confused about what I should be thinking about.

If I was going to correct these wrongs, then I had to go back to where it had all started.

What have I been doing all this time? What was the reason? I turned over the events I’d just been thinking about, considering them in reverse chronological order.

The reason I needed to make the Christmas event a success was that I wanted to help Iroha Isshiki and Rumi Tsurumi, and the direct reason I was assisting with this event in particular was because I’d recommended Isshiki as president during the student council election. During that election, I’d recommended her so I could keep Yukinoshita or Yuigahama from becoming president. So why hadn’t I wanted either of them as president? The real reason I’d acted—the real reason I’d made myself search for a motive, a pretext from Komachi—was…

…because there was something I wanted.

I think maybe this was the only thing I’ve truly desired. I didn’t need anything else, and I even hated anything that wasn’t it. But I’d never attained it, so I’d believed that it didn’t exist.

But I had felt like I’d caught a glimpse of it. Like I’d touched it, like I could reach it.

That was how I went astray.

I’d come up with the question. So then I’d mull it over—my answer.

I don’t know how long I stayed like that, but the blue night was already starting to melt away as the sky tinged faintly white.

I’d spent the whole night thinking, but I couldn’t come up with any methods, strategies, artifices, or anything. I couldn’t come up with any logic, theory, argument, or sophistry.

That’s why, I think…this is my answer.

I was in the classroom after school, stretching wide at my desk. I shifted a little, and my neck and back cracked.

In the end, I’d hardly slept at all that night, so I spent the day at school on barely any sleep. Thanks to that, as soon as I arrived in the classroom, I’d lain facedown on my desk, ignoring everyone and everything all day.

But now I was wide-awake.

I was half in doubt about the answer I’d spent an evening coming to. I still didn’t know whether it was right.

But I couldn’t think of anything else.

I breathed one last big sigh and stood up.

I was headed to one place.

After leaving the classroom, I walked down the hallway.

The chill of the empty hallway didn’t bother me. My blood flow had been on the fast side for a while now; my body temperature was high for no reason. The sound of the wind against the windows and the yelling of the sports clubs in the distance didn’t reach me. I couldn’t hear anything but the words I had to say as I repeated them over and over in my head.

Ahead of me was that door. It was still, silent, and closed.

I waited in front of it and took the slightest of breaths. Then I knocked two, three times. Until now, I’d never knocked to go in. But if I was going to act in accordance with my goal right now, then this was the etiquette.

I waited for a while, but there was no answer from within.

I knocked one more time.

“Come in…,” said a voice faintly through the door.

Huh, I’d never thought about it before, but this is what it sounds like when there’s a door between us. Once I was acknowledged, I put my hand on the handle.

There was a rattling sound as the door caught. It was heavy. Had it always been? With a firm tug, I forced it open.

When I entered, I saw two very surprised faces in their usual places.

“Hikki. Why’re you knocking?” Cell phone in her hand, as it always was, Yui Yuigahama stared at me in confusion.

Yukino Yukinoshita stopped reading, sticking a bookmark in her book before setting it down. She lowered her eyes and focused on the desk in front of her. Quietly, as if talking to herself and no one else, she muttered, “…I said you didn’t have to force yourself to come.”

I waited to speak until she had finished. I wanted to make sure I heard everything. “…I have a reason,” I replied briefly.

She didn’t say anything else, and I just stood there. As we remained like that, a silence fell over us, as if an angel had passed.

Yuigahama looked between Yukinoshita and me, then took a deep breath. “Wh-why don’t you sit down?” she offered.

I nodded back at her and pulled out a nearby chair. When I sat down, the girls were in front of me. For the first time, I realized, Oh, this is what the people who came for consultation and requests always saw. The chair I’d always used before was empty, still diagonally across from Yukinoshita.

“What is it? …You seem kinda different from usual.” Yuigahama sounded uneasy.

Of course I was. I hadn’t come as a member of the club today.

After thinking and puzzling and reflecting, I’d come up with a single answer.

I had made a mistake, and that question had already been answered. I couldn’t resolve the same question again.

But I was sure I could ask it again. This time, this time I would do it the right way, with the right process, and start getting new right answers. I couldn’t think of any other way.

Exhaling a big breath, I squared my gaze on Yukinoshita and Yuigahama.

“I want to make a request.”

After saying them over and over in my head so many times, the words came out smoother than I’d imagined.

Maybe that was why Yuigahama looked relieved to hear it. “Hikki… You’ll actually talk to us…” She smiled warmly.

Yukinoshita did not; she didn’t even come close. Her eyes were on me, but they weren’t seeing me. With that cold gaze on me, my voice slowly got weaker.

“About the Christmas event Isshiki was talking about, it’s in worse shape than I’d ever imagined, and I’d like your help…”

When I managed to finish, Yukinoshita’s gaze dropped, and she began with hesitation. “But…”

“Oh, I know what you’re gonna say.” I cut her off before she could shoot me down. “I chose to do this on my own, and I said this wasn’t for Isshiki, too. But I’m the one who pushed her to be president. If you’re looking for someone to blame, I know it’s me.”

It’d be bad if Yukinoshita were to refuse me now. I didn’t have anything prepared to persuade her, but still, I couldn’t let her tell me no. I set out every reason I could think up. “Do you remember that kid from Chiba Village? She’s the same as before…”

“Oh…Rumi, yes?” Yuigahama made a complicated expression. That event wouldn’t be a pleasant memory for anyone. I’d forced the worst results on all of us. I had helped no one.

That was the way I had been doing things, and I’d made a mess. I didn’t want to get it wrong this time, so I pleaded with her desperately. “So I want to do something. That goes back to what I did, and I know this is a selfish request. But still, I want to make it.”

When I finished, I looked over at Yukinoshita to see her fists laid on the desk were squeezed tight.

“So that’s what you mean by your fault.”

“…Well, I can’t deny it is,” I replied. Whether directly or indirectly, the underlying cause of these problems was my own actions. That was a clear fact.

Yukinoshita lowered her eyes and bit her lip. “I see…” She lifted her face, her voice sounding like a sigh. Her dewy eyes captured me for a moment but immediately looked away again. There was a silence, as if she was searching for the words, and then she calmly began again. “…If these outcomes are your individual responsibility, then you should resolve these issues by yourself.”

My breath caught for a moment. But still, I couldn’t stay silent. Hoarsely, I replied, “…Yeah. Sorry, forget about it.”

I had no more moves to make. There was absolutely nothing else I could think of. And besides, most importantly, she was right according to all the rules and principles.

So this was enough to satisfy me, logically speaking.

I started getting up to leave the clubroom.

But a fervent call followed me. “Wait.” Yuigahama’s voice broke the silence of the cold room.

She looked at me and Yukinoshita with teary eyes.

“That’s not right. Why should you have to do everything yourself? That’s weird,” she said, voice trembling. Yukinoshita and I had been convinced by logic, but Yuigahama judged us wrong based on different reasoning.

That was very her, and my cheeks relaxed a bit. With that weak smile, slowly, wondering who I was even trying to say this to, I replied as if I were explaining to a small child. “No, it’s not weird. You wipe your own ass. That’s obvious.”

“…That’s right,” Yukinoshita agreed after a slight pause.

After Yukinoshita and I had spoken, Yuigahama immediately shook her head. “No! What you guys are saying is all wrong!” She seemed ready to burst into tears at any moment, and when I looked at her face, I felt something tighten in my chest. I wanted to look away, but the kindness in her voice wouldn’t let me.

“Listen, it’s not your individual responsibility, Hikki. Maybe you were the one who thought things up and carried them out. But we’re responsible, too. We pushed everything on you…”

“…No, you didn’t.” I searched for the right rebuttal as she hung her head low. Neither of them had really forced anything on me. In fact, they’d helped me quite a lot.

But when Yuigahama lifted her head and glared at me, she was nearly crying. “We did! It’s not just your fault that things ended up this way. It’s my fault, too, and…” She turned to Yukinoshita. Her gaze implied the responsibility of one more person here.

Yukinoshita returned the stare but didn’t say anything. She pressed her lips tight, bracing for the inevitable accusation.

Yuigahama faltered, unsure how to respond to that, and her next words were quiet. “…And I think what you’re saying is a little dirty, Yukinon.” Her voice was soft, but her gaze was firmly pointed at Yukinoshita. Her eyes were more serious—aggressive, even.

Yukinoshita didn’t break eye contact. After a moment’s pause, as if hesitating as to whether she should say it or not, she replied, “…So now you say that… You’re being unfair, too.” Her voice was quiet yet sharply cold.

Yuigahama bit her lip. Their gazes clashed, nearly glaring at each other.

“Wait, I didn’t come here to play the blame game.” I didn’t care about who was at fault or searching for a culprit. Neither did I want some self-aggrandizing conclusion, like Everyone’s to blame. I’d planned to come here to talk about something else.

I didn’t want to see Yukinoshita and Yuigahama arguing like this.

But they didn’t listen to my call to stop. Both of them locked stares with some reluctance, but nevertheless, the words rushing from their mouths never stopped.

Yuigahama’s white throat trembled as she swallowed. She leveled her teary-eyed gaze at Yukinoshita and slowly put together the words. “You won’t talk to us, Yukinon… Sometimes people won’t understand unless you speak up.”

“…You didn’t speak up, either. You just kept pretending nothing had happened.” Yukinoshita’s voice was icy. Her face reminded me of a frozen sculpture as she dispassionately stated simple facts. She must have been referring to how we’d been spending our club time lately. “So I figured if that was what you…what you two wanted…,” she added in an almost inaudible mutter, and Yuigahama ground to a halt.

Yukinoshita had been feeling it, too. This room was cold and hollow, and the three of us inside were patiently waiting for it to end.

Yuigahama and I had both accepted that temporary folly. And maybe our choice had forced Yukinoshita to be like that, too.

All of us had failed to speak the truth. All of us had failed to say anything we’d wanted.

We’d made assumptions. About one another—about how we would act.

But ideals and understanding are completely different things.

“…People won’t understand if you don’t speak up?” I repeated.

Yuigahama’s words stuck in my chest. If you don’t speak up, then people won’t understand. That’s clear enough. But will they understand even if you do?

Yuigahama turned to me after the sudden question slipped from my lips. Yukinoshita was staring at the ground. Prompted by Yuigahama’s gaze, I commented, “But sometimes, even if you do speak up, people won’t get it.”

Yuigahama’s mouth twisted sadly. Droplets rose in the corners of her eyes, ready to fall. That was why I tried to speak as kindly as I could. “…I don’t think I’d be persuaded by anything people say. I might decide there’s something behind their words or assume there’s a hidden motive for what they’re saying.”

Yukinoshita tended to be overly laconic, and Yuigahama avoided things by speaking vaguely.

And on top of that, I had the habit of reading too much into what people say.

That was why when Yukinoshita had said she was going to run for president, even if she had spoken about it more directly, I doubt I’d have taken her words at face value. In attempting to divine her real intentions, I would have taken whatever she said and tangled it up with other ideas until eventually I got it wrong anyway.

People only see what they want to see and hear what they want to hear. I’m no exception.

Yuigahama rubbed at her eyes, then jerked her head up. “But if you just come out and talk about it more—if I could talk more with you, Hikki, then I…”

“No.” I shook my head slowly at her words.

Everyone says, “I won’t understand if you don’t speak up”—but they don’t how hard it is to communicate. They just picked up the idea from someone else somewhere and swallowed it wholesale.

But it’s common enough for people not to understand, and there are things that will break if you speak.

“It’s arrogant to believe someone will understand just because you told them something. The one saying it is only doing it for their own benefit, and the one hearing it is thinking too highly of themselves… After what’s done is done, discussion won’t necessarily lead to an understanding. So I don’t want words.” As I spoke, I trembled a little. I happened to glance outside the window and saw the sunset was gradually nearing. The room was getting colder.

Yukinoshita was silent as she listened to everything, but she gently wrapped her arms around her shoulders, as if warming herself.

Yuigahama sniffed, then wiped her eyes. Tearfully, she said, “But if you don’t say anything, then you’ll never know…”

“Yeah… It’s a fantasy to think you could understand without words… But… But I…”

As I searched for the rest of what I was about to say, my vision got cloudy.

Before me, there were no words to be found. All I saw were eyes rubbed red and a profile with long eyelashes lowered toward the ground.

Suddenly, the image blurred.

“I…” I repeated myself, but I couldn’t figure out what would come next.

What should I say? I’d already voiced everything I’d wanted to, all the concerns that had been on my mind. I’d already considered the words I needed to ask the questions again, to stack them all up from square one. There was honestly nothing left. I’d exhausted everything.

Ahhh, that’s right. In the end, everything I was trying to say was just deliberation and logic, nothing more than calculation, technique, and artifice. I could run with it as far as I wanted and think about it over and over, but the result would always be the same.

But even though I still couldn’t understand this situation at all, no matter how far I mulled it over, I was still searching for something I should say, what I wanted to say. I knew they wouldn’t get it, whatever I said. I knew it was pointless, but…

I didn’t want words. But what I wanted definitely existed.

It’s not that I want us to understand one another, be friends, talk, or be together. I don’t need them to understand me. I know they won’t, and I don’t wish them to. What I’m looking for is something harsher and more severe. I want to know. I want to understand. I want to know so I can feel relief. I want peace of mind, because ignorance is absolutely terrifying. Complete understanding is such a self-righteous, selfish, and arrogant thing to wish for. It’s despicable and repulsive, really. I’m beyond disgusted with myself for wanting it.

But if—if we could feel the same way…

If we could impose that ugly self-satisfaction on one another, if there’s some sort of relationship that could permit that arrogance…

I know something like that is absolutely impossible. I bet I’ll never attain something like that.

I’m sure the grapes out of my reach are sour.

But I don’t need fruit sweet like lies. I don’t need false understanding or phony relationships.

What I want is those sour grapes.

Even if it’s sour, even if it’s bitter, even if it tastes bad, even if it’s pure poison, even if it doesn’t exist, even if I can’t acquire it, even if what I want cannot be allowed…

“Still…” The word came out of me unbidden, and even I could hear it trembling.

“Still, I…” I fought down the sob that nearly escaped and tried to swallow the sound along with the rest of the sentence, but they both came out in fragments. My teeth rattled, and my throat was tight as the words left my mouth anyway.

“I want…something real.”

My eyes felt hot. My vision was blurry. I could hear nothing but the sound of my breathing.

Yukinoshita and Yuigahama were both staring at me, surprise on their faces.

What a mess, hoarse and pathetic and pleading on the verge of tears. I didn’t want to accept myself like this. I didn’t want to show it. I didn’t want to be seen. What I was saying was incoherent anyway. There was no logic or cause and effect anywhere. This was nonsense.

My throat was trembling with every hot, damp breath that threatened to become another sob to stifle.

“Hikki…,” Yuigahama said to me, gently reaching out her hand. But the distance between us was too great. Her hand wouldn’t reach me, and she dropped it weakly.

Not just her hand. I don’t know if my words reached her, either.

What could they understand from what I was saying? I was sure they wouldn’t understand, even after all that. But I’d still spoken up for myself more than anything else. Or maybe that choice was the very deception we detested. Maybe it was a hopeless counterfeit.

But no matter how I turned it over in my head, no answer emerged. I had no idea what to do. So all that remained at the end was, honestly, this hopeless wish.

“I…don’t understand,” Yukinoshita murmured. Her arms around her shoulders squeezed harder, and her expression twisted painfully. With a quick, quiet apology, Yukinoshita stood from her seat. Without looking at us, she continued quickly toward the door.

“Yukinon!” Yuigahama stood, about to follow her. But in concern for me, she turned around.

I could only watch.

Hazy though it was, I saw Yukinoshita leave the clubroom, and then I purged the hot breaths stored up in my chest.

Maybe I was kind of relieved it was finally over.

“Hikki.” As I sat there, Yuigahama grabbed my arm. Then she tugged me to my feet. Her face and mine came close. With wet eyes brimming with tears, she looked straight into mine. “…We have to go.”

“No, but…”

The conclusion had already been made. There were no more words to say or feelings to communicate. A dry, somewhat self-deprecating laugh slipped from me, and I turned away.

But she didn’t back down.

“We’ll go together! …Yukinon said she didn’t understand. I think she doesn’t know what she should do, either… I don’t get it at all, either, but— But we can’t let it end here! We have to understand! It has to be now. I’ve never seen her like that! So we have to go…,” she insisted. She released my arm, taking my hand instead. Her hand was hot, squeezing tight.

One more time, she pulled my arm—more gently than before. It felt timid, as if she was testing me. I think she didn’t actually know what to do herself. Still holding my hand, she stared at me anxiously.

That was why I gently shook off her grip.

As soon as I did, her arm dropped weakly, and she looked like she was about to cry.

But that wasn’t what I meant. I wouldn’t take someone’s hand out of unease. I didn’t want to have someone supporting me because I couldn’t walk alone. It wasn’t time to hold hands with someone yet.

Right now, I’d walk properly—on my own two feet.

“…I can walk by myself. I’m fine. Let’s go,” I said and headed for the door first.

“Y-yeah!” she called, and I could hear her following. Checking she was behind me, I opened the door and came out into the hallway.

And Iroha Isshiki was right there, frozen in shock.

“Ah, hi… U-uhhh, I meant to say something, but…” She looked panicked as she tried to talk her way out of this, but now wasn’t the time to be bothering with her.

“Iroha-chan? Sorry, another time, okay?” Yuigahama turned her aside and ran off.

I was about to follow after her when Isshiki called me to a stop. “Th-there’s no meeting today! I came to say that… A-and—”

“Yeah, got it,” I replied without letting her finish. Yuigahama was waiting for me a little ways down the hall, but before I could run after her, there was a tug on my blazer’s sleeve.

I looked over, thinking, What, already? to see Isshiki sighing in exasperation. Then she pointed upward. “Let me finish, please… Yukinoshita went up the stairs!”

“Sorry. Thanks,” I said to Isshiki and immediately called out to Yuigahama. “Yuigahama, she’s up above.”

Yuigahama rushed straight back to me, and the two of us climbed the stairs of the special-use building.

If Isshiki was right, Yukinoshita had probably run to the aerial corridor.

The fourth-floor hallway that connected the school building and the special building was uncovered, like a roof. Because it was exposed to the wind, it was especially cold around this time of winter, and hardly anyone used it.

We rushed up the stairs to arrive at the landing directly below the aerial corridor.

Opening the glass door, I stepped outside.

The special-use building blocked off the afterglow in the west, and the setting sun poured down on the corridor through the glass. The sky in the east was beginning to grow dark.

On the aerial corridor on the cusp of sunset, we found Yukinoshita.

She was leaning against the railing, lost in thought while her hair fluttered in the cold wind. The sunset illuminated her sleek black hair and white porcelain skin. Her sorrowful eyes gazed into the distance, toward the crowds of tall buildings that were beginning to light up for the night.

“Yukinon!”

Yuigahama ran up to Yukinoshita, and I followed at a slower pace. I was breathing hard after the sprint up the steps.

“Yukinoshita…,” I called between pants, but she didn’t turn around.

But it seemed she did hear me, nevertheless. “…I…don’t understand,” she murmured, her voice unsteady.

Those words again.

They stopped my feet right where they were.

A chilly wind blew through, cutting the way between us, and Yukinoshita spun around. Her wet eyes were listless, and her hand against her chest was clenched tight, like she was holding something back.

The wind tossed her hair until it was completely disheveled, but she made no attempt to fix it. With a tinge of hoarseness in her voice, she asked, “What do you mean by something real?”

“Well…”

I didn’t really know, myself. I’d never seen anything truly real before and never experienced anything like it. I didn’t know what I could point to and say, Yeah, this is it. Of course, there was no way anyone else could understand, either. But that was what I wished for.

When I was unable to reply, Yuigahama stepped forward and gently laid her hand on Yukinoshita’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Yukinon.”

“…What is?” Yukinoshita asked, and Yuigahama smiled bashfully.

“I actually don’t really get it, either…” Stroking her bun to cover her awkwardness, Yuigahama retracted her smile. Then she took one more step toward Yukinoshita, placing another hand on Yukinoshita’s other shoulder and looking straight at her. “So I think if we talk it over, we’ll understand better. But I probably won’t get it, even then. And I probably never will. But, like, I guess I understand that… Actually, I don’t really get it. But… But…I…”

A single tear streaked down Yuigahama’s cheek.

“I…don’t wanna leave it like this…,” she said, pulling Yukinoshita into a hug. And as if the thread of tension had broken, she sobbed. Yukinoshita was unable to return her embrace, breaths slipping through her trembling lips.

I shifted my eyes away.

I had mulled it over, but the answer I had given was the only one I could get. Those words were the only ones that would come out. So how could she— How could Yuigahama speak so clearly?

One of us could only employ a roundabout, twisted, and falsehood-tinged truth.

One of us was unable to put the feelings she had into words, and so she kept silent.

You can’t communicate without words, and yet words only create more problems—so then exactly what could we understand?

The conviction Yukino Yukinoshita had. The relationship Yui Yuigahama sought. The something real Hachiman Hikigaya wanted.

I still didn’t know how different those things might be.

But honest tears were the one thing that told me—that this, right now, wasn’t wrong.

Yukinoshita gently stroked Yuigahama’s hair, against her shoulder.

“Why are you crying…? You really are…unfair.” Clinging to Yuigahama, Yukinoshita pushed her face into the other girl’s shoulder. I could hear a quiet sob.

The two of them stood there, supporting each other. Eventually, Yukinoshita exhaled a long breath and lifted her face. “…Hikigaya.”

“Yeah?” I replied, waiting for her to continue.

Yukinoshita wasn’t looking at me. But I still felt the strong, resolute will in her voice. “We accept your request.”

“…Sorry.” I lowered my head. Despite how short the word was, my voice nearly shook. When I lifted my face, Yuigahama also raised her head from Yukinoshita’s shoulder.

“I’ll help, too…,” she said in a tight voice, turning toward me. When her eyes met mine, she gave me a teary-eyed smile.

“…Thanks,” I said, and then for no reason, I looked up at the sky.

The orange sunset was starting to blur.