Chapter Six: Spinning Wheels and Detours
And so, the morning of the election day arrived.
Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t a vibrant blue sky but an overcast one, threatening to break into rain at any moment.
Having come to school earlier than usual, I was in the empty classroom that had become our strategy room, spending the final preparation time with Nagi.
She was taking deep breaths, repeatedly rereading the crumpled schedule for the day.
“Um… first, Mutsu-senpai gives her final speech, then I give mine, then Mutsu-senpai speaks again, and then the voting…”
“Senpai’s speaking twice? That’s a rerun way too soon. Morning drama vibes,” I teased, noting Nagi’s predictable nervousness.
As expected, she was panicking. Despite all our efforts to get her comfortable in front of people, we hadn’t fully cured her stage fright.
Still, no matter how nervous she was, she should at least be able to read the prepared script.
“I’m fine… I’ll be fine… I’m the girl who conquered karaoke… I can do this…” Nagi muttered, head down, oblivious to my voice.
Hmm, maybe I should help her relax. In times like these, Miyahara’s friendly, upbeat energy is perfect.
I reached for my phone to call her when the classroom door creaked open.
Nagi and I snapped our heads toward the entrance, where Miyahara stood.
“Oh, Miyahara, perfect timing. Nagi’s freaking out—” I started, but stopped when I noticed her tense expression.
“Sorry to jump right in, but… you both need to stay calm and listen,” Miyahara said in a strained tone, skipping any greeting.
Nagi and I exchanged a glance, silently urging her to continue.
What she said next was—
“Every old-school-building club except the sewing club has defected to Mutsu-senpai’s faction.”
—The worst possible news for us.
Soon after parting with Miyahara, we arrived at the old school building.
As we walked its familiar halls, the building felt strangely hollow, almost eerie, like we’d stepped into the belly of a giant beast.
And no wonder. This place, which we’d worked so hard to secure as our voter base, was now nothing but hostile territory.
Nagi, feeling uneasy, clung close to me.
“Excuse us,” I said, knocking lightly on the sewing club’s door before opening it without waiting for a response.
The moment we entered the only space in the old building that still felt like home, I sensed Nagi exhale in relief behind me.
But I, harboring a certain concern, couldn’t let my guard down.
“You’re here. Sorry for calling you out when you’re busy,” the sewing club president greeted us, her expression stern.
She was alone in the empty clubroom.
“What’s going on, President? All the other clubs turned on us?” I cut straight to the point, unable to hide my urgency.
The president nodded slightly, her face mirroring my anxiety. “Exactly what it sounds like. Your plan for an old-school-building club alliance was sniffed out by Mutsu-kaichou’s little sister. She turned it against you and took over.”
“How? As I said before, joining us was the most beneficial move for the clubs here. There’s no reason for them to betray us.”
Right. If they didn’t side with us, the sewing club wouldn’t reach a level where it could negotiate with others. Even if Mutsu-senpai tried the same thing, the economic scale in the old building would be smaller, offering less benefit.
Unless… the sewing club betrayed us.
Thanks to the tutors Nagi sent, the sewing club leveled up faster than expected, eliminating their need to support us and prompting their defection.
“Let me be clear: we didn’t betray you,” the president said, as if reading my mind from the moment we entered, asserting her innocence.
She’d likely called us here to make that case in person.
“To put it bluntly, the art club betrayed you. Or rather… I just found this out myself, but it seems the art club was founded by Mutsu-President’s sister.”
Nagi visibly flinched at the revelation. “W-Wait, isn’t Mutsu-senpai in the archery club…?”
“Yeah, that’s why it was a blind spot. The archery club’s a big one, and it’s distant from the neglected old-building clubs. But in truth, the art club was her spy. Your movements were exposed from the start.”
At the word “spy,” Nagi’s eyes widened. “Hold on! The art club existed before we teamed up with the sewing club! Did she really set up a club just for election strategy?!”
“No, it’s not that,” I said, cutting off Nagi’s question.
The pieces of information I’d gathered clicked together like a puzzle, revealing an obvious answer.
“…It was for bullying prevention, right?”
“Exactly,” the president nodded gravely.
Nagi frowned, confused. “What does that mean?”
I explained slowly. “Last year, there was severe bullying at this school. The victim ended up transferring. Mutsu-senpai takes that very seriously. Someone as capable as her would’ve set up measures to prevent it from happening again. Especially in the old building, where teachers are scarce and oversight is limited. Starting multiple clubs here as a monitoring system makes sense.”
The decision to open the old building for weaker clubs came from last year’s student council. It’s only natural they’d include safeguards, like a club acting as the council’s eyes.
“…She got us good. Mutsu-senpai’s impressive,” I said, unable to hold back genuine admiration.
She’d known our voter base was in the old building from the start.
Her joining the study sessions wasn’t to steal first-year votes but to make us think we had her fooled, all while secretly orchestrating the old-building clubs’ defection.
Being outplayed so thoroughly, I felt more awe than frustration.
“The art club declared they wouldn’t join Nanasya-san’s plan. Even if the sewing club reached a level to join the alliance, if the art club doesn’t, it’s a wash, right? If the benefits are equal, it’s natural they’d switch to Mutsu-kaichou’s sister’s faction, which was already stronger,” the president said with a weary sigh.
The sewing club was the first to join us. If Mutsu-senpai wins, they risk being sidelined.
“Sorry. We’re based in the old building; we should’ve noticed first. I didn’t realize until a friend from another club urged me to defect this morning,” she said, looking guilty.
I shook my head. “It’s understandable. With the contest coming up, you didn’t have time to notice.”
Mutsu-senpai likely saw that opening and made her bold move in our territory.
“I’ve asked other club members to persuade their friends to reconsider, but…” The president’s tone implied it was a long shot.
“Got it. Thanks for the info. Don’t worry, we didn’t mean to drag you onto a sinking ship. Leave it to us.”
At my assurance, the president’s expression softened slightly, and she nodded. “…Alright. I’ll do what I can too. The rest is up to you, Kurusu-kun.”
“We’ll start working on countermeasures. Excuse us,” I said with a bow.
“E-Excuse us,” Nagi echoed, hurrying after me as I left.
She looked at me, clearly wanting to ask what’s next, but stayed silent. Understandable—outside the sewing club, we were back in enemy territory. Who knew who might be listening?
—Still, running into her here was unexpected.
“Good morning, you two. It’s finally voting day,” Mutsu-senpai greeted us with her usual bright smile.
“…Morning. Awful timing. Planned?” I said, briefly considering a poker face but giving up to throw a jab instead.
“Haha, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said with a sheepish smile.
Her reaction cooled my head. She hadn’t done anything wrong. We both played the game, and she was just one step ahead.
“My bad. So, what’s up? Time’s precious for both of us,” I said, though really, only we were pressed for time. Her victory was practically assured.
“Yeah. I wanted to talk to Nanasya-chan about the election,” she said, making Nagi jump.
“W-What is it?” Nagi asked, even shyer than usual, likely intimidated by the rival who’d outmaneuvered us.
“I’ll be blunt. I want you to withdraw your candidacy.”
“What?!” Nagi gasped.
“That’s not something we can just let slide,” I said, stepping in for her.
“Of course, I’m not asking for nothing. I’m sure you have goals and policies you want to achieve as student council president. I promise to support them as much as I can,” Mutsu-senpai said.
“That’s odd. You’re winning as is. Why make that offer?” I asked.
She shrugged, looking a bit troubled. “Winning’s not enough. It’s just the start. By school rules, the vice president is chosen by teachers, but usually, it’s a strong candidate from that year. If things continue, next term’s council will center on me and Nanasya-chan. But winning this way will leave bad blood, right?”
She seemed aware her tactics were seen as dirty. To me, it was a fair strategic win, but it’d definitely upset some, especially Nagi’s supporters.
“…I see. So you’re trying to reconcile with Nagi’s faction,” I said.
By publicly making peace with Nagi, she could appease her supporters.
“Exactly. To prove it, if you withdraw now, I’ll nominate Kurusu-kun as my recommender. The elected president’s recommender gets a right to join the council too.”
With more of Nagi’s people in the council, her influence would grow, making her policies easier to pass. It was more than generous for a supposed loser—an ideal reconciliation move.
“…That’s quite a deal. What about your current recommender?” I asked. She must have one, and this plan would sideline them.
“Yeah, well, luckily, they’re not too interested in the council. And even if it causes some resentment, this is necessary. We’re backed into a corner too. You were a tough opponent, Kurusu-kun.”
“Honored to hear that from you, though I got outplayed in the end,” I said, my tone bitter but genuine.
“I only caught your plan by luck. When I figured it out, I thought I was done for. It forced me to focus on countering you, leaving me no time to work on the first-years,” she said, then looked straight at Nagi.
“So, how about we call it even? It’d benefit us both.”
It was a reasonable offer from her perspective.
But we had a reason to refuse.
“Sorry, my answer’s the same as before,” I said firmly.
“…What about you, Nanasya-chan?” she asked.
Nagi hesitated, silent. For her, as long as the alumni connection was secured, she didn’t need to be president.
“…I’m sorry, I’ll pass,” she said.
Asking Mutsu-senpai to act as that connection would mean revealing her true identity, and they hadn’t built enough trust for that.
“Fair enough. You’ve come this far. Sorry for taking your time,” Mutsu-senpai said, as if expecting the answer, sighing and giving up easily.
—Her behavior struck me as oddly off.
“If you change your mind, let me know. You’re always welcome,” she said, turning and disappearing into the school building before I could pin down the feeling.
“Kurusu-kun, what do we do?” Nagi asked as we walked through a grove, leaving the old building behind.
The weather had worsened, and raindrops were starting to fall.
I let out a deep sigh, looking up at the sky. “…I don’t know.”
—For the first time.
For the first time, I was at a complete loss as a strategist.
Honestly, I think Mutsu-senpai is incredible.
She outmaneuvered me in strategy—and more than that, her qualities as a president defeated me head-on.
Her belief in improving school life as a council member, her tireless efforts, and the intelligence network she built caught me.
She called it luck, but I disagree.
—She was prepared to fight, to protect the students this time.
Her resolve and readiness to face any opponent outshone me.
I genuinely admire her. She’s worthy of respect.
So, for a moment, I faltered, wondering if I could ever match her.
“Kurusu-kun…” Nagi’s voice pulled me back.
I couldn’t let her see me like this. “…It’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”
I forced a smile to reassure her, but she pursed her lips, sensing the strain.
The air grew heavy.
I had to at least set a direction. “Luckily, as Senpai said, we’ve got an edge with the first-years. Instead of trying to win back the old building, we should focus on the undecided first-year votes…”
As I spoke, that uneasy feeling grew stronger.
What was this discomfort? Like I was missing something, making a mistake.
But combining the hints from Mutsu-senpai’s words, this seemed the best course.
“…………”
—Wait.
Why did Mutsu-senpai give me hints in the first place?
The moment that thought hit, the unease started to take shape.
With her victory all but certain, would someone meticulous enough to plant a spy club for bullying prevention be so careless?
No way. Unless—
“Hey, Kurusu-kun. You don’t have to push yourself anymore,” Nagi said, her face expressionless, interrupting my thoughts.
“Wait. I’m about to come up with a good plan,” I said, flustered by my lapse into thought.
She shook her head quietly. “No. Honestly, I’ve been thinking lately that going back to being Mea might be okay.”
“…What?” Her words were so unexpected, I was speechless.
Unfazed, she gave a strangely playful smile. “I mean, this election’s helped me get over my shyness a bit, right? And karaoke showed my singing’s still sharp. I could probably compromise and deal with it until my contract ends.”
Her words ignited a boiling rage inside me. “Are you serious?!”
I couldn’t help shouting.
It was the anger of an ally.
Mea always shone.
Not because of acting, but because she genuinely enjoyed being herself.
Compromise? Deal with it?
That’s not Mea…!
“Stop it! Don’t try going back with some half-baked facade! That’s not who Mea was!” I yelled, unable to contain my emotions.
But Nagi didn’t flinch. Dropping her fake smile, tears welled in her eyes as she glared back.
“Then what am I supposed to do?! No one wants me as Nagi! Even you want me to be Mea again, don’t you?!”
Her words hit with a force that dwarfed my outburst, unleashing her pent-up emotions.
“What…” Her raw emotion scattered my anger, leaving me stunned.
Realizing her outburst, she wiped her eyes and looked down. “…The day of the first study session, I overheard you talking with Senpai while I was returning the key.”
The memory hit me.
“You said before, didn’t you? That besides making Nanasya-chan win, you have a purpose of your own.”
“…I did say something like that.”
My blood ran cold. “You heard that…”
Nagi gave a bitter smile. “You don’t care if I win or lose, right? You have another purpose… Isn’t that to turn me back into Mea?”
“Nagi… you—”
—She’d been carrying that fear all this time?
In the intensifying rain, I groaned, and Nagi looked away awkwardly. “…Anyway, that’s how it is. Thanks for everything.”
She ran off, and I stood rooted, watching her go.
—Chase her. Clear up the misunderstanding.
I never wanted to force her back into Mea.
But my rationality held back the impulse surging within me.
This was the critical moment before the election, our last chance for a comeback.
My job wasn’t to make excuses but to strategize for victory.
“Sorry, Nagi. No matter what you say, I’m going to make you win,” I said, moving forward in the pouring rain.
After running from Kurusu-kun, I arrived alone at the auditorium for the final speech.
The vast space held only a few students preparing the venue.
“I messed up…” I muttered, sitting on a folding chair in the wings, hiding my face with a towel under the pretense of drying my wet hair.
Maybe they thought I, a candidate, was here early to calm my nerves, as no one approached me.
As I tried to cool my emotions alone, the image of Kurusu-kun’s shaken face flashed behind my closed eyes, stabbing my chest with pain.
It was just me lashing out.
He helped with the election because I asked him to.
Even if he had another goal, that doesn’t change the fact that he stepped up for me.
He was just being a friend.
“But…” That friend was there for Mea, not Nagi.
And to him, Mea is special—so even if he schemed to force me back into a hollow version of her, he wouldn’t be satisfied with a fake.
I realized that when he got mad at me earlier.
I let out a self-deprecating laugh at my childishness.
No matter how much time passes, Mea will always be special to him, and Nagi can never surpass her.
That hurt, it stung, it frustrated me.
I took that jealous anger and threw it at him.
“I’m the worst…” I muttered.
I deserved to be abandoned. No—I have been abandoned.
He has no reason to stick with Nagi anymore.
I pushed away someone who helped me out of old friendship.
Now, I have to fight this final battle alone.
Honestly, I’m trembling.
I want to say, “Help me.”
But I no longer have the right to say that.
Biting my lip, I quietly prepared to fight alone.
It’s fine. My shyness has improved. I’ve practiced.
I can do this. I can fight.
As I psyched myself up, the auditorium began to fill with the presence of people.
The entire student body had arrived.
It was almost time. I slowly removed the towel, glancing around.
The seats were packed with students.
Across the stage, in the opposite wing, stood Mutsu-senpai and someone I assumed was her recommender.
As expected, Kurusu-kun wasn’t by my side.
“…Of course,” I murmured.
Hoping he’d change his mind just by waiting was a foolish fantasy.
Shaking my head to dispel the lingering delusion, I steeled myself.
“We will now begin the final speeches from both candidates,” a voice announced over the speakers.
The crowd’s murmurs faded, replaced by a piercing silence.
“First, we’ll hear from second-year Mutsu Issa-san.”
Unfazed by the tension, Mutsu-senpai walked confidently to the center of the stage, standing before the microphone.
With a smile, she scanned the audience.
“I’m Mutsu Issa, running for student council president. Second- and third-years probably know me, but I was part of the previous council,” she began.
Her voice was clear, commanding, and captivating—a practiced speech technique honed through effort.
“I know it’s bold to say, but I think the previous council was exceptional. It faced the frustrations and constraints I felt as a first-year head-on, reforming the system. …Though, well, it earned us a reputation as one of the most combative councils in history.”
The upperclassmen who knew that era nodded or chuckled softly.
Seeing this, the first-years, swept up in the atmosphere, began to show favorable expressions.
“But the previous student council wasn’t perfect. There were things we couldn’t do, goals we couldn’t reach. As a member, I have a duty to carry on the will of the former president and complete those reforms. That’s why I declare myself the most suitable candidate for student council president.”
The rightful successor to the previous council.
By reaffirming her position, she evoked memories of revolution and success from the upperclassmen, creating an approachable atmosphere for the underclassmen.
“With that, I conclude my election speech.”
As proof, as she bowed and left the stage, the entire student body erupted in thunderous applause.
“Next, first-year Nanasya Nagi-san, please.”
At the sound of my name, I immediately stepped forward.
Standing before the microphone, I took a deep breath and began.
“I’m Nanasya, running for student council president. Some of you may be surprised that a first-year like me is running. However, I have a vision to make everyone’s school life better.”
The speech was prepared by Kurusu-kun in advance.
I read it in a flat tone.
“…The previous council achieved great things, but the backlash from such rapid reforms can’t be ignored. For example—”
Once on stage, I wasn’t as nervous as I’d expected.
Probably because I’d already half-given up on the future.
In a situation where even Kurusu-kun had thrown in the towel, what could I possibly do?
“So, for our school life moving forward…”
—No, that’s not it.
The truth is, I couldn’t find a reason to keep fighting.
I’d already lost.
Not just the election—I’d lost to Mea.
To Kurusu-kun, Mea is special, while Nagi is just one of many friends.
What meaning is there in wanting to stay Nagi when that’s the case?
The moment I thought that, I’d already lost.
“So… so…”
Facing the future of defeat, my voice suddenly failed.
I’d been trained to perform flawlessly with a microphone, no matter my mental state.
Yet, without Kurusu-kun by my side, everything crumbled.
“I…”
My sudden faltering caused a stir in the audience.
I had to say something.
Read the script, capture their hearts, win the election—and then what?
My mind went completely blank.
Maybe I should just withdraw.
That thought crossed my mind—when it happened.
The auditorium doors burst open.
“Sorry, I’m late!”
—There, unmistakably, was Kurusu Reo himself.
“Ah…” I stared at him, eyes wide.
In that moment, relief washed over me so intensely I nearly collapsed.
—Why did he come? After I lashed out so cruelly?
Confusion, joy, and shame jumbled together, tears threatening to spill.
Soaked from the rain, he’d come straight to the stage in his drenched uniform.
“I’m Kurusu Reo, Nanasya Nagi’s recommender. I request to take over the final speech.”
He spoke to the election committee member moderating.
“…Approved. But keep to the time limit,” the committee member said with a single admonishment.
Kurusu-kun bowed and stepped onto the stage.
Our eyes met for the first time.
“Um, uh…”
I stumbled over my words, unsure what to say.
Finding my awkwardness amusing, he chuckled, patted my shoulder without a word, and stood before the microphone.
“Hey, everyone! Kurusu Reo, Nanasya Nagi’s recommender, take two. Got a bit delayed, but I made it just in time—lucky for you all! Why? Because you get to hear all about the charms of the super-cute Nagi-chan, perfect for student council president! What a steal, right?”
I was stunned by Kurusu-kun’s casual, un-speech-like tone.
But his next words snapped me back to reality.
“First, Nagi-chan’s charm number one: she barely passed the entrance exam as an alternate. Number two: she was so shy she could hardly hand out flyers.”
“What…?!” I panicked at the sudden exposure of my flaws. What’s he thinking, Kurusu-kun?!
As expected, the audience buzzed, but he continued unfazed.
“…But here’s the thing. That same girl is standing here giving a speech. Her grades weren’t great, yet she organized study sessions to teach others. She worked hard to get to this point.”
He scanned the quieting crowd with a gentle smile.
“Nagi’s not the most adept, and she lacks confidence. This election must’ve been full of tough, painful moments for her. But she never ran from the challenges she faced.”
“Kurusu-kun…” I whispered.
He grinned proudly, as if boasting to the entire school.
“Pretty amazing, right? I don’t think I could’ve made it this far in her shoes.”
—Oh, no.
It’s not over yet. I haven’t achieved anything.
I shouldn’t feel this fulfilled.
I frantically wiped at the tears threatening to fall, clenching my teeth to keep standing.
“She’ll face more challenges, grow each time, and become an incredible president. That’s why I believe Nanasya Nagi is the best choice for student council president.”
He glanced at me, and I thought I saw a small smile.
Embarrassed, I wiped my tears harder.
“Oh, and one more thing,” he added, as if it just occurred to him.
“Nagi-chan and I are starting a photography club, so here’s the announcement. We’ll be based in an empty classroom in the old school building. Join us if you’re interested!”
“…Huh?” I blinked, caught off guard.
A few seconds later, it clicked.
The old-building clubs’ defection was due to the art club’s betrayal, balancing out our policy’s benefits.
But if a new club aligned with me was created…?
—It would tip the power balance in our favor!
“With that, I conclude our final speech,” Kurusu-kun said with a mischievous lilt, bowing.
Beyond him, I saw Mutsu-senpai’s bitter expression, her lips forming the words, “He got me.”
“Sorry about that,” I said, exhausted, sighing as I left the staff room.
“I got chewed out big time…”
Well, promoting a club during a final speech deserved a scolding. Getting off with just a lecture and auditorium cleanup was probably light.
The voting had finished, and now it was time for the tally.
Outside, the sky was painted with the colors of sunset. Cleanup took longer than expected.
As I gazed absently at the scenery, I noticed a familiar figure on the rooftop.
“…That girl.”
I stopped heading to the classroom and changed course.
Climbing the stairs, I opened the door.
There was Nagi, leaning against the fence, staring at the landscape.
“Hey.”
“…Hey,” she replied softly.
I stepped around a puddle to stand beside her, pulling a piece of paper from my pocket and handing it to her.
“What’s this?”
“Club application.”
She stared at the form labeled “Photography Club.”
“When did you make a photography club?”
“Just now. Like, five minutes before the speech? Lucky there was a teacher in the staff room.”
Convincing a random teacher I spotted in the staff room was a hassle. I practically clung to them as they tried to leave for the auditorium, securing approval in my soaked uniform.
“You came up with a wild plan,” she said.
“Yeah. Mutsu-senpai gave me the hint.”
“Hint?” Nagi tilted her head.
I explained the unease I felt that morning.
The oddity of her approaching us at that moment.
“I get wanting to calm your supporters’ backlash, but inviting me too? That’s weird. I’m the one most likely to hold a grudge.”
Mutsu-senpai saw through my strategy and turned it against me, securing her victory. For a schemer like me, it was humiliating.
There was no reason to invite me—just the risk of harboring a troublemaker.
An obvious high-risk, no-reward move. She couldn’t have missed that, yet she invited me.
There was only one reason: she needed to separate me from Nagi’s camp.
Which meant I still had a chance to turn things around.
“…And that was starting a new club?” Nagi asked.
“Yeah. A club undeniably tied to you, led by someone unaffiliated with any other club. In Mutsu-senpai’s strategy, I was the biggest threat.”
If she hadn’t noticed that possibility, she wouldn’t have given me the hint.
“Reconciliation was just a pretext. Her goal was to remove me from your side. If that failed, she’d mislead me to lock my thinking. That was her plan.”
In hindsight, she was steering us toward the first-year votes that morning.
That’s why I felt something was off.
“…She probably thought you’d figure it out anyway,” Nagi said, scribbling her name on the form and handing it back. “If she hadn’t had a spy in the old building, your plan might’ve beaten her. She was scared of you.”
“Thanks to your quick thinking, we pulled through,
“You mean again, right?” I teased.
She pouted and looked away. “…Sure, let’s say that.”
“Not very honest, are you, Nagi-chan?”
I chuckled, then gazed at the scenery below.
After the rain, a lake-like puddle had formed on the field, reflecting the school beautifully.
“That’d make a great photo,” I said, pointing at the puddle.
Nagi nodded. “Yeah. But you’d need to watch the lighting angle, or faces will be shadowed.”
“Sounds like a pain to adjust reflectors for,” I added.
We locked eyes, sharing a wry smile.
“…This feels nostalgic,” Nagi said.
“Yeah,” I agreed, turning back to the view.
“The Nightmare of Calamity,” the influencer and idol who took the world by storm.
But that momentum wasn’t there from the start.
Taking photos in various places, with different outfits, and posting them regularly was a huge task for middle schoolers, especially financially.
So we biked around until our legs ached to find locations, scouted from high places for photogenic spots.
“Once things took off, money wasn’t an issue, but the early days were rough,” Nagi said with a wry smile.
I gave her a pointed look. “…And the later days, when your splurging caused budget issues. Gems, really?”
“Ugh… Sorry about that,” she groaned, apologizing sincerely.
I laughed lightly, reminiscing. “But those days were fun. You were a mess, but getting dragged along wasn’t so bad.”
“…Yeah,” Nagi said, her smile tinged with sadness.
“For you, those were probably the best days. Way better than being with me now.”
“…I don’t think that,” I denied.
But she shook her head, unconvinced. “You don’t have to be nice. I know everyone wants Mea. I’ve heard it all—come back, it’s a waste to quit. They all prefer Mea over me.”
She looked down, biting her lip.
“But… what’s Nagi here for, then? Who even sees her? It’s like Nagi doesn’t matter either way.”
—I know.
I know that struggle.
The same one I confessed to Nagi the day we met.
The fear of not mattering to anyone, the pain of losing your own worth.
I know it all too well.
“Live for the value you choose, not for strangers. You’re the one who told me that,” I said, echoing her past words.
Tears in her eyes, she looked straight at me. “…I know that! I don’t care about strangers!”
She grabbed my hand, clinging to it. “But… you’re different! That’s all I’ve cared about!”
—Yeah, I get it.
I’ve been worried about Nagi’s feelings this whole time.
That’s why I’ve fought so hard.
I need to tell her properly.
“I just… wanted you to feel it wasn’t so bad,” I said, my voice like a confession.
“I had fun with Mea. It’s my most precious memory. She saved me.”
If I hadn’t met her, who would I be? That encounter was so special it scares me to think otherwise.
But—I never thought it would last forever.
“I never expected Mea to stay the same. Just like I changed, I knew you would too. I always knew that… and I wanted to stay friends even after.”
Being chuuni is like a sunset.
A fleeting glow between day and night.
I never thought it could last forever, but I wanted to cherish that time even as an adult.
“But you rejected everything about being Mea. Our meeting, our time together, seeing you off—it was all treasure to me. Knowing it’s just a shameful past you want to forget… it hurt. Honestly, it broke me.”
Like finding out a close friend thought I was nothing.
Like Mea’s memories were just my one-sided effort.
That fear, that refusal to accept it—that’s why I decided.
My personal goal through this election.
“So all this time… I wanted you to feel that even though we were ridiculously cringey, it wasn’t a bad memory. That it was fun.”
That’s why I had you do Mea-like things during the election.
Hoping you’d stop rejecting her ways, even a little.
That was everything I was scheming behind my efforts to make you win.
“That’s…” Nagi’s tears fell in big drops as she heard my confession.
“That’s… I already feel that! I’m glad I met you, I had fun with you, and even though we were embarrassingly cringey, it’s a precious memory. That’s why… I just didn’t want to lose to the old me!”
—She wanted to say that this moment was as precious as those memories.
Her voice trembled as she forced the words out.
“…I see. Yeah, I get it.”
I wanted her to feel the past was as good as the present.
She wanted to prove the present was as fun as the past.
We were looking in opposite directions but saying the same thing.
“…We took the long way, huh?” I said.
“More like spinning our wheels,” she replied.
We shared a wry smile.
Taking detours, spinning aimlessly, still as cringey as ever.
But that cringe is dear to us.
Because we’re certain it holds something precious just for us.
Then, a cheerful ding-dong rang from the school speakers.
“The election committee has finished counting the votes. We will now announce the results.”
At the cold announcement, Nagi gripped my sleeve tightly.
I covered her hand with mine, and she looked up, surprised, then smiled and gripped back.
Together, we awaited our fate.
“Mutsu Issa-san received 411 votes. Nanasya Nagi-san received 423 votes. Therefore, this year’s student council president is—Nanasya Nagi-san.”
We turned to each other, stunned.
The shock lasted a moment before joy exploded, and we hugged instinctively.
“We… we did it! We did it, Kurusu-kun!” Nagi shouted, bouncing in my arms.
“Yeah! Congrats, Nagi!” I said, laughing.
“Thank you! It’s all thanks to you!” she said, beaming up at me.
Caught off guard by her radiant smile, I looked at the sky to hide my flustered state.
Then, I noticed something, a memory flashing through my mind.
“We need to celebrate. Here’s my gift to you,” I said, snapping my fingers and pointing behind her.
When she turned, a rainbow arched across the rain-cleared sunset, painting the sky beautifully.
“It’s gorgeous… but you’re such an idiot,” Nagi said, momentarily captivated before pouting, catching the homage in my gesture.
“Come on, why can’t you just let me be moved?” she huffed.
I laughed at her sulky expression and turned back to the scenery.
The same sunset rainbow as back then, seen by a different us.
—And that was okay.
Because this rainbow was just as beautiful as the one from those days.
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