I ended up in a group I didn't get along with 

Cultural Festival

Two months had passed, and I still hadn't found an answer to Watarai's confession. With only a few days left until the cultural festival, the atmosphere in the classroom was tense rather than excited. It wasn't just the boys and girls who were at odds. Even amongst the girls, opinions differed and an awkward atmosphere lingered, although there hadn't been any major arguments.

 

“Isn't that the wrong colour?”

 

“Why? It's right.”

 

“We haven't got enough fabric, so go and ask another class for some.”

 

“You already borrowed some the other day. Can't you use something else?”

 

Barbed remarks flew back and forth. I lowered my gaze as though trying to shut out the atmosphere, running my paintbrush over the same piece of cardboard again and again as I quietly spoke to the person beside me.

 

“Was it always like this?”

 

“…I think it used to be better than it is now.”

 

By ‘always’, I meant the afternoons before we'd entered the cultural festival preparation period. Sports clubs took priority over festival preparations, so the cultural clubs had been handling most of the work.

 

After answering, Watarai dipped his paintbrush into a cup of water and swirled it around. He wasn't painting anything, just stirring the water. In other words, he clearly didn't want to do any work.

 

It wasn't only Watarai. Nakazato, Hotta and Morizaki were also pretending to work while chatting or fiddling with their phones. One of our classmates on the festival committee had handed me some supplies, asked me to fill in the unpainted areas, and led me to a piece of cardboard whose purpose I couldn't begin to guess. I'd been following those instructions ever since.

 

Paint inevitably ran out as you used it, and the tube that had once been full was now completely flattened.

 

I stopped working and got up.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

Watarai caught my arm, sounding alarmed.

 

“Just to borrow some paint.”

 

“Oh… right.”

 

He glanced at my empty palette and reluctantly let go. My back ached from sitting for so long. I stretched, straightening my spine until it cracked, then approached a nearby classmate.

 

“Can I borrow some white paint?”

 

“Huh? White? …Sure, I guess.”

 

Despite agreeing, he sounded irritated. His unfriendly attitude annoyed me, but if I responded in kind, the mood would only get worse.

 

“Thanks for the paint. By the way, you're really good at drawing. My art grades aren't great, so I'm jealous.”

 

I deliberately kept my voice as cheerful as possible. The classmate, who'd been facing away from me, immediately turned round. For some reason, his expression crumpled as though he were about to cry. He grabbed my shoulders and began speaking, trembling.

 

“Hioki… you're the only one who's complimented me…”

 

“…R-really? I thought everyone must have said so.”

 

“No! Not at all! I don't know if everyone thinks I should naturally be good at drawing because I'm in the art club, but you're the first!”

 

“I see… Well, thanks for everything you've done.”

 

“H-Hioki… you're incredible… Marry—”

 

“No.”

 

The reply came from behind me before I could say anything. When I turned, Watarai was approaching with a smile fixed firmly on his face.

 

“Thanks for the paint.”

 

He took the tube of white paint and tugged at my tracksuit. I stumbled, and my classmate's hands slipped from my shoulders. Leaving the stunned boy behind, I returned to our work area and sat beside a sulking Watarai.

 

“Is it really that bad when I talk to someone else?”

 

“…It's not bad, but what he was saying wasn't exactly appropriate.”

 

“He was obviously joking.”

 

“Then marry me.”

 

“What?”

 

“Marry me.”

 

“No, it's different when you say it!”

 

Because Watarai liked me, didn't he? There was no way I could take that as a joke. We were bickering like primary school children, something that had become increasingly common with Watarai's strange behaviour lately, when Morizaki interrupted.

 

“Watarai, someone's calling for you.”

 

“…Again?”

 

Watarai glanced at the doorway and sighed deeply. Following his gaze, I spotted a small figure, probably a girl.

 

“What's she called you out for?”

 

I watched Watarai trudge towards her.

 

“A confession. Obviously.”

 

Nakazato laughed in exasperation.

 

“This happens every time there's a school event, doesn't it?”

 

“Next one will probably come just before Christmas.”

 

Hotta and Morizaki spoke with distant looks in their eyes.

 

“So you three have been confessed to a few times as well?”

 

They were popular, so naturally girls must have been queuing up to confess to them. I could already guess the answer, but I asked anyway. The three exchanged glances and nodded, looking exhausted.

 

“One waited for me at the school gates.”

 

“I got a letter in my shoe locker that looked like a challenge to a duel.”

 

“Mine was in front of the station. Actually, on the platform.”

 

That sounded exhausting.

 

As I imagined what they had to put up with, I felt Morizaki's eyes on me. But he didn't say anything, so I tilted my head. What? I haven't got any stories about girls confessing to me.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing… I was just thinking that he's probably getting impatient too.”

 

“Impatient about what? Who is?”

 

“You'll understand eventually.”

 

Morizaki looked away, clearly unwilling to say more. He could at least have given me a hint.

 

“What were you talking about?”

 

Watarai returned just as the conversation ended. Although he'd asked a question, he simply sat beside me and began stroking my head as though checking something. Usually his hand moved away quickly, but this time he took his time touching my head, cheeks and even my ears.

 

It was unusual for him to touch me this much in front of the other three, especially in the classroom. Something really had been strange about Watarai lately. When his fingers brushed my neck, a shiver ran through me.

 

“W-wait… Watarai, hold on—”

 

“Hioki, someone's calling for you.”

 

Just as I pushed against Watarai's shoulder to make some space, a classmate's voice came from above.

 

“Who?”

 

Our classmate pointed towards the classroom door, looking bewildered. And no wonder. Although he'd said it was me someone wanted, the person who'd replied ‘Who?’ was Watarai.

 

I looked at him in surprise too.

 

His usual composure was gone. Sitting a little straighter, he spotted the figure standing in the doorway, and his face tightened.

 

A girl was standing there.

 

“A confession…?”

 

Nakazato murmured.

 

Something tugged at the hem of my tracksuit. Looking up, I saw Watarai gazing at me with eyes full of anxiety and worry.

 

“It'll be okay.”

 

That was all I could think to say.

 

Watarai didn't answer. I felt bad keeping the girl waiting, so I gently removed his hand from my tracksuit and went over to her.

 

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

 

“No, it's fine. Um, there's something I'd like to talk to you about…”

 

The colours of her tie and regulation sandals showed that she was a first-year. Perhaps she didn't feel comfortable on the upper-year floor, because the small girl standing before me lowered her eyebrows.

 

“Would it be all right if we went somewhere else?”

 

We went downstairs and walked along a corridor in the opposite direction from the first-year classrooms. When we reached the deserted area behind the school building, she suddenly turned and held out something she'd been clutching tightly.

 

“Um, this…”

 

It was a cute letter, decorated mainly in pink and white. One glance at the addressee confirmed my suspicions.

 

“Could you please give this to Watarai-senpai?”

 

I knew it.

 

I'd had a feeling from the moment I'd stood in front of her. Her gaze hadn't been on me but somewhere deeper inside our classroom. I'd assumed she was after one of the four boys.

 

Hadn't she chosen the wrong person to summon up her courage in front of?

 

I sighed inwardly and gently took the letter.

 

“Of course. I'll give it to him.”

 

“Th-thank you very much…”

 

“Could I ask you just one question?”

 

“Huh? Yes…”

 

She clearly hadn't expected the mere messenger to ask her anything. Confusion spread across her face. Disappointed in myself for being a little mean, I looked at her.

 

“What do you like about Watarai?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Ah, it doesn't mean anything in particular. I was just curious.”

 

“Oh… I see.”

 

I knew I had no right to ask her that. Even so, I wanted some kind of clue that might help me answer Watarai's confession. I waited quietly. After thinking carefully, the girl's cheeks flushed.

 

“When I first saw him, I liked his face… Oh! Of course, it's not just because of his looks!”

 

She hurriedly shook her head.

 

First impressions inevitably involved someone's appearance. Whether or not he was my type, I'd thought Watarai was good-looking from the moment we met too. She looked up at me, searching my expression. I smiled to encourage her to go on.

 

“And I think he'd really cherish someone if they were dating.”

 

I understood that too.

 

People called him my intensely devoted fan, so there was no doubt he was loyal. I'd experienced that myself.

 

“And he's kind. I don't think he'd ever be mean or tease someone.”

 

Well, he did have a rather outrageous habit of waking me by pulling off my duvet. But perhaps that was because we were both boys. I could agree that he was kind. He was generally considerate, and I didn't think he was short-tempered.

 

So other people saw him the same way after all. Satisfied, I was about to end the conversation, but perhaps talking about Watarai had stirred up her feelings. She continued enthusiastically.

 

“And he seems reserved, like he wouldn't push too hard and would respect your personal space.”

 

I wasn't sure about that.

 

If anything, he was always close to me, taking every opportunity to tell me he liked me. He held my hand and clung to me regardless of where we were. Did that look like respecting someone's personal space to other people? Was it just considered normal behaviour between schoolboys?

 

An involuntary sound escaped me at her unexpected comment, but she carried on without noticing.

 

“He's always so refreshing and pleasant. I don't think he'd get jealous or try to control someone.”

 

He gets incredibly jealous, actually.

 

Even he must realise that.

 

As for being controlling… hadn't he said something like, ‘I can't make rules for you unless we're dating’? Yes. He definitely had that tendency. It seemed that while girls wanted to become the ideal partner for the person they liked, they also built up an idealised image of that person in their own minds.

 

“Hypothetically, if Watarai turned out to have a different personality from the one you imagine, would you be disappointed?”

 

I'd meant to end the conversation, but her enthusiasm drew another question out of me. She blinked her large eyes, glanced about uncertainly and answered without much confidence.

 

“I wouldn't go so far as to say disappointed… but I think I'd be a little shocked. B-but! I still want to date him and accept those parts of him too!”

 

“…I-I see.”

 

Wouldn't someone like her be better suited to dating Watarai than someone as half-hearted as me? Of course I liked Watarai too, but my feelings seemed tiny compared with hers. Besides, surely Watarai would be happier with someone whose feelings for him were stronger…

 

“Thank you for answering all my questions. I'll pass the letter on.”

 

“No, I'm sorry I got so carried away. P-please do!”

 

“There are teachers patrolling, so be careful on your way back to class.”

 

“Yes! Thank you very much!”

 

She bowed and disappeared into the school building. If anything, she looked refreshed, almost dazzling. Once her small figure was out of sight, I leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to sit on the ground. I think my feelings had actually been taking shape little by little.

 

I'd started to realise that I liked Watarai too. All that had been left was to tell him. Yet the straightforward look in that girl's eyes had made me waver. I knew Watarai better than she did, and I liked him more.

 

“Haha… how pathetic…”

 

The words slipped from my mouth and fell towards the cold ground. If she liked him that much, I wished she'd told him herself. If she could be so earnest, surely she had the courage for that.

 

Why? Why did she have to hand the letter to me, of all people?

 

Love hurt.

 

Liking someone hurt.

 

A bell rang somewhere in the distance. I let out a small breath and forced my heavy legs to stand. This might have been the first time I'd ever been frightened of going back into the classroom.

 

The atmosphere in every classroom was still tense enough to feel from the corridor. Being surrounded by it only worsened my mood. Apparently, I'd been gone for only a few minutes. The classroom decorations hadn't changed much since I'd left.

 

When I returned to our work area, all four boys looked up at me. Everyone seemed tense. Watarai's expression was twisted into something I couldn't read—anxiety, worry or anger. Perhaps he'd gone so far past those feelings that he looked almost blank.

 

“Don't look at me like that. It wasn't a confession. I was just asked to deliver a letter.”

 

I tried to smile and sound as normal as possible.

 

“Oh, so it wasn't that… A letter? You mean the one you're holding?”

 

Nakazato visibly relaxed.

 

Everyone's gaze settled on the letter in my hand. It was obviously a love letter, and the atmosphere froze again.

 

How much easier would this have been if it had been addressed to anyone else?

 

“It's for Watarai. From a first-year girl—”

 

Smack.

 

A sharp, dry sound rang out.

 

For a moment, I couldn't understand what had happened. The letter I'd held out fluttered to the floor. My hand stung with heat and had turned red. For the first time, Watarai had rejected me.

 

Only the space around us seemed to have been cut off from the rest of the classroom, falling silent. Everyone stared at Watarai with wide eyes. But Watarai himself looked more shocked than anyone. The hand he'd used to knock mine away was trembling slightly.

 

I crouched and picked up the fallen letter. As though my movement were a signal, the tension finally broke.

 

“S-sorry…”

 

Watarai's voice sounded terribly weak.

 

All I could do was give a tiny nod.

 

I wished I could have smiled and said it was fine. I wished I could have joked that he must be sick of all these confessions. But I knew that if I said even one word, I'd cry.

 

I couldn't speak.

 

Heat gradually gathered behind my eyes.

 

“…Hioki.”

 

A large hand gently touched my shoulder. I couldn't lift my lowered head. I kept staring at the letter, trying to force a reassuring smile onto my face, but it wouldn't come.

 

“Come with me.”

 

He gently took my arm and led me away. As we left the classroom, I heard Morizaki call casually, “Take your time.”

 

During festival preparations, plenty of classrooms were left unused. They weren't exactly empty, though. Desks and materials that weren't needed had been crammed into them, turning them into makeshift storerooms.

 

We entered an unused room a little way from our classroom. Watarai tilted his head, studying my expression.

 

“Can I hug you?”

 

“…Yeah.”

 

I nodded, and he embraced me with movements that were unusually awkward for him.

 

“I'm sorry about earlier. It's not because I've stopped liking you. I just got confused about a lot of things…”

 

“…Yeah.”

 

I wrapped my arms around his back and gripped his tracksuit tightly. When I rested my head against his shoulder, snuggling closer, his embrace tightened further.

 

“I love you, Hioki. I love you so much.”

 

“…Yeah.”

 

I was disgusted by my own inadequacy. He told me how he felt so openly, yet a conversation with a girl I'd met for the first time today had almost made me give up on facing my own feelings for him.

 

“…Talking to that girl made me waver so easily.”

 

I stepped away from Watarai and murmured the words. When I sank to the floor, he sat beside me and listened. The tears I'd been holding back slipped down my cheeks, and my voice trembled. But now that my feelings had begun spilling out, stopping them was almost impossible.

 

“She talked so seriously about everything she likes about you. So… I started thinking that maybe a girl like her should be the one dating you.”

 

The moment I said it, the atmosphere seemed to change.

 

Perhaps I'd made him angry.

 

I couldn't look up. Tears kept spilling down my cheeks.

 

“I thought… I should just end this… because I don't want to keep… agonising over it.”

 

Gradually, I lost track of what I was saying and what I was trying to tell him.

 

“But… even though I was trying to give up… when you rejected me, Watarai… it hurt so much my mind went completely blank…”

 

My throat caught with a sob. I couldn't breathe properly, and my chest felt painfully tight. When Watarai confessed to me at the beach, I'd cried as I tried to explain my feelings. I'd promised to work hard to find an answer and asked him to give me time.

 

But that decision had only made things harder for me. There had never been one correct answer in the first place. Simply putting things off wouldn't help me understand anything.

 

“…I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about how much you were worrying and suffering, Hioki.”

 

Watarai's gentle voice reached my ears. I wiped my eyes and looked up. He was smiling helplessly.

 

No. That wasn't what I wanted. I hadn't meant to make him apologise. Still crying, I wrapped my arms around his stiff back.

 

“That's not it… You've told me so many times that you like me, Watarai… but I…”

 

“Yeah.”

 

The tension eased, and warm arms enclosed me. Then something rustled as his hand seemed to brush against the letter I'd stuffed into my pocket. That sound triggered something inside me.

 

“I know you… better than that girl does… and I like you… so much more than she does… dozens, hundreds, hundreds of millions of times more…”

 

“Yeah…”

 

The hand stroking my back stopped dead. I suddenly felt lonely and hugged him even tighter. From where our bodies touched, I could feel his heart pounding.

 

I heard his breathing shake. Then the almost feverish warmth of his body moved away.

 

“Hioki, what did you just say?”

 

“Huh? Just now? That I know you better than she does…”

 

“Yeah. That too, but what came after?”

 

“After…? That I… like you… more…”

 

As I repeated what I'd said, my thoughts stopped for several seconds.

 

Like.

 

I'd said it. I really had said it.

 

“Ah… that was… um…”

 

“It's fine. Whether it's true or not, you told me you like me. That's enough for today.”

 

Watarai smiled blissfully and flopped backwards onto the dusty floor without a care. He covered his mouth and shook with quiet laughter. I could only stare at him.

 

“…Is it that funny?”

 

“Hmm? Oh, no. I'm just laughing because I'm relieved.”

 

“Relieved?”

 

“Yeah. I've been feeling impatient for a while now.”

 

The word ‘impatient’ reminded me of what Morizaki had said earlier: ‘He's probably getting impatient too.’ Watarai himself supplied the explanation.

 

“It was like this last year too. Whenever there's a big school event, I get confessed to a lot. It's like people want to make a memory.”

 

“A memory?”

 

“Yeah. Like proof they're enjoying their youth. And after being confessed to a few times, I started getting worried.”

 

“Why?”

 

I tilted my head as I looked down at him. His beautifully shaped eyebrows drooped.

 

“I wondered if this was how you felt, Hioki. Being confessed to out of the blue by someone you didn't like… You're kind, so you've been thinking seriously about my feelings.”

 

He paused before continuing.

 

“I started imagining that someone might confess to you too, and that something might happen… I got impatient because I wanted you to choose me soon.”

 

I see.

 

So that was what had been behind the strange feeling I'd had about him lately.

 

“It wasn't a lie,” I murmured, hoping to ease his worries.

 

“I like you, Watarai.”

 

“Yeah. Thank you.”

 

His large palm stroked my cheek. I narrowed my eyes at the gentle touch, and a smile spread across his face. His fingers moved from my cheek to my lips. After softly feeling them, his hand slid to the back of my head and gently drew me closer.

 

My heart thudded.

 

I didn't want to pull away. Not even a millimetre.

 

It would be my first kiss, though.

 

I slowly closed my eyes.

 

Just as our two silhouettes were about to meet—

 

“Sorry to interrupt, but can you two come back already?”

 

The door flew open.

 

Huh? Now?

 

I froze, my face just centimetres from Watarai's. Morizaki, the culprit who'd flung the door open, looked down at us and jerked his chin towards our classroom. I didn't want him to overreact, but complete indifference was surprisingly hurtful too.

 

“You deliberately picked that moment, didn't you?”

 

“Who knows? What are you talking about?”

 

Morizaki gave Watarai a bright, fixed smile and left. The tension drained out of me, and I dropped my head against Watarai's chest. His heartbeat felt even faster than it had when he'd hugged me.

 

“…Shall we go back?”

 

“Wait.”

 

He gently caught my arm and stopped me. Before I could turn around, something soft touched my skin.

 

“Huh?”

 

It happened so quickly that my brain froze.

 

“You just… kissed me…”

 

“Yeah, I did.”

 

“Oh…”

 

I traced the cheek he'd kissed. It gradually grew warm, until even the fingertips touching it felt hot.

 

We were about to go back to class. How could he do that now?

 

“By the way, my motto is that I only kiss people I like.”

 

Watarai stood and offered me his hand. Still dazed, I took it. Something slipped out of my pocket. The letter, now creased in several places, landed on the floor with a lonely rustle.

 

I picked it up and cautiously held it out to Watarai.

 

“…Do you want this?”

 

“…It's addressed to me, so I'll take it. Just in case.”

 

He folded the letter neatly and slipped it into his pocket. I felt sorry for the girl whose name I didn't even know. But if anyone ever asked me to act as a messenger again, I'd recommend that they tell the person how they felt directly instead of handing over a letter.

 

“The costumes and class T-shirts have arrived, so try them on! If anything doesn't fit or there's a problem, let us know!”

 

A festival committee member thumped a cardboard box onto the teacher's desk. Our classmates crowded round, excited by the newly finished costumes. Class Five's theme was a Halloween café.

 

Rather than letting everyone wear whatever costume they liked, we'd chosen a medieval European aristocratic theme for a unified look. It mostly involved frilled shirts and waistcoats, with accessories such as devil horns or wolf ears. Apparently, the girls would wear long maid dresses.

 

It wasn't especially original, but that meant we could concentrate on making the costumes look good.

 

“Hioki, wear this… and this too.”

 

While I was choosing accessories, Watarai placed wolf ears on my head. They weren't much different from the headbands we'd worn at the theme park. The main difference this time was probably the tail.

 

I fastened a belt around my waist, and a fluffy tail swayed behind me. Reaching back to touch it, I felt how wonderfully soft it was.

 

“Cute.”

 

Watarai's melting voice reached my ears. He was the only person giving off a dreamy, fluffy atmosphere that didn't match the tension in the room at all. I laughed at the sight of him. Then, as though experiencing déjà vu, I heard a classmate call out.

 

“Hioki, someone's asking for you!”

 

“Who?”

 

“Huh? Oh, someone from your club…”

 

Our classmate mentioned my clubmates' names. Once again, it wasn't me who'd asked ‘Who?’ but Watarai. Unlike last time, though, he now looked relieved.

 

“Come back in three seconds.”

 

There was his familiar unreasonable demand. I was more concerned about what I was wearing. Even if it was only Tsujitani and the others, meeting them dressed like this when it wasn't even the festival day was embarrassing. I hurriedly reached for my shirt to get changed, but an incredibly loud voice called from the doorway.

 

“HIII-OOO-KIII! Hurry up or we'll decide your shift without you!”

 

“We'll put you on the very last shift so you have to clean everything up!”

 

“You've got one second to get here!”

 

Cruel. Far too cruel.

 

I let go of my shirt and hurried over. Forcing myself past the embarrassment, I stepped into the corridor. Tsujitani and Ino blinked in surprise.

 

“Whoa, what's this? A makeover?”

 

“Have you changed direction from extrovert-in-training?”

 

“Ooh, that tail's really fluffy!”

 

“…Just tell me what you want.”

 

I slapped away Minase's hand as he touched the tail, scowling with embarrassment. After having a good laugh at me, they held out a sheet of paper. The heading read ‘Club Reception Duty Rota’.

 

“Huh? Don't tell me our club's doing reception duty?”

 

When I looked up, Tsujitani and Ino nodded firmly.

 

“Yep. Afraid so.”

 

“Other clubs are doing it too, so apparently we only have to take one shift.”

 

“But like we said, whoever gets the last shift has to help clean up afterwards.”

 

Minase, who still hadn't let go of my tail, murmured this while stroking the soft material. I gave up trying to stop him and looked over the rota. The only free slots were at eleven o'clock and four o'clock.

 

“Why's almost everything already filled in?”

 

“Apparently, our club adviser forgot to tell us about it.”

 

Ino gave a dry laugh.

 

What was our adviser playing at? He needed to get his act together. I sighed and checked the paper again, although the answer was obvious.

 

Four o'clock was the last shift. Naturally, I wanted eleven o'clock, without even having to think about it.

 

“…You wouldn't have come all this way to tell me unless there was some catch, would you?”

 

I gave my clubmates a suspicious look. All three turned their faces in different directions.

 

“Well, um… the remaining shifts have to be taken by us or the first-years.”

 

“And we wondered what our kind-hearted Hioki would think.”

 

“Whether your conscience might trouble you…”

 

The faces of our younger clubmates came to mind. Even if this was our adviser's fault, they wouldn't want the final shift either. If Tsujitani and the others had decided without me, I wouldn't have thought much about it. Instead, they'd apparently decided to drag me into the dilemma with them.

 

“Well, what about you lot? Fine. Let's all say which time we want on the count of three.”

 

When they hesitated, I decided to force an answer out of them.

 

“Ready, set—”

 

Sorry, juniors.

 

Please forgive your not-so-kind seniors. It wasn't the sort of thing that would damage our friendship, but I still felt a slow sense of guilt building up. Tsujitani seemed to feel the same, because he changed the subject to dispel the awkwardness.

 

“Right, I'll let the adviser know. Anyway, what's your class doing?”

 

“Hmm? Oh, a Halloween café.”

 

“What are you selling?”

 

Minase, who'd been touching my tail this whole time, instantly looked up at the word ‘café’.

 

“What was it again…? Cookies and crêpes, I think.”

 

His face lit up with delight at the answer. But he still wouldn't stop touching my tail. Honestly, every movement of the tail sent a vibration through the belt around my waist. It tickled.

 

“Wait, is that really so nice to touch?”

 

Ino, apparently curious too, reached for the tail. The tickling around my waist only grew worse. Maybe I should just take off the belt and let them play with it. I was reaching for the buckle when someone suddenly pulled my shoulder backwards.

 

“No touching.”

 

A low, displeased voice sounded beside my ear. I turned to find Watarai looking down at my clubmates with narrowed eyes. The three of them blinked at his unexpected warning. Practically covered in question marks, they looked towards me.

 

They didn't know anything about our situation, so I couldn't blame them for being confused. As I considered how to explain Watarai's jealousy, Minase unexpectedly spoke first.

 

“Hang on. Isn't that Hioki's decision, not yours?”

 

“What?”

 

Watarai's voice dropped even lower.

 

The atmosphere became unbearably heavy. I tried to intervene, but Tsujitani and Ino spoke first.

 

“Y-yeah, exactly. It's not like we're trying to eat Hioki alive.”

 

“Right! I-I get that you're jealous because we're close to Hioki, but…”

 

His voice trembled slightly with nerves, but then Ino stopped and seemed to realise something.

 

“Oh, I get it! You're jealous because we're such good friends with Hioki!”

 

He raised an accusing finger. Tsujitani and Minase immediately joined in.

 

“Ahh, so that's it! Why didn't you say so sooner?”

 

“Not that we can do anything about it. We're already close friends!”

 

This was terrible.

 

Tsujitani and the others were pouring oil on the fire, snorting with the stubborn pride of primary school children. Then they began boasting triumphantly.

 

“I knew Hioki back in middle school! Bet you didn't know he got so nervous at graduation that he stood up when they told the current pupils to stand. Hilarious!”

 

“That was you.”

 

I shook my head at Ino.

 

“And you don't know about Hioki spending a whole day at club training camp with his shirt inside out, do you? What a shame.”

 

“That was you too.”

 

I corrected Minase.

 

“And I bet you didn't know I used to get bored at break time and steal the dessert jelly from Hioki's lunch.”

 

“That was you as we— Wait. What? That's the first I've heard of it!”

 

I'd been exasperated by Ino and Minase attributing their embarrassing memories to me, but I couldn't overlook that last confession. I pulled Watarai's hand away, seized Tsujitani's shoulders and shook him back and forth.

 

“…Why are you casually confessing to that?”

 

“…There's something you should say first.”

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

“…No, that's not it. What flavour?”

 

“Huh? That's what you want to know?”

 

“Just tell me what flavour it was!”

 

“Um, mandarin orange… with pieces of fruit in it.”

 

With fruit pieces, of all things.

 

So it hadn't even been one of the small jellies. It must have been a large one. I glared at Tsujitani with all the resentment I could muster. He met my eyes and gave me a sheepish grin.

 

“Sorry, Hioki.”

 

“Maybe I should stop being friends with you.”

 

“…I see. Fair enough. You mean stop being friends and become best friends instead.”

 

“Why have you just promoted yourself?”

 

I clutched my head at Tsujitani's relentlessly positive thinking.

 

Then I heard laughter behind me.

 

“Ahahaha!”

 

Nakazato and Hotta peered round, tears in their eyes from laughing.

 

“Wait, this is too funny!”

 

“So this is what you lot are really like?”

 

One of them pulled out his phone as soon as he stepped into the corridor.

 

“Since we're friends now, right?”

 

At Nakazato's suggestion, my three clubmates looked at one another.

 

“““Oh, all right. We suppose we can allow it.”””

 

For some reason, they all nodded as though granting a favour. As my friends exchanged contact details, I looked up at Watarai, who was still standing there in stunned silence.

 

“Watarai, you should become friends with them too.”

 

“…But you and I like each other. That's above best friends.”

 

“Yeah. Sorry.”

 

I patted his back to soothe his sulky expression.

 

“They might post unexpected photos of Hioki, you know. You sure you don't want to be friends?”

 

Morizaki cut between us, dropped that remark and joined the lively group.

 

“Me too. And him.”

 

He glanced towards Watarai.

 

Perhaps Watarai felt awkward after what had just happened. He couldn't quite bring himself to step forward. Noticing his hesitation, my three clubmates grinned wickedly.

 

“We've got photos of Hioki going all the way back to middle school. We can show you if you want.”

 

“And pictures from club activities and his private life.”

 

“But only if you stop acting cold towards us.”

 

“““Well? What do you say?”””

 

Their eyes curved into crescent shapes.

 

They looked like devils.

 

“Let's be friends.”

 

Watarai agreed without hesitation and pulled out his phone. It bothered me a little that I was being traded like merchandise, but I felt relieved that they seemed likely to get along. As I watched my seven friends chatting happily, Ino beckoned from the group.

 

“Oi, Hioki, come here. Let's take a photo to celebrate becoming friends.”

 

“Okay.”

 

I took a step forward, but Watarai caught my arm.

 

“Hioki goes here.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Seeing how happy Watarai looked, I couldn't help smiling.

 

“What are you doing? It's not break time, you know.”

 

We'd gathered in a circle to check the photograph on someone's phone when our form teacher, who was making the rounds, caught us.

 

“Sorry! We were just passing on something about our club.”

 

Tsujitani gave an ingratiating smile while edging backwards, hiding his phone behind his back so it wouldn't be confiscated. Then he suddenly bolted like a startled rabbit.

 

“We're finished now, so we'll head back!”

 

“Sorry for bothering you!”

 

Ino and Minase bowed and hurried after Tsujitani to their classroom. The rest of us headed back to ours as though fleeing too.

 

“Oh, that's right.”

 

Our teacher's voice stopped all five of us in our tracks. We broke into a cold sweat as the teacher examined our outfits from head to toe, then beamed.

 

“There's a prize for the teacher whose class makes the most sales. I'm counting on you!”

 

With that, our teacher disappeared round the corner. We exchanged looks and shrugged helplessly. Whatever the prize was, our teacher clearly wanted it badly. There had been a fierce gleam in those eyes.

 

We watched the teacher leave, then went back inside. This time, Watarai looked at me expectantly.

 

“Hioki, you don't have club activities after school during this period, do you?”

 

There was happiness in his voice.

 

“No, I don't.”

 

“Then let's go home together.”

 

“Sure. Are we all stopping somewhere on the way?”

 

“Hmm? No. Just the two of us.”

 

“Two of us?”

 

I'd assumed all eight of us would go home together, so his unexpected suggestion made me tilt my head. Without caring who might be watching, Watarai stroked my cheek and smiled softly.

 

“Because I want to spend as much time with you as I can.”

 

Oh. So that was it. Today marked both the beginning of our eight-person friendship and the day Watarai and I acknowledged our mutual feelings. Apparently, Watarai wanted to prioritise the latter.

 

He looked so delighted at the simple prospect of walking home together that I couldn't help finding him adorable. Only a few days remained until the cultural festival. I hated the tense atmosphere, but now I had another reason to look forward to coming to school.

 

I had a feeling I was forgetting something. Oh, well. Never mind.

 

The whole school was brimming with energy. Calls to attract customers and excited cheers came from every direction, and occasionally there were screams from the classrooms running haunted houses. Inside an empty classroom being used as a changing room, I was looking through the festival programme while listening to the noise from the corridor when a shadow fell across the page.

 

“Something caught your eye?”

 

“No, I was just seeing if there was anything interesting.”

 

I looked up to find Watarai standing in front of me in his costume.

 

He was wearing accessories, and even his hair had been styled. The power of a handsome face was extraordinary. If someone had told me he was about to do a photo shoot, I wouldn't have questioned it for a moment. He looked that dazzling.

 

The same went for Nakazato, Hotta and Morizaki, who were getting ready behind him. Watarai smiled at me as I stared at him wordlessly, pulled over a nearby chair and sat beside me. I studied his handsome profile as he scanned the gym's stage programme.

 

“You look really good.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Like an idol.”

 

“Haha! What's that supposed to mean?”

 

When Watarai laughed, the ear cuff decorating his ear swayed with a faint sound. There seemed to be an intricate pattern engraved into it, and it glittered whenever it moved. I leaned closer to work out what the design was and caught a faint, sweet scent.

 

“Oh, did you change your hair oil?”

 

“Eh? Oh… Yeah, I did. I forgot to buy more of the one I usually use, so I'm wearing a different one today.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Don't you like this one as much?”

 

“No? I like it.”

 

Though perhaps that was because Watarai was the one wearing it. I smiled at the thought, and Watarai gave me a melting smile in return.

 

“I like you too.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Unable to bear his suggestive expression and words, I buried my face in the programme. But then Watarai brushed the hair away from my lowered face and said, “You're cute,” so he might have noticed how red my ears had turned. I grew even more embarrassed and was about to push his hand away when the corridor-side window flew open with a bang.

 

“Hioki! Your escorts are here!”

 

“It's time to play receptionist!”

 

“And that's enough seducing handsome guys for one—”

 

The window slid quietly shut.

 

Then it was flung open again.

 

“Whoa, nearly thought I'd wandered into another dimension.”

 

“What is this, some celebrity's dressing room?”

 

“Are you planning a photo shoot while you're at the festival?”

 

Tsujitani, Ino and Minase had apparently thought the same thing I had. As soon as they saw Watarai and the others in costume, they stared openly and gave them envious looks. They were probably jealous of how well the costumes suited them.

 

I glanced at my watch. It was almost time for my reception shift.

 

“Want to walk part of the way together?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Watarai answered immediately, getting up from his chair with a clatter.

 

“Nakazato, you guys come too.”

 

I couldn't help smiling at Watarai, who seemed to be wagging an invisible tail, and called over to the three getting ready behind him.

 

“For us, it isn't really a question of whether we want to go. It's ‘We're going,’ isn't it?”

 

“It's enough to make you cry, having no choice.”

 

“Well, it's better than being treated like we're invisible.”

 

Despite their complaints, Nakazato, Hotta and Morizaki stood up with their phones in hand. They were kind, whatever they said. I looked towards my clubmates next.

 

“Are you three heading on ahead?”

 

All three widened their eyes at me.

 

“Why would we? This is where you say, ‘Let's all go together!’”

 

“We're the ones who came to get you!”

 

“That's cruel. So Hioki really is a worshipper of handsome guys.”

 

They booed at me, completely missing the point.

 

“No, that's not it. I was wondering if you'd be all right.”

 

Tsujitani and the others froze. They stared at me as though I'd said something utterly incomprehensible.

 

“…Okay. Okay, my HP just hit zero.”

 

“…I've barely got a little left.”

 

“…Oh, mine's gone into the negatives.”

 

Their lifeless voices came from behind me. When I turned, all three were following us with expressions as though they'd suddenly aged decades, like Urashima Tarō. Hadn't we once had a conversation about their combined fighting power being thirty, and how adding me would bring it down to twenty?

 

It seemed to have become reality.

 

Handsome guys really are incredible. I was reminded of it all over again. When we first stepped out of the makeshift changing room and started down the corridor, everything was normal. But little by little, the people coming towards us began to part to either side.

 

It was like Moses parting the Red Sea. The girls in particular kept watching Watarai and the others even after we'd passed them. Every now and then, I heard an awed “…Whoa” from a boy, too.

 

They were attracting attention. More than usual. Especially since they weren't wearing their uniforms. Tsujitani and the others apparently couldn't cope with all that attention.

 

Well, they were still following us, even if they were practically walking corpses. That's why I'd asked them in the first place. It wasn't as though I was used to it myself. I felt somewhat uncomfortable, but I was grateful that the corridor had become so easy to walk through.

 

When we reached Class Five's classroom, it was Tsujitani and the others who drew enormous breaths. Their colour gradually returned, like travellers who'd finally reached an oasis.

 

“You all right?”

 

The three weakly shook their heads and staggered towards the stairs. Before following them, I spoke to Watarai and the others.

 

“Right, I'm off to reception.”

 

“Come straight back when you're finished.”

 

I nodded under the pressure of Watarai's tone, which left no room for argument, and left the classroom, which was already growing busy. The corridor was overflowing with long lines of visitors.

 

Wait, could all these people be queuing for our class?

 

I couldn't help laughing at the four boys, who'd managed to advertise the café simply by walking through the school. Handsome guys really are incredible. When I reached the entrance hall, I first spoke to the teacher in charge of reception and had my name ticked off on the attendance sheet. Apparently, they were keeping track of anyone who skipped their shift.

 

Next, I went over to the student currently working at my assigned station so we could change over. The colour of his school sandals showed he was in the final year.

 

“It's nearly my shift, so I'll take over.”

 

“Cheers. Thanks.”

 

Once he'd finished explaining the job, I looked down at the sheet on the desk. Graduates, parents and other visitors each had their own colour-coded category, corresponding to the wristbands laid out at the side. As I mentally organised the instructions I'd been given, Tsujitani, now back to his usual self, came to stand beside me.

 

“…Thought I was going to die.”

 

“Took you long enough. You went ahead of me.”

 

“We ran to the taps for some water.”

 

Minase, standing on my other side, pointed in the direction of the sinks.

 

“So what do we actually do at reception?”

 

At Ino's question, the last of them to return, I picked up the sheet from the desk. I was giving them a rough explanation when the supervising teacher called from behind us.

 

“Come on, come on. Less chatting and more working.”

 

““““Sorry!””””

 

We hadn't been skiving, but we answered anyway and turned our attention to the stream of visitors. People of every age were arriving, from babies to elderly people.

 

What time had Mum and my sister said they were coming?

 

I was trying to recall our conversation that morning when a bright girl's voice reached my ears.

 

“Asahi! I came!”

 

“Anna! Welcome.”

 

Ikegaya was standing in front of me. She'd chosen her high school partly because of its uniform, and she was wearing her favourite striking white uniform today rather than ordinary clothes. She really must love it, I thought with a smile, before noticing the girl beside her.

 

The quiet-looking girl, presumably Ikegaya's friend, bowed when she saw me. I bowed back and turned to Ikegaya.

 

“A friend?”

 

“Yeah! From high school!”

 

Ikegaya answered proudly.

 

I marked two people in the general-visitor category and handed them programmes and paper wristbands.

 

“How did you know our festival was today?” I asked casually.

 

“Oh, Watarai told me! And—”

 

Ikegaya smiled as she fastened her wristband.

 

“Eh?”

 

Why were Watarai and Ikegaya in contact?

 

Ikegaya had been the one who'd asked for his Instagram account, but…

 

It wasn't as though there was anything wrong with them becoming friends.

 

There wasn't.

 

Still feeling strangely unsettled, I stared at her. She noticed my gaze, jolted, and shook her glossy black hair.

 

“Ah! Wait, no! That's not what I meant! Forget I said that, please!”

 

“That just makes it even more suspicious.”

 

“Ugh… Tsujitani! Ino! Make Asahi lose his memory! Bye!”

 

““No idea what's going on, but okay!””

 

Ikegaya rattled off the words, grabbed her friend's hand and fled into the school. I watched them go with a frown, only for someone to whack me on the head.

 

“Ow! What was that for?”

 

“Eh? Ikegaya told us to.”

 

“She said to give you amnesia.”

 

“She was joking! Obviously!”

 

When I frowned even harder, Tsujitani and Ino laughed.

 

“Next shift! We'll take over.”

 

An hour passed in no time. I handed reception over to the classmates who'd come to relieve us and headed for the changing room before returning to class.

 

“Right! Stay alive out there!”

 

“We'll come by your place if we've got time!”

 

“Hioki, come to the haunted house!”

 

“No thanks.”

 

I rejected Minase's invitation, and we dispersed to our respective duties. The empty classroom being used as a changing room was deserted, with neither students waiting for their shifts nor anyone skiving off. I really don't want to walk over there alone dressed like this.

 

I looked down at the costume I'd finished changing into. Class Five wasn't exactly far away from here, but it wasn't close either. I'd have to go up a flight of stairs, then walk past Classrooms One through Four. I sighed, telling myself it couldn't be helped.

 

Yet, against my better judgement, the hand I'd stretched towards my phone stopped.

 

“No, no…”

 

My voice fell into the empty room.

 

I couldn't believe I'd just thought that Watarai might come to get me if I called him. For one thing, he ought to be dealing with customers at our café right now. He probably wouldn't even have time to look at his phone. And the reason I wanted him was, ‘I'm embarrassed to walk around alone in this outfit, so please come with me.’

 

I'd become ridiculously dependent on him. Even while thinking that, I kept staring at the black screen of my phone. Before I knew it, my fingers had entered the passcode and unlocked it. I'm finished at reception, so I'm heading back now.

 

I typed and deleted several versions before settling on that message. Before I'd left, Watarai had told me to come straight back, not to contact him. This was entirely me being needy.

 

With a slightly trembling hand, I pressed Send. The little sound confirming delivery echoed through the classroom. If he didn't notice it, that was fine. If he did, I'd be happy.

 

I was putting my discarded shirt into my sports bag when the lock screen lit up at the edge of my vision. A message had arrived.

 

Wait ten minutes.

 

I read the short sentence several times.

 

Did that mean he was coming to get me?

 

The reply was so unexpected that I stared at the screen, frozen. I'd thought he might say, ‘I'll be waiting,’ or ‘Hurry back.’ I hadn't dreamed he'd offer to come and get me, just as I'd secretly wished. Warmth spread through me, like being enveloped in sunshine.

 

‘Okay’ doesn't sound quite right… But replying with just a sticker would be rude…

 

I sat on a desk and agonised over it alone. If it had been a message from anyone other than Watarai, I would have replied briefly and left it at that. Apparently, when it came to someone I liked, even a single word was difficult.

 

In the end, I decided that ‘Thank you’ was safest. I was typing it when the classroom door slid open. I looked up to see Watarai standing there, his hair slightly dishevelled.

 

Had ten minutes passed already?

 

I glanced at the clock, but it had only been about two minutes since he'd sent his message.

 

“Huh… Didn't you say ten minutes?”

 

“Yeah. I did, but I wanted to get here sooner.”

 

“O-oh. I see.”

 

His face softened into a smile, and warmth swelled in my chest. Watarai filled every corner of my heart with affection. Looking up at him as he stood before me, I couldn't help smiling.

 

“I think I really do love you, Watarai.”

 

“Hmm? Eh? Oh, me too… Wait, hang on. I wasn't mentally prepared for that.”

 

Watarai's cheeks gradually turned red, and he took a step backwards. He was so adorable I couldn't stand it. I smiled without even meaning to.

 

Still feeling wonderfully warm inside, I rose from the desk. As I did, my hand brushed against my phone, switching the chat screen back to the home screen. My eyes happened to fall on the Instagram icon, reminding me of my conversation with Ikegaya.

 

“By the way, have you been messaging An— Ikegaya?”

 

“Eh?”

 

The colour drained from the face that had been red only moments earlier. His eyes darted about, apparently not expecting the question. Had I stepped on a landmine? Or perhaps he'd misunderstood and thought I was angry.

 

I didn't suspect for a moment that anything improper was going on between Watarai and Ikegaya. If he wanted to pursue something with her, I couldn't understand why he'd continued telling me he liked me after the school trip. And I certainly didn't think his confession had been a joke.

 

“I'm not angry. I was just wondering… If it's difficult to answer, you really don't have to.”

 

“No. That'd leave things unsettled for both of us. I'll tell you. Let me explain.”

 

Even then, Watarai seemed to be trying to work out where to begin, because he fell silent for a while. The ticking of the classroom clock and the conversations of visitors drifting in from the corridor filled the room. It was several minutes before he finally spoke.

 

“…I wanted to get you a birthday present.”

 

Eh? A birthday present?

 

The answer was so far from anything I'd imagined that I nearly let out a ridiculous noise. Ignoring my confusion, Watarai began explaining in short bursts.

 

“I didn't know what you liked. And I thought asking you directly would be strange when it was meant to be a present.”

 

“R-right…”

 

I didn't really know the going rate for birthday presents between teenage boys, but perhaps Watarai and his friends approached them differently. I'd only ever bought shop-bought sweets or reasonably priced things for people. Honestly, something like that would be perfectly fine with me. In fact, anything Watarai gave me would make me happy.

 

“So I was trying to think of someone who knew you well, and I remembered Ikegaya had followed me. I asked her for advice.”

 

“I see.”

 

So that was how he'd ended up inviting her to the cultural festival. Knowing Watarai, perhaps he'd wanted to thank her in person for helping him too. In other words, he'd consulted Ikegaya because there was little risk of her ruining the surprise, and he was trying to choose a present I'd like.

 

And I'd just made him tell me about the whole plan.

 

“…Sorry.”

 

“Eh? Why? It's not something you need to apologise for, Hioki.”

 

Watarai shook his head.

 

Of course, if anyone should have apologised, it was Ikegaya for letting it slip, but I'd also been wrong to keep pressing him about it. Feeling a confusing mixture of guilt and happiness, I looked up.

 

“You might've already bought it, but you really don't need to spend a lot. I'd be happy with anything from you.”

 

“Yeah. But I'm doing it because I want to.”

 

“Thank you. If it isn't too big, I can accept delivery whenever…”

 

What am I, a delivery company?

 

What was all that about accepting delivery? I was the one receiving a gift, yet I hadn't shown a shred of modesty. I was about to hurriedly correct myself when Watarai spoke awkwardly.

 

“Um… I was thinking if your birthday had already passed, I'd give it to you at Christmas instead. But would you rather I gave it to you at school?”

 

“…Sorry.”

 

I'd managed to trample all over every part of his plan. If possible, I wanted Tsujitani and the others to hit me over the head and give me amnesia.

 

Ah, but then I'd forget Watarai too…

 

No, never mind.

 

As I silently agonised over it, Watarai finally burst out laughing.

 

“Surprises are harder than you'd think, aren't they? Sorry for showing you such an uncool side of me.”

 

“I'm the one who should apologise. And… thank you.”

 

“No, it's fine… Oh, right.”

 

With a gentle smile, he seemed to remember something and pulled a small bottle from his bag. It had a logo shaped like a ring of flower petals.

 

“Let me style your hair.”

 

“Okay.”

 

I obediently offered him my head. Watarai was so skilful that he managed to make my hair look perfect using nothing but a comb and the hair oil he'd just taken out.

 

“Okay. You look cu— handsome now.”

 

“Thanks…”

 

I tilted my head at his strange correction.

 

“This is really late to be asking, but… do you dislike being called cute?”

 

His handsome brows drooped, his voice touched with guilt. I shook my head, and the same scent as his drifted around my face.

 

“If you're asking whether I particularly like being called cute, not really. But it makes me happy because it's you saying it.”

 

“I see. Thank you. Can we stop by a sink so I can wash my hands?”

 

“Yeah, of course.”

 

I followed his cheerful figure, but he headed down the corridor in the opposite direction from our classroom.

 

There were sinks near Class Five too. Did he have somewhere else to go?

 

“Are we going this way?”

 

At my question, Watarai smiled softly.

 

“Yeah. Let's stay together a little longer.”

 

Ah. So that's what it was. I liked that straightforward side of him too. The sweet time we'd spent together earlier seemed almost like an illusion, considering how busy things became afterwards.

 

The cultural festival was nothing like I'd imagined. I'd thought we'd do our jobs at a leisurely pace, wander around other classrooms and enjoy ourselves as though we were at a theme park. But our class had four star attractions bringing in customers. There was no chance things would go normally.

 

We went beyond doing a roaring trade and descended into complete chaos. From little girls to elegant older ladies, and sometimes even men, absolutely everyone was captivated by the four of them. People ordered huge quantities of crêpes and biscuits, asked for photographs or wanted handshakes. The queues never seemed to end.

 

And the most exhausted people were the four themselves. Nakazato, who usually never stopped smiling, occasionally looked irritated. Hotta, normally so good at handling people, had to soothe visitors making unreasonable demands. Morizaki was using up every ounce of consideration he didn't normally bother with, and sometimes looked as though his soul had left his body.

 

They really had it rough.

 

Watarai was the sole exception. He said he was fine as long as I was there and managed to deal with everyone, including the troublesome customers, without much fuss. Once the peak lunchtime rush had passed, we seized an opportunity to finish up and practically fled to the changing room.

 

Exhaustion showed on everyone's face. We were in no state to enjoy the festival.

 

“…I'm dead tired.”

 

Nakazato slumped against a chair with his shirt buttons undone.

 

“…I haven't even got the energy to change.”

 

Hotta collapsed face down on a desk, still in costume.

 

“I wanna go home.”

 

Morizaki looked as though he might crumble into sand and disappear.

 

Poor things.

 

I looked at the three of them with pity. Just as I reached for the buttons of my shirt to change, someone grabbed my wrist from the side.

 

“Wait. We haven't taken a photo together yet.”

 

Without giving me a chance to object, Watarai raised his phone and pulled me close. I flashed a peace sign at the camera, and a moment later he let go. Perhaps we'd become used to it, but lately he didn't even seem to announce when he was taking a photo.

 

“You know what? Everyone we took photos with today uses a different app, so I bet our faces look different in every single picture.”

 

Nakazato, finally moving again, gave a dry laugh as he removed his shirt. Hotta, Watarai and Morizaki nodded in agreement.

 

“Ah, yeah. I know what you mean. I wish they'd stop doing that.”

 

“Especially the ones with ridiculous filters. They're the worst.”

 

“And ordinary camera shots can be rough too.”

 

I could understand worrying about looking good in photo-booth pictures, but what difference did an ordinary camera make? All the pictures taken of them on the school trip had looked handsome, so surely they'd be fine. Now dressed in the odd combination of our class T-shirt and my uniform trousers, I leaned against the window frame to wait for the others to finish changing.

 

Suddenly, just as had happened that morning, the corridor-side window was flung open.

 

“Hioki! I'm begging you! A favour of a lifetime!”

 

Tsujitani, whose absurdly loud voice I'd know anywhere, pressed his palms together in front of his face. I had nothing but a bad feeling about this, so I shook my head immediately.

 

“Please! Think of it as saving your best friend!”

 

Tsujitani looked at me as though he were about to cry.

 

“I said no.”

 

“Come on. At least hear him out.”

 

Morizaki interrupted our exchange, looking positively delighted. Only at times like this did he come alive, like a fish in water. Encouraged by Morizaki, Tsujitani's face lit up.

 

“To get straight to the point, I want you to dress as a girl.”

 

“No. Absolutely not.”

 

“Please! It's my once-in-a— my lifelong favour!”

 

Don't start borrowing favours from your next life too. I shook my head again without even needing to think, but Tsujitani kept pleading.

 

“Please, Hioki!”

 

“Hang on, why does it have to be Hioki?”

 

Hotta, who'd been watching, tilted his head. Good question. I couldn't see why it had to be me either. I looked at Tsujitani, whose invisible ears drooped like an abandoned puppy's.

 

“There's a cross-dressing contest later, right? Well, the guy from our class who was supposed to enter ate a frankfurter that had fallen on the floor, and now he's got a stomach ache…”

 

Wait a second. Stop. That opening was so outrageous I couldn't process the rest.

 

Could we at least agree that the guy was an idiot?

 

I glanced at Watarai and the others. All four were shaking with suppressed laughter. Tsujitani continued with a completely serious expression.

 

“So he's in the nurse's office now, and we don't have anyone who can enter. That's why I need you—”

 

“Why me? Sort it out within your own class.”

 

I genuinely didn't understand. Why did I have to replace someone whose stomach had lost a battle against the three-second rule? Besides, Tsujitani was in Class One. I was in Class Five.

 

It made no sense whatsoever.

 

“That still isn't a very convincing reason,” Watarai said, coming to my rescue.

 

As expected. I love you, Watarai. My saviour. At my rescuer's objection, Tsujitani's eyebrows drooped even further.

 

“The thing is, there's nobody else in our class the same height as Frankfurter. And we stupidly had the costume made to measure.”

 

Setting aside the fact that he'd casually started calling his friend ‘Frankfurter’… Was that seriously possible? There were so many things to question, but something in his explanation made me realise the obvious.

 

“Then Nakazato can do it instead of me.”

 

Nakazato and I were practically the same height. I was only a few millimetres taller, though we'd both grown since then, so that probably wasn't accurate any more. Naturally, Nakazato was the one to object.

 

“No! Absolutely not!”

 

“Why? You're better-looking and cuter than me. You could win.”

 

“Hioki's cuter! You're the sort who'd look amazing dressed as a girl!”

 

“Nakazato's cuter down to his genes.”

 

“Hioki's cuter down to his cells.”

 

“Why don't you settle it with rock-paper-scissors?”

 

““Don't you start!””

 

Nakazato and I snapped at Tsujitani in unison. For some reason, the very person asking us for the favour had decided to act as mediator.

 

“Ah. Hioki, you owe me one, don't you?”

 

Apparently remembering something, Nakazato pointed straight at me.

 

“Huh? I don't owe you any—”

 

Oh. I did. During the school trip, when our form teacher had been interrogating me about Ikegaya, Nakazato had backed up my story. I should have pretended not to remember, but now that I had, a groan lodged in my throat.

 

How unfair. Why didn't I have any favours to call in?

 

Tsujitani took my silence as agreement and smiled in relief.

 

“Thank you, Hioki! I'll never forget this!”

 

“Oi, I haven't said yes—”

 

“All participants get an all-you-can-eat barbecue ticket for a popular restaurant.”

 

I was about to tell him there was no way that would convince me, but the offer was so tempting that not even the first word came out.

 

Food had done nothing wrong.

 

But even an all-you-can-eat barbecue couldn't possibly overcome my resistance to dressing as a girl…

 

“Please, Hioki! A favour for three lifetimes! You only have to stand on stage!”

 

“Also, aren't we running out of time?”

 

While I agonised over Tsujitani's pleas, Morizaki glanced at the clock. I didn't know the contest's starting time, but considering when the festival ended, it was probably around three o'clock. That meant there was less than an hour left.

 

I looked at Tsujitani, who gazed up at me with teary eyes.

 

I'm the one who wants to cry.

 

“…Fine.”

 

“Thank you, Hioki! I love you! I adore you! Hey, Hioki said yes!”

 

At Tsujitani's shout, several girls emerged from further down the corridor and entered the classroom.

 

Eh? Had they been there the whole time?

 

“Thank you, Hioki! Put this on right away!”

 

“We'll do your make-up too!”

 

“You can keep your trousers on!”

 

The girls rattled off instructions and spread make-up supplies across a desk. Completely bewildered, I stood there holding the costume they'd shoved into my hands. I unfolded it cautiously. It was something resembling the maid uniforms the girls in our class had been wearing.

 

At least it seemed I'd avoided having to expose my legs or stomach. That was a relief.

 

“Sit here! Don't worry, I've been studying make-up like mad for this very day!”

 

At this point, I couldn't bring myself to care any more. I nodded vaguely, sat down and closed my eyes. God, please. Please just don't let this turn into a disaster.

 

“Done! That's my best work ever!”

 

“You look cute!”

 

“Eh? He's way cuter than Frankfurter!”

 

The girls looked down at me in the chair and applauded. I had no idea whether they meant it or were just being polite. Our friends, who'd been chatting behind me, were apparently curious too. Desks and chairs rattled as they came round to stand directly in front of me.

 

“Eh, you're cute.”

 

“You could pass for a girl.”

 

“You look a little like your sister.”

 

“Cute, apart from your build.”

 

Nakazato, Hotta and Morizaki, along with Tsujitani, all offered their assessments. Their expressions were ambiguous enough that I couldn't tell whether they were serious or joking.

 

“Right! Hioki, we're counting on you for Class One!”

 

“We're expecting great things!”

 

The girls hurried out.

 

Silence settled over the classroom, leaving five boys and me in women's clothing. I immediately slumped over the desk in exhaustion, only for someone to yank the back of my collar. My throat was suddenly constricted, and I let out a noise like a squashed frog.

 

I rubbed my neck and turned to find Morizaki peering at me.

 

“Don't put your face on the desk. You'll ruin your make-up.”

 

“Don't suddenly yank my collar.”

 

“Anyway, let me take a picture.”

 

Would you listen to me?

 

I gave him a peace sign with an utterly blank expression. Morizaki raised his phone, and Nakazato, Hotta and Tsujitani took that as their cue to point their cameras at me too. Tsujitani told me to close my legs. I ignored him.

 

Only Watarai didn't have his phone out. He simply stood there staring at me.

 

Maybe he really had been put off.

 

It was too late to worry about it now. I looked away from him just as Tsujitani grabbed my arm.

 

“We need to go! Come on, to the gym!”

 

“Ugh… So I really do have to go.”

 

“Of course! You wouldn't be a man if you backed out now!”

 

“Seriously, don't say another word.”

 

After all his tearful pleading and favours of a lifetime, he had some nerve. Tsujitani pulled me along the nearly deserted corridor. The occasional students and visitors we passed looked at me, and I was so embarrassed I wanted to die.

 

“Next up, our second-year contestants!”

 

The student MC's announcement drew a burst of applause from the gym. Apparently, people preferred unusual events to dancing or plays. The gym was packed with students and visitors alike.

 

I'd come this far. All I could do was commit to it. Without making the slightest effort to walk like a girl, I took long strides to the place I'd been told to stand. My eyes were probably completely dead.

 

Once all the second-year contestants were on stage, the MC handed me a microphone.

 

Tsujitani had said I only needed to stand there. Did I have to say something too?

 

“Class One's representative is Sā-chan!”

 

Sā-chan was a name Tsujitani had made up. Apparently, he'd taken the ‘sa’ from Asahi.

 

It made no sense.

 

The name badge at my waist also said ‘Sā-chan’ in adorable lettering. From all around me came unwanted cheers from boys I didn't know.

 

“Sā-chan, you're cute!”

 

“Sā-chan, look over here!”

 

The one thing I learnt during the introductions was that the audience was incredibly noisy. The boys, especially the third-years, called out the contestants' names and made a racket. The girls waved fans that looked as though they'd been specially made for the occasion.

 

“Now it's time for your ten-second appeal!”

 

The MC took a sheet of paper from her pocket. I tilted my head, wondering what it was, and she read aloud from it.

 

“Apparently, ‘Class One's Sā-chan will do whatever pose the audience requests’!”

 

She held the paper up to the camera. I turned around to find Tsujitani's enormous handwriting projected onto the screen. Well, it was better than having nothing prepared, but who was supposed to give the instructions? No sooner had I wondered that than requests poured in from the audience.

 

“Do a finger heart!”

 

“Do moe-moe kyun!”

 

“Blow us a kiss!”

 

“Wink!”

 

“Marry me!”

 

There were too many voices to make out. I looked around helplessly and noticed a girl in the front row making a heart shape with her hands. I copied her, then tried a few other poses: a typical heart shape, my hands against my cheeks, and so on, all while waiting for the ten seconds to pass.

 

Time always dragged in situations like this. Ten seconds felt like ten minutes.

 

“Thank you very much! We've seen plenty of Sā-chan's charms! Next, Class Two—”

 

Somehow, I'd survived the ordeal.

 

As the Class Two contestant began his appeal, I escaped behind the curtain.

 

Come to think of it, who was representing Class Five?

 

I peered out from the wings to find a classmate from the judo club on stage. Our four star attractions had probably turned down the invitation, so they'd gone for a joke entry instead. He seemed to be enjoying himself, too. The ten-second appeal was evidently difficult; most contestants ended up doing some sort of party trick.

 

Our judo club classmate broke roof tiles, which had absolutely nothing to do with dressing as a girl. Oddly enough, I rather respected that. Given his appearance, I doubted he'd win, though.

 

“And that's all our second-year contestants! Please wait while the votes are counted!”

 

Applause filled the gym.

 

I sat on one of the folding chairs in the waiting area beside the stage. The judo club boy sat down next to me.

 

“Why are you representing Class One, Hioki?”

 

“Well, there was a bit of an incident with a frankfurter…”

 

“Huh? A frankfurter?”

 

He looked completely baffled.

 

“Sorry, wrong explanation. Apparently the original contestant got sick, and I happened to be exactly the right height for his costume.”

 

“Oh. So if you win, does that count as a victory for our class?”

 

“Who knows? I won't win anyway, so Class One probably won't get anything either.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

Apparently losing interest in the conversation, he began inspecting my outfit. After looking me over thoroughly, he suddenly reached out and flipped up my skirt.

 

“Oh, you've got trousers on.”

 

“Of course I do. What about you…? Never mind. Obviously not.”

 

“Couldn't with a skirt this short.”

 

He casually lifted his own skirt.

 

He was wearing what you'd call a miniskirt police uniform, and I caught an unwanted glimpse of his boxer shorts. I immediately looked away.

 

“All contestants, please return to the stage!”

 

At the MC's call, seven boys from each year group, twenty-one in total, stepped onto the stage. We lined up with the first-years at the front, followed by second-years and third-years. The third-years apparently intended to win in earnest, judging by how many short seniors were among them.

 

“Everyone, thank you for voting! We're running behind schedule, so I'm afraid we won't have time for individual comments. Let's announce the results!”

 

The MC lowered her microphone. The gym suddenly darkened, and spotlights swept back and forth as a tense drumroll echoed around the hall.

 

“First, our first-year winner is entry number six, Luna-chan!”

 

Thunderous applause broke out as the spotlights converged on one place. On the screen was a pretty-faced boy in a sailor-style school uniform.

 

“Next, the second-year winner is… entry number three, Saeki-chan!”

 

Bathed in the spotlight, Saeki-chan held the hem of his nurse's outfit, blushing and smiling shyly. The audience erupted in cheers and applause.

 

“And finally, our third-year winner is entry number seven, Aloe-chan!”

 

Another spotlight illuminated a striking senior with handsome features dressed in a kimono. Most contestants had gone for a cute look, so perhaps his different style had made him stand out in a good way. The three winners looked strangely proud of themselves, considering they were all dressed as girls.

 

The gym filled once more with applause and cheers. At the same moment, the bell rang to signal the end of the cultural festival. After our final homeroom, my classmates gradually scattered out of the classroom.

 

Our school didn't hold an eve-of-festival celebration or an after-party festival, which felt a little anticlimactic, but that was it. The cultural festival was over. As I gathered my belongings, a familiar pair of school sandals appeared at the edge of my vision.

 

“Are you going home now, Hioki?”

 

I looked up, and Watarai smiled at me.

 

“Hey, have you got plans after this?”

 

“Plans? No.”

 

“What about Hotta and the others?”

 

I called to the three standing behind Watarai. They all shook their heads. Apparently, everyone was just planning to head home. Once I'd checked, I held up a ticket.

 

“Want to go? All-you-can-eat barbecue.”

 

“Eh? Yes!”

 

“Seriously? Can we?”

 

“Wait, I'm going to tell my family I'm eating out.”

 

Hotta, Nakazato and Morizaki, who'd barely had time for lunch, lit up immediately. They excitedly made calls and sent messages home. Watarai was looking at his phone too. While I finished getting ready, hurried footsteps echoed along the corridor.

 

They stopped outside Class Five, and Tsujitani, Ino and Minase poked their heads through the doorway.

 

“Hey! Let's go home together!”

 

“Let's celebrate!”

 

“Come to the family restaurant!”

 

The ticket in my hand said that up to ten high-school students could use it.

 

“Want to come too? All-you-can-eat barbecue.”

 

I waved the ticket teasingly in front of my three ravenous friends.

 

“““We're in.”””

 

They answered at once, giving me enthusiastic thumbs-up signs. I got to my feet as they celebrated, then suddenly remembered something.

 

“Ah. Sorry, I forgot something. Go on ahead.”

 

“I'll come too.”

 

I headed towards the door opposite Tsujitani and the others, and Watarai fell into step beside me. That was convenient. There was something I'd wanted to talk to him about.

 

“We'll wait at the school gate!” Hotta called.

 

I nodded and left the classroom with Watarai. As we walked towards the empty classroom that had served as our changing room, I glanced up at his handsome profile.

 

“Sorry for making you see something so weird today.”

 

It was my most sincere apology for the cross-dressing incident. But Watarai's reaction was nothing like I'd expected.

 

“Eh? Why? You looked cute.”

 

“Seriously? You weren't put off? Your reaction was kind of strange.”

 

“Hmm… That's because…”

 

Watarai hesitated.

 

“…How do I put it? I was confirming something for myself, I suppose.”

 

“Confirming what?”

 

“I was thinking that if you'd been a girl, we probably wouldn't have spent the whole school trip together. Maybe things never would've turned romantic.”

 

He had a point. If I'd been a girl, we might never have spoken at all, let alone formed the relationship we had now. When I opened the door to the empty classroom we'd used so much that day, Watarai stopped at the entrance.

 

“I really do love you, Hioki, regardless of whether you're a boy or a girl.”

 

“Yeah. Thank you.”

 

I smiled at his straightforward declaration, and Watarai smiled back, looking relieved. The reason I'd returned was to retrieve the wristwatch I'd forgotten. I reached into the desk we'd used and felt around until I found it.

 

Just as I'd accomplished that, my phone rang. Tsujitani's name and icon appeared on the screen. I tapped to answer and heard his lively voice.

 

“Hioki! Frankfurter says he wants to apologise, so hurry back!”

 

“Get here in seconds! I'm starving!”

 

“Let's go before it gets crowded!”

 

Ino and Minase's voices were mixed in with Tsujitani's.

 

“Okay.”

 

I ended the call with that one word and turned to Watarai.

 

“They're telling us to hurry up. Those guys never stop rushing around.”

 

“Can't say I'm exactly at ease about it myself.”

 

Watarai stepped into the corridor with a serious expression. The setting sun illuminated his profile, revealing a trace of jealousy.

 

I couldn't help smiling at him.

 

Whether we were dating or not, I felt that Watarai and I would always be like this. Whatever our relationship became from now on, I hoped we'd always stay this way. As though reflecting that wish, our two shadows stretched far into the distance along the corridor filled with evening sunlight.