Chapter 3: The Footsteps of Collapse
The pre-final exam club suspension period began.
No club, no Alliance activities. That meant I had to go home earlier.
I had a few ways to delay my return, but I didn’t want to spend money. So I studied at the library, but it closed at seven. The nights after that were truly long.
Lately, I’d been in a terribly gloomy mood.
“Hey, that’s Tsukimi-senpai.”
“She’s as beautiful as ever.”
While moving between classes, I caught sight of Tsukimi-senpai. The boys in my class walking ahead of me were overjoyed.
We hadn’t spoken in just a few days, but it felt like I hadn’t seen her in ages.
“—A study group? Yeah, if you’re okay with me.”
“Eh, seriously?! Everyone, Kaede said she’ll teach us!”
“I want to join!”
“Me too, me too!”
Tsukimi-senpai was surrounded by people, as usual, wearing her usual gentle smile.
I had some thoughts about our last conversation. But with no Alliance activities, there was no opportunity to talk. And with the Covenant in place, I couldn’t just go up and talk to her.
“Alright! Time to study!”
“You’s got all the motivation, but his grades don’t show it.”
“Studying’s a drag. Can you share some of that motivation?”
In the classroom, Akazawa was livening up the atmosphere as always.
“Kanon-chan, are you studying properly?”
“Hmph, how rude. I get good grades, you know~?”
Kazemiya, who I passed in the hallway, puffed out her cheeks coquettishly.
“We’re going to karaoke. Hey Misato, you’re coming too.”
“O-Okay… Just a minute.”
After school, I saw Ogino in town, being dragged around by Miyazawa and her friends.
It was only natural, but everyone had their own separate daily lives.
…So there was no point in thinking about it now.
To distract myself from these swirling emotions, I focused on studying for the exams.
I hadn’t even thought about the future, but it was never a bad thing to have good grades.
The three days of final exams were over.
I’d done better this time than ever before. It was probably thanks to Tsukimi-senpai holding regular study sessions for the Alliance.
Club activities were starting up again today, which meant the Alliance would finally be back in session, too.
“Ugh, it’s cold again today.”
“Haha, you’ll warm up once you start moving.”
“It got cold all of a sudden, didn’t it?”
On the gym court, the club members, gathered for the first time in a while, were chatting idly.
During the club suspension period, the weather had transformed into winter. Before I knew it, my breath was turning white in the air.
“Let’s give it our all again starting today.”
On the adjacent court, Tsukimi-senpai was rallying the members of the girls’ basketball team.
“The autumn tournament was a frustrating result. We can’t let it end like this.”
She seemed to be her usual self. Perhaps the break for exams had helped her recover from their defeat in the tournament.
—That’s what I thought. Until I saw her play.
“Nice shot, Tsukimi-senpai!”
The girls’ team erupted in cheers.
In their five-on-five scrimmage, only one side’s score was going up. It was hard to believe it was the work of a single player.
Just now, Tsukimi-senpai had received a pass in the corner and forced a layup.
The word “unstoppable” was the only way to describe the scene.
Even we, on the next court over, couldn't help but stare.
“Damn, Tsukimi’s on fire. She’s in top form.”
“Isn’t she being a little too aggressive, though?”
“The fact that she makes those shots is what’s so incredible.”
It wasn’t her usual perfection… something was different. Her playstyle had clearly changed. She’d gone from her usual play, which brought out the best in her teammates, to a one-woman show that seemed to flaunt her own abilities.
…If I had to guess the reason for the change, it would be their second-round exit in the autumn tournament. Had that defeat altered her style of play?
Either way, it was a fact that they were now Tsukimi-senpai’s one-woman team. Before, she had always tried to utilize her teammates as much as possible. Had she decided that approach wouldn’t work anymore?
Admittedly, her current style looked like the optimal solution.
Get the ball to Tsukimi-senpai, and Tsukimi-senpai scores.
It was a simple strategy. If this team was going to beat the powerhouses, this was the only way.
But… it was a far cry from the image I’d had of her until now. She’d always possessed a charisma that dominated the court, but the direction was different. It had changed from a presence that naturally put her at the center of the group to one that simply overwhelmed them.
Even after our practice ended, Tsukimi-senpai was still on the adjacent court, doing individual drills.
The two of us were now alone in the gym, but I hesitated to approach her while she was so focused.
I headed to the secret base first, where Akazawa, Kazemiya, and Ogino were already gathered.
Seeing the familiar scene for the first time in a week, I felt a small sense of relief. My sanctuary was still here.
“Hey, everyone. It’s been a while.”
“You look happy, Minase,” Akazawa said, a grin spreading across his face as he teased me.
“Hmph. It’s only been a week,” Kazemiya snorted, but the corners of her mouth were turned up.
“I missed you all, too,” Ogino said. Her expression was unchanged, but her words were direct.
“Still… it’s cold.”
The late November nights were definitely getting chilly.
“You guys should bring blankets, too,” Ogino suggested, snuggled up in a fluffy one of her own.
“How’d you manage to bring something so bulky?”
“I stuffed it in a big bag and hid it in an empty classroom during the day.”
“I brought hand warmers. You can use them,” Kazemiya offered, pointing to a plastic bag full of them on the table.
“…Thanks.”
Come to think of it, I never did get to discuss countermeasures for the cold with Tsukimi-senpai. The club suspension period had started right after that conversation.
“…Where’s Kaede-senpai?” Kazemiya asked.
“She was still doing individual practice.”
“So she’ll be here in a little bit?”
“…Probably.”
That’s what I said, but even after waiting a while, Tsukimi-senpai didn’t show.
“Is Kaede not coming?” Ogino asked, a worried tone in her voice.
“It’s rare for Kaede-senpai to miss an activity,” Kazemiya noted.
“…Yeah.”
It was common for not everyone to be here. But Tsukimi-senpai had almost perfect attendance. Even on weekends when there were no official activities.
“I wish we could contact her at times like these,” Ogino grumbled, looking at her phone. I knew how she felt.
“…I’ll go check on her.”
I left the secret base and headed back to the gym.
But the gym was already dark and locked up. That meant Tsukimi-senpai had finished her practice. I thought she might be changing, but the lights in the girls’ clubroom were off.
Honestly, I had a bad feeling.
I understand now. I don’t belong here anymore.
Her words from a week ago flashed through my mind.
No way, I thought… but did she quit the Alliance?
I tried to dismiss the thought, but nothing else came to mind.
“…Looks like she went home.”
I returned to the secret base and reported to the others. They all looked at each other, stunned.
“…Is it my fault?” Ogino eventually mumbled.
It was true that before the break, Tsukimi-senpai and Ogino had been on awkward terms. But even then, she had still come to the Alliance meetings.
“…No. It’s probably my fault.”
The only thing I could think of was my argument with her.
“Maybe she’s just not feeling well today. Don’t overthink it,” Akazawa said, trying to calm everyone down.
“…Right?” Kazemiya asked, seeking reassurance.
But this time, I couldn’t give an easy “probably” in response.
The next day, after practice.
“Thanks for staying with me, everyone.”
“It’s no problem at all! Anything for you, Tsukimi-senpai!”
Today, Tsukimi-senpai was practicing with her underclassmen. From what I overheard, she had been the one to invite them.
With people unrelated to the Alliance around, I couldn’t talk to her. It was as if she was actively avoiding being alone with me.
“…She’s not coming today, either.”
And so, Tsukimi-senpai, who had perfect attendance, missed the secret base meeting for the second day in a row.
“I wonder if something happened?”
“She’s coming to club practice, right?” Kazemiya murmured worriedly, while Akazawa grunted with a grim expression.
“…Yeah. But she’s not acting like her usual self.”
I explained the change in Tsukimi-senpai’s playstyle to everyone, and how I suspected it was related to the results of the autumn tournament.
“But… does that have anything to do with the Alliance?”
“I don’t know that much. But it might be my fault.”
I told them about my conversation with Tsukimi-senpai on the day we were alone.
“…I had a similar conversation with her,” Kazemiya admitted.
“Me too,” said Akazawa.
“Yeah, me too,” Ogino added.
It seemed Tsukimi-senpai had brought up the same topic with everyone: whether or not the Covenant needed to be changed.
“What did you guys say?”
“I said there was no need to change it. That she should do as she wished,” Akazawa replied.
“I… said maybe it would be okay to change it,” said Kazemiya.
“…I don’t know what to do. That’s what I said.”
Our different stances on the Covenant were clear.
“…Did she abandon the Alliance because we were all divided?” Ogino’s whisper hung in the air, and no one could respond.
Tomorrow, Tsukimi-senpai would show up as if nothing had happened, apologizing to us with a cheerful “Sorry, sorry!”
That’s what I wanted to believe.
But the reality was, she didn’t come the next day, either.
“…What do we do?”
A heavy silence lay over the secret base.
“Are we okay just leaving things like this?”
“Of course not. But… what are we supposed to do?”
We knew almost nothing about Tsukimi-senpai. We had no idea why she had stopped coming to the Alliance.
“We have no choice but to ask her directly.”
“But she’s always with her underclassmen during practice, right?”
“…Yeah, she’s never alone lately. During the day, she’s with her friends, too.”
“Approaching her in that situation would violate the Covenant.”
“But if we just wait…”
“Minase,” Akazawa cut in, reining in my impatience. “Kaede was so particular about the Covenant. If someone breaks it, she might never come back. And besides, asking her about her situation now would most likely count as interfering with her secrets.”
“A double violation of the Covenant,” Kazemiya said with a bitter smile, then added resentfully, “But then… there’s nothing we can do, is there?”
“—That’s right. All we can do is wait here,” Akazawa concluded, choosing to maintain the status quo, even though he knew it couldn’t last.
“You think she’ll come back if we just wait?”
“Yeah.”
“…Are you sure about that?”
It felt like we could be waiting for an eternity.
“Even if there were no Covenant, the reason she’s not talking is because she wants to hide it,” Akazawa continued, his expression serious. “I don’t think forcing someone to reveal a secret they’re hiding will lead to a good outcome.”
His words were so correct that I had no rebuttal.
“…I agree with You,” Ogino mumbled. Kazemiya said nothing.
“We will wait for Kaede. If you’re going to do something, you do it alone.”
Akazawa’s words were dismissive, ending the conversation.
“Kaede, nice shot!”
Tsukimi-senpai was dominating the court again today. The only thing that had changed was her basketball playstyle. She still had the trust of her teammates, and there were no problems.
That’s what made it so confusing. Why had she suddenly stopped coming to the Alliance?
“Tsukimi-senpai!”
I waited for the right moment and called out to her during her individual practice. The underclassmen she was with had gone to the restroom, leaving us alone.
I knew this was a gray area, but I had no other choice.
Tsukimi-senpai narrowed her eyes slightly.
“Um… you’re from the boys’ basketball team, right? Can I help you with something?” she asked with a gentle smile, tilting her head.
“Why… aren’t you coming to the Alliance?”
“…I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
—She was completely feigning ignorance, treating me like a stranger.
Her rejection was so clear that I was at a loss for words. I had thought that if I spoke to her directly, she would show me her true face. But reality was different.
“No… it’s nothing.”
“Really? Well then, I’m going back to my practice.”
All I could do was watch her walk away.
She didn’t come the next day, or the day after that.
December had begun. Winter break would be here soon. If things stayed like this, I had a feeling Tsukimi-senpai would never come back.
Our own gatherings were becoming less frequent, too.
“…Just me today, huh?”
I lay down on the carpet. Alone, it felt incredibly spacious.
The night was long again today. Just two hours felt like an eternity.
“It really is cold…”
The door creaked open. Standing there, hugging her arms against the cold, was Kazemiya. She was wearing a coat over her uniform and a scarf wrapped around her neck, fully prepared for the weather.
“Wh-What are you doing here?”
“…Is something wrong? This is our secret base, isn’t it?”
“It’s just that you haven’t been coming as often lately.”
“Of course not. It’s too cold to spend time here.”
As she spoke, Kazemiya called me over. “Come on, give me a hand.”
Wondering what was up, I went outside to find her bicycle. A small electric heater was barely squeezed into the basket.
“Carry it. With this, things should be a little more bearable.”
Kazemiya pulled the heater from the basket and handed it to me. It was heavy, but not unmanageable. I placed it inside the secret base.
“…Did you bring this from home?”
“I bought it. One that I could manage to carry.”
That must have been a huge pain. And it couldn’t have been cheap.
As Kazemiya went to plug the heater into the outlet, she averted her eyes awkwardly.
“Wh-What? We were already using the electricity, so what’s the big deal now?”
“…Yeah, you’re right. It’s too late to worry about that. We’ll have to chip in for it later.”
I couldn’t help but smile, feeling a sudden wave of happiness.
For a moment, Kazemiya’s cheeks relaxed in what looked like relief, before she quickly turned her face away.
“It’s fine. I bought it on my own.”
“We can’t have that. It’s going to belong to the Alliance.”
“…Do whatever you want.”
Kazemiya switched on the heater.
“I wasn’t expecting much, but it’s surprisingly warm for its size,” she said with a small smile.
Then, she plopped down next to me.
“Thanks, Kazemiya.”
“…It’s not for you, you know.”
She wasn’t being honest, but I could tell she wanted to protect the Alliance.
I felt the same way. I wanted to spend the nights here, with everyone. And that “everyone,” of course, included Tsukimi-senpai.
“…It might be our fault, for saying we should change the Covenant,” Kazemiya said, sounding dejected.
“I do think that’s one of the factors.”
But it probably wasn’t the core of the problem Tsukimi-senpai was facing. She had been acting strange lately. But she hadn’t relied on us. And we, bound by the Covenant, could do nothing. We couldn’t even find out what the problem was.
I understand now. I don’t belong here anymore.
I didn’t believe those were her true feelings. It was obvious how much she cherished the Alliance. The reason she was so adamant about the Covenant was to protect it.
“…We were always relying on Tsukimi-senpai, weren’t we?”
There was the fact that she was our senior, and the founder. But even so, I think we took her for granted.
“This was supposed to be an alliance for mutual support, but we weren’t supporting her at all.”
And this was the result. Tsukimi-senpai wouldn’t rely on us.
So, what should we do?
Was it really okay to just wait, like Akazawa said?
“I want to help Tsukimi-senpai.”
To do that, the Covenant was an obstacle.
“…If you commit a major violation, you’ll be exiled from the Alliance, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Even without Tsukimi-senpai, Akazawa would surely uphold the Covenant. A careless move could cost me this precious sanctuary.
The thought of going back to being alone… was honestly terrifying.
But the Alliance without Tsukimi-senpai was missing a vital piece.
The five of us were the Don’t Want To Go Home Alliance. We couldn’t continue our activities without her.
And unless I was mistaken, I think she needed us, too.
‘…Do you know why things ended up like this?’
The incident from two years ago flashed through my mind.
Knowing nothing, I couldn’t save my parents. Even now, I didn’t know what caused it. When I came to, I was all alone.
I didn’t want to go through that again. So I steeled my resolve.
“—I’m going to uncover Tsukimi-senpai’s secret.”
I didn’t care if I was exiled for breaking the Covenant.
Don’t be afraid of change.
If we were going to step into each other’s secrets, we couldn’t be just comrades. We needed to become something else.
“I’ll find out what problem she’s hiding, and I’ll help her solve it.”
“…I see. You’re going to break the Covenant.”
“Are you against it?”
Kazemiya shook her head.
“I want to get Kaede-senpai back, too.”
It seemed she felt the same way I did.
“This place needs Kaede-senpai. No… that’s not it,” she said, then declared in a strong voice, as if convincing herself, “I want to be with Kaede-senpai. For that, I’ll help you, Minase.”
“Thank you, Kazemiya.”
I held out my hand to her. She took it, looking a little embarrassed.
“…But what should we do?”
“First, we need information.”
To have a conversation with the current Tsukimi-senpai, we needed a starting point.
“Should we talk to someone from her junior high?”
But I didn’t even know which junior high she went to. How long would it take to identify a student from the same school?
“…If a loner like me starts asking around, they’ll just treat me like a stalker and won’t tell me anything.”
In situations like this, being a loner was a disadvantage.
“It’s not that they’ll treat you like a stalker. You are a stalker.”
“…You’re right.”
After all, this wasn’t what Tsukimi-senpai wanted.
“You have me, don’t you?” Kazemiya said, her face flushing slightly. “No one might talk to you, but it wouldn’t seem weird if I asked, right?”
“You’ll do the digging for me?”
“…You’re not the only one who wants to protect this place. In fact, you’re the newest member. You shouldn’t think you can handle this alone,” she said, turning her face away with a huff.
Three days later, during lunch break, I passed Kazemiya in the hallway.
“Come to the rooftop,” she whispered.
I did as she said and headed for the roof. I found her sitting on the landing of the stairs leading up to it.
“Isn’t the rooftop locked?”
“That’s exactly why almost no one comes to these stairs.”
I sat down next to her and started eating my lunch.
“…Is this a violation of the Covenant?”
“We’re alone and no one can hear us, but we’re meeting at school during the day…”
Considering our definition as comrades who only spend the night together, it was highly likely a violation.
“But you decided to break the Covenant, right?”
“I-I know, but… it’s still scary.”
“You’re such a model student, Kazemiya.”
She had a sharp tongue, but she was a good person at heart.
“If you didn’t want to break the Covenant, couldn’t we have done this at night?”
“At night, Yō and Misato might be at the secret base. They’ll definitely be against us breaking the Covenant. So it’s better to have our strategy meetings during the day.”
True, Akazawa and the others had chosen to “wait.” I couldn’t imagine overturning Akazawa’s firm stance, let alone Ogino’s.
“So, did you find anything?”
“Yes,” Kazemiya said, her expression turning serious. “First, it seems Kaede-senpai had an older sister.”
She used the past tense. I could already imagine what was coming next.
“—She died in a car accident three years ago.”
Kazemiya was telling me something that was likely close to the core of Tsukimi-senpai’s secret. She was probably so insistent on the Covenant because it was something that could be easily found out with a little digging.
“Her name was Tsukimi Sakura. She was two years older than Kaede-senpai, and just like her, she was a perfect superhuman who excelled in academics, sports, and looks. She was a great basketball player and was famous in the area.”
The description sounded exactly like what you’d expect from Tsukimi-senpai’s sister.
“Apparently, the old Kaede-senpai was always in her sister’s shadow and didn’t stand out.”
“That’s surprising. Tsukimi-senpai, not standing out?”
“I know. In fact, some people said that the old Kaede-senpai was a total dork.”
“That’s not… entirely unbelievable.”
Because we knew the Tsukimi-senpai of the night. We knew that her true self came out in the freedom of the night.
“You know, when I heard that, it kind of clicked for me, too.”
“…Any information about the rest of her family?”
“Nothing in particular. I asked, but no one knew.”
Tsukimi Sakura, two years her senior, died three years ago. That meant Tsukimi-senpai was in her second year of junior high, and her sister was in her first year of high school.
“Tsukimi-senpai’s sister went to this school.”
“Could she have been on the girls’ basketball team?”
“Yeah, it seems so. I asked the club advisor, and he reluctantly told me.”
“You’ve got an impressive information network.”
To gather all this in just a few days.
“But it’ll be difficult to get any more information. There aren’t that many people from Tsukimi-senpai’s junior high. If I start asking people she doesn’t know, word might get back to her.”
“…Thank you, Kazemiya.”
To have a conversation with the current Tsukimi-senpai, I needed a powerful weapon. Just talking to her wasn’t enough. I needed to get her to take off her mask. That’s why I had chosen the drastic measure of uncovering her secret.
“I have a few hypotheses in my head… but will that be enough to shake her?”
I felt like it wasn’t enough. This weapon alone wasn’t enough to fight.
“At this point, don’t you just have to appeal to her emotions?”
Kazemiya was right.
I want to help Tsukimi-senpai. Why?
Because I want to spend the nights with her again. Why?
What kind of feelings do I have for Tsukimi-senpai?
“Going to confess your love or something?”
“…I don’t think mere words will reach the current Tsukimi-senpai.”
Just confessing my love would be pointless. She was probably used to that sort of thing. My feelings would just be one among a sea of countless others.
“…Wait, a confession?”
“Did you think of something?”
“…Yeah, I did.”
I had an idea. To be honest, I didn’t want to do it. Just thinking about it made me want to give up.
But that was precisely why it might be the only way to peel off her mask.
“The problem is how to get her alone.”
“That’s the hardest part. She’s always surrounded by people.”
“…We’ll have to lure her out. By taking advantage of her daytime personality.”
“Her daytime personality?”
I looked at the puzzled Kazemiya and said, “She never turns down a request for help.”
“So you’re going to trap her. Wow, she’s going to hate you.”
“At the point where we’ve broken the Covenant, I’m prepared to be hated.”
Our choice was a gamble. The correct answer was probably the one Akazawa and the others chose: to wait.
Even so, I wanted to call the feeling of choosing to change “courage.”
“You’re right…” Kazemiya said, her expression downcast. She must have been really scared of being hated.
“Kazemiya, will you leave it to me?”
“What are you planning to do?”
I flashed a grin at her questioning look.
“—I call it the Double Confession Grand Strategy.”
Another night after club practice arrived.
Tsukimi-senpai was starting her individual practice as usual.
“Um, Tsukimi-senpai. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about…”
The one who approached her was a first-year on the girls’ basketball team, Kashima Arisa.
“A consultation? Sure, what is it?”
“It’s just… not here. Can we go somewhere else?”
“Of course.”
Tsukimi-senpai smiled brightly.
The two of them came around to the back of the gym, where I was waiting.
Tsukimi-senpai noticed my presence and narrowed her eyes slightly. She immediately looked away, but Kashima stopped right next to me.
“—I’m so sorry! The consultation was a lie!” Kashima said, bowing her head deeply. “That person said he wanted to tell you his feelings! Please forgive me!”
Even as she apologized, she let out an excited squeal. As she ran back to the gym, she cheered, “Good luck~!”
“Tsukimi-senpai. I’m not letting you get away today.”
After a moment of silence, Tsukimi-senpai sighed.
“…That was forceful. Using a first-year from the girls’ team.”
For the record, it wasn’t me who asked her. It was through Kazemiya. We chose Kashima from the girls’ team because she was tight-lipped. A confession could easily attract a crowd of onlookers, but I didn’t feel any eyes on us.
Still, there was a chance someone could pass by here.
“Let’s move to the secret base.”
I started walking, and Tsukimi-senpai reluctantly followed.
At least I had cleared the first stage: getting her to talk to me alone.
“—This is a violation of the Covenant.”
After we entered the secret base, Tsukimi-senpai spoke.
“I told you, didn’t I? That I would impose social sanctions.”
“What kind of sanctions, specifically?”
“…Nasty rumors about you will spread. That you tried to assault me, or something.”
“Go ahead and try. A loner like me has nothing to lose.”
“…”
In a way, I was invincible. And in this situation, the invincible man is the strongest. I had left Kazemiya behind specifically so I could press this logic.
“I also said that a major violation would result in exile from the Alliance.”
“Can you do that, when you’re the one who stopped coming?”
“Even if I’m gone, Yō-kun is still here. And Yō-kun is carrying on my will.”
“…It’s true, Akazawa and the others chose to wait.”
“That’s the correct answer. We’re just comrades who spend the night together.”
“Then if we wait, will you come back?”
“…”
Tsukimi-senpai didn’t answer.
“That’s why I called you out here like this.”
“…In the end, what is it you want to say? Do you want me to come back?”
“No. My business is a confession.”
“…Do you like me, Minase-kun?” Tsukimi-senpai asked, her mask firmly in place, showing no signs of being flustered.
“Of course I like you. But I’m not here to confess my love.”
Tsukimi-senpai furrowed her brow, looking puzzled.
“—I want to confess my secret.”
That was the weapon to shake her heart. An action that would show her how much I cared about her.
“I-I don’t want to hear that!”
Tsukimi-senpai was flustered. Her mask was starting to crack. Because she knew. She knew why I had been wearing a mask all this time. So she understood the gravity of confessing a secret.
“It’s not a violation of the Covenant if I tell you myself, right?”
“Even so, you kept it a secret because you didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t you?!”
She was right. I had intended to take this secret to my grave. It was terrifying to reveal a secret to someone else. It was like prying open a bandaged wound.
“I want you to hear it, Tsukimi-senpai.”
That was precisely why revealing my secret would be a testament of my trust.
The superficial relationship where we didn’t interfere with each other’s secrets was over.
“…If I hear your secret, we can’t be comrades anymore.”
“I know. That’s why I want to start a new relationship with you.”
I would open my heart to her. So I wanted her to open her heart to me, too.
There was a word for that kind of relationship.
“—Please be my friend.”
Tsukimi-senpai cast her eyes down.
“…You don’t have to force yourself.”
Then she looked at me with concern in her eyes.
“It’s traumatic for you, isn’t it? To talk about the past.”
“…So you noticed.”
“Choosing to be a loner just to protect a secret… your methods are extreme.”
She was right. Ever since that incident, talking about the past had become a trauma for me. Even when I was just talking with friends, I would feel like I was drowning, struggling to breathe.
So I chose to be alone. If I didn’t talk to anyone, at least I was okay during the day.
I put on a mask and closed off my heart. I resolved not to make any friends.
But through our nighttime interactions, I had come to want to open my heart to Tsukimi-senpai.
“—My parents died two years ago.”
A cold sweat started to pour down my face.
“…I was told it was a double suicide. They jumped.”
As I spoke about that time, the detailed circumstances came flooding back. It wasn’t that I had forgotten. I had just been keeping a lid on those memories.
Putting them into words made the memories vivid. It gradually became harder to breathe.
“M-Minase-kun?!”
I must have looked really bad, because Tsukimi-senpai rushed over to me.
“I came home and no one was there. I thought it was strange, and then the phone rang.”
“Stop. Don’t say any more.”
“…If I can’t tell you, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to tell anyone.”
I took a slow, deep breath. Once my breathing had calmed, I continued.
“The person on the phone was the police. I don’t remember much of what happened until the wake.”
My father was a teacher, and my mother was a lawyer. I think we were a stricter family than most. My father was hands-off, but he would scold me harshly when I caused trouble. My mother was overprotective and a worrier, enough to make up for my father’s approach. She was the type of person who would do things for her child before they even thought of it. I had been spoiled by her. I thought we were a happy family.
But I was mistaken.
“Even when I saw their bodies, their eyes closed, I was in denial. I thought they would open their eyelids at any moment and call my name. But the reality finally sank in the next night.”
My parents were no longer in this world.
So when I went home, no one was there.
“It was from then on that the nights started to feel suffocating.”
Suddenly, Tsukimi-senpai wrapped her arms around me.
“…My relatives were arguing about what to do with me.”
It was probably because my body was shaking. Her hands were on my back. She was soft, and warm. My heart pounded in my chest. The beat helped to distract from the breathlessness.
Her warmth told me that I wasn’t alone.
So I could continue speaking.
“…Thinking about it now, it’s only natural. If both parents commit suicide, there must be something wrong with the child they left behind. No one wants to take in a child like that.”
In fact, there was nothing to deny that. Because the cause was unknown. They didn’t even leave a note.
“…I still don’t know why they killed themselves.”
It was so sudden. There were no warning signs. I suspected it might have been a murder disguised as a suicide, but the police closed the investigation quickly. The evidence at the scene pointed to a double suicide by jumping.
“But I think it was my fault. Because I can’t think of any other reason.”
There was something wrong with me, something that made my parents, who had been so kind to me, decide to die.
“It’s not your fault, Minase-kun.”
Squeeze.
Tsukimi-senpai’s arms tightened around me.
“What makes you say that…?”
“Because I know your kindness.”
As I was still wrapped in Tsukimi-senpai’s embrace, she shook her head.
Her gesture eased some of the tension in my chest, allowing me to slowly spin the rest of my tale.
“…After a huge fight among my relatives, my uncle ended up taking me in.”
My uncle’s children were already grown, so his household had the capacity. He made a decent living in real estate, and with his kids having moved out, there was a spare room. Apparently, his relationship with my aunt had been good, too—until I arrived.
“But my aunt was dead set against me living with them, and the two of them fought every single day.”
I think they tried to keep me from hearing, but of course, I noticed. My arrival had turned my aunt and uncle into a couple who did nothing but argue.
“I’ve slowly gotten used to life without my parents, but even now, I can’t get used to living in the same house as them. They never say it to my face, but it’s obvious they see me as a nuisance.”
Logically, I should be grateful just to have a roof over my head. They’re the ones paying for my living expenses and tuition, after all. I’m sure my parents left some savings behind, but it’s been two years.
But they don’t want me in that house. There’s no place for me there.
“—That’s why I didn’t want to go home.”
Tsukimi-senpai listened in silence to my broken words.
“At school, too, I was handled with kid gloves.”
It was only natural. Who could possibly talk to a classmate whose parents had both committed suicide?
Back then, I was a central figure at school. It’s not like I’m bragging, but I had leadership qualities. And it was precisely because I stood out that everyone was so careful about how they treated me.
“I found out that the people who used to be my friends were calling me the ‘cursed child.’”
Apparently, they thought I was the demon who had killed my own parents.
“Ever since then, just touching on the past makes me feel like I’m drowning, struggling to breathe.”
I wanted to go somewhere no one knew my past. That’s why I chose a high school where no one from my junior high had enrolled.
“So I made my past a secret and chose to be alone.”
It was boring, but it was a way to live without my heart being stirred.
“…That’s my secret.”
Or, to be more precise, it was.
Because now, Tsukimi-senpai knew everything.
I had nothing left to hide from her.
“…Once you know, you can’t go back,” Tsukimi-senpai, still holding me, eventually murmured. “You can’t unknow it.”
“I understand. I was able to tell you because it was you, Senpai.”
I revealed my secret because I trusted her. I was able to reveal it. If it had been anyone else, I think I would have choked on my words halfway through.
“…Why did you go that far?”
She released her embrace and faced me.
“Because I want you to come back, Senpai.”
“…You all can have fun without me.”
“It’s more fun when you’re with us,” I answered instantly.
Tsukimi-senpai’s face crumpled.
“…You should understand without me having to say it. I can’t be there anymore.”
“So you’re quitting the Alliance?” I asked for confirmation.
Tsukimi-senpai was visibly flustered. “Yes… I’m quitting the Don’t Want To Go Home Alliance.”
“Was the catalyst for that decision your team’s second-round exit in the autumn tournament?”
At my question, she winced. A direct hit, I see.
“…That’s a secret. Just because you told me yours doesn’t mean I have to tell you mine.”
“In that case, I’ll uncover your secret myself.”
“…You’re insensitive. To so brazenly declare you’ll do something someone else hates.”
“It’s to help a friend.”
“…You already think we’re friends?”
“That’s why I revealed my secret.”
“I haven’t agreed to it yet.”
“This is a matter of my own perception.”
She stated she was quitting the Alliance. She and I were no longer comrades.
So, we would become friends. I hadn’t gotten her permission yet, but I was deciding it was so.
“—Do you think sharing secrets is what makes people friends?”
Hearing her words, Tsukimi-senpai’s eyes narrowed slightly.
I shook my head at her question.
“No.”
Everyone in the Alliance taught me that. That it wasn’t necessary.
“It’s because you’re my friend that I want to know. I want to know about you, and if you’re in trouble, I want to help.”
When I told her that, Tsukimi-senpai looked down. Could I take that as my feelings getting through to her?
“…Can you really uncover my secret?”
I was sure there were contradictory feelings inside her. The desire to keep her secrets hidden, and the desire to be helped. Those feelings were all jumbled up, and she herself didn’t know what to do.
That’s why she had resorted to such an extreme action as suddenly abandoning her own sanctuary.
“Tsukimi-senpai, your personality is different between day and night. During the day, you’re ‘perfect,’ but at night, you’re a dork. Even if you’re wearing a mask during the day, the difference is so great it’s jarring. Even your skill at board games is like night and day.”
“…So what?”
“I heard you had a sister, and I formed a hypothesis.”
I stated the deduction I had drawn from Kazemiya’s information.
“—Inside you, there is the personality of your now-deceased sister.”
Tsukimi-senpai’s expression clearly changed.
“That mask is a personality that recreates your sister, Tsukimi Sakura. Am I wrong?”
Seeing her stern expression, I felt my deduction was on the mark.
“…You figured it out. How did you find out about my sister?”
“Kazemiya helped me.”
“…I see. So Kanon is on your side, too.”
“Akazawa and Ogino chose to wait for you.”
“A very them-like choice. I suppose Misato just followed Yō-kun’s lead?”
Her guess was correct. There was probably a reason for that which I didn’t know. But right now, continuing my deduction was more important.
“You have a reason you have to keep wearing that mask. Don’t you?”
“…And what reason would that be?” she asked, as if it were someone else’s problem, as if she were testing the accuracy of my reasoning.
“Was it your parents who demanded it of you?”
When I answered, Tsukimi-senpai gave a faint smile.
“—‘Be like Sakura.’ That was my mother’s favorite phrase.”
It seemed my deduction was correct. As if confirming my answers, Tsukimi-senpai began to speak, bit by bit.
“After my sister died, she started saying it a lot more. So I started acting like my sister. Just by doing that, my mother would praise me.”
Outside the secret base, it began to rain.
“Before I knew it, ‘my sister’ was inside of me.”
The rain soon grew heavier.
“I was just as shocked as anyone when my sister died. So maybe I was trying to lessen the damage by convincing myself that she was still alive inside of me.”
She analyzed herself objectively, as if talking about someone else.
“At first, I was happy. Because if I brought out ‘my sister,’ my mother would praise me.”
But that continued for three years. Tsukimi-senpai kept recreating the personality of her deceased sister.
“…And as a result, you started to lose sight of your true self?”
She looked at me, urging me to continue.
In that case, I would trample into her heart with my muddy shoes without hesitation.
“By the time summer vacation ended, you were at your limit, weren’t you? You became afraid that if you kept this up, the personality recreating your dead sister would devour you, and your ‘true self’ would disappear.”
I explained Tsukimi-senpai to Tsukimi-senpai. It was a strange situation, but I was sure it was what she needed right now.
“So you sought a place where you could expose your true self and founded the Alliance, didn’t you?”
“Why didn’t I do that at school, I wonder? It’s not like my mother was watching.”
“Because you yourself wanted to be like your perfect sister,” I said.
A popular girl at school who excelled in academics, sports, and conduct. If someone like that was your older sister, it was only natural to admire her. To wish you could be like her.
‘Studying, sports, my demeanor, everything—I do it like my life depends on it.’
I couldn’t imagine someone could put in that much effort just because of their mother’s words. The pressure from her parent, the shock of her sister’s death, and the admiration she originally had for her sister—I surmised that these factors created another personality within Tsukimi-senpai.
“…So that’s what it is.”
She murmured as if it were someone else’s story. I think she didn’t even understand her own feelings anymore.
“You bound us with the Covenant to protect your secret.”
A covenant to fix our relationships in a shallow, superficial state and stabilize your sanctuary. It was the condition that allowed you to expose yourself without fear.
“Here, you began to remember your original self.”
The Tsukimi-senpai of the night always looked like she was having fun. Her expressions were rich, her personality cheerful and innocent. Her slightly clumsy side was endearing. Her hobby was board games, and she loved chuuni-esque words like ‘alliance’ and ‘secret base.’
—That was the real Tsukimi Kaede.
“My sister taught me how to play board games,” she said, her gaze distant as if recalling that time. “Before I knew it, I was the one who was hooked, and I always made my sister and mother play with me.”
“…You played as a family?”
“Yeah. My sister always won, and my mother and I always lost. But… it was fun.”
For Tsukimi-senpai, board games were probably what connected her family.
“…I can picture it. You made us play almost every day, after all.”
“Thank you. Thanks to you all, I was able to take a breather.”
“You lost almost every time, but was it really a break for you?”
“Board games aren’t about winning or losing. What’s important is having fun together.”
The process is more important than the result, she said.
The Tsukimi-senpai who beat me at Quarto didn’t look like she was having fun at all. She must have been using her brain at full capacity then, focused on the result. The reason was that she had switched to her sister’s personality to win the argument against me.
“—To be ‘perfect’ like my sister, you need overwhelming ability,” she said dispassionately.
It wasn’t enough to just have a personality that was exactly like her sister’s inside of her.
“…So I continued to work my ass off.”
I couldn’t even imagine how much she had to build up to get to where she was now. Especially for someone who used to be called a dork.
“I created this alliance because I was getting a little tired.”
For about two months, she had spent her nights at the secret base. In other words, Tsukimi-senpai had turned the time she had dedicated to effort into a break.
“But the break is over. I have to go back to being ‘my sister’ again.”
I had an idea of what had led to that decision.
“…That was the autumn tournament, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. It made me realize. If I keep this up, my abilities will just keep declining.”
“…Even as you are now, I think your ability as a player is top-tier.”
“My sister aimed for the Inter-High.”
I had heard from Kazemiya that she had been on this school’s girls’ basketball team.
“…She died right before her first tournament, though. My sister was always the type to achieve her goals, no matter what. So I’m sure she would have won. No matter what the team situation was.”
As Tsukimi-senpai spoke dispassionately, she seemed to be blindly worshipping her deceased sister.
“My mother came to cheer for me at the autumn tournament. After we lost, do you know what she said to me?”
I had a feeling I knew.
“…If it were Sakura?”
Hearing my words, Tsukimi-senpai gave a lonely smile.
“…Yeah. I let her down. That’s when I realized. My mother didn’t want me, the dork, to be alive. She wanted my perfect sister.”
I couldn’t say something as careless as “I know how you feel.”
“Tsukimi-senpai, I—”
But I think I could understand her feelings better than anyone else.
“—So, I have no choice but to become ‘my sister.’”
But the next moment, Tsukimi-senpai said something chilling.
“If I have a place for ‘myself,’ I’ll never be able to become ‘my sister.’”
It was warped. As a way for a family to be, it was fundamentally wrong.
“So you’re quitting the Alliance?”
“Yeah. I don’t need it anymore.”
“Then why were you so insistent on the Covenant?”
If she was planning on quitting anyway, she shouldn’t have cared what happened to the Covenant.
“…I don’t know. But you understand how I feel, don’t you?”
“You were scared,” I said.
Tsukimi-senpai blinked.
“Scared that the place you wanted to return to would become a place you didn’t recognize.”
“…I see.”
What a terrible contradiction, she said with a self-deprecating laugh.
Tsukimi-senpai didn’t even realize her own wishes. Because she had been wearing a mask for so long, covering them up.
“You’ve uncovered my secret,” she said with a sigh. “…I feel bad for everyone, but I’m not coming back.”
She nodded at her own words. “But you all can get by without me, right?”
Her smile was empty, dry. She truly believed that. Everything in her environment was telling her so.
That’s why I had to tell her.
“I don’t want you to go.”
“…It’s just a whim. You’ll forget about me soon enough.”
“No, I won’t. Because—”
I trusted Tsukimi-senpai with my heart. My confession of my secret proved that. So she knew that what I was about to say wasn’t just empty words.
“—I LIKE YOU!! As more than a friend!!”
I took a deep breath and declared it with all my might.
“…Huh? Wha- Whaaaat…?!”
I mean, how could I not fall for her? A beautiful older girl who cared so much about me. The benefactor who created a sanctuary for me when I had closed off my heart and was all alone.
Tsukimi-senpai blinked, then became visibly flustered.
“D-Does that mean… not ‘my sister,’ but…”
“Yes! I’m talking to you!”
Honestly, I was desperate. My cheeks were hot. I was sure my face was bright red.
Even so, in the end, I had no choice but to convey these feelings directly. This was the Double Confession Grand Strategy!
“I thought we were supposed to be friends?!”
“What’s wrong with falling for a friend?!”
“You’re just gonna own it?!”
Tsukimi-senpai’s expression shifted rapidly—surprise, embarrassment, a glare. A hundred faces in one.
This was the Tsukimi-senpai I liked.
“From now on, please spend the nights with me!”
I held out my hand to her. The exact opposite of that night when she had invited me.
“Because I think it’ll definitely be more fun if you’re with us.”
“…Don’t use my own lines against me,” she said, glaring at me with a deadpan look.
“I thought this would resonate with you the most.”
After that, Tsukimi-senpai fell silent for a while.
The all-or-nothing Double Confession Grand Strategy. Had it reached her heart?
If even this didn’t work, there was nothing more I could do.
“…If you’re going to go that far,” she eventually said… and took my hand.
I couldn’t help but smile wryly at her reluctant demeanor. It was obviously just to hide her embarrassment.
“So, you’ll come back?”
“…But I have to live up to my mother’s expectations.”
“You’ve been working so hard, doing individual practice and everything, haven’t you?”
“…You think so? Am I still doing my best?”
“The autumn tournament was disappointing, but you got first place on the final exams, right?”
“…Yeah. I studied as much as I lost. I didn’t want to be at home, so I was glued to my desk.”
“That’s not your sister Sakura’s ability. That’s the strength you’ve cultivated yourself.”
She might say, “What do you know?” but this was an objective fact.
“…But my mother says Sakura could do better.”
“Is telling her off not an option?”
The option I presented was to face reality. I couldn’t imagine a good future waiting for her if she kept running away.
“…I can’t. I can’t go against my mother.”
But resignation floated in Tsukimi-senpai’s eyes. She had probably already considered what I said long ago. And because she couldn’t face it, she had cornered herself into a dead end.
“If you can’t find the courage, I’ll go with you.”
Tsukimi-senpai looked up at me, stunned.
“…You’ll be with me?”
“If you’re scared to fight alone.”
“Even though this is… our family’s problem?”
“Just being with you is something I can do.”
Tsukimi-senpai averted her gaze.
“…It’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it? I’m the senior, but I’m always relying on you.”
“That’s not true. You were always supporting us, Senpai.”
I remembered it vividly. The day I ran away from home and fled to the secret base. How Tsukimi-senpai had stayed by my side without a word when I was on the verge of tears.
I don’t know how much that saved me. So now, it was my turn.
I asked her again.
A superficial relationship where we don’t interfere with each other’s secrets.
I wanted her to accept crossing that line.
I wanted her to let me help her, as a friend.
“Tsukimi-senpai, will you think of me as a friend?”
“Then… is it okay if I ask?” she asked, timid and unsure.
“—I want to change.”
Tsukimi-senpai had always chosen stagnation. Both in her relationship with the Alliance and with her parents. But if things stayed as they were, nothing would be resolved.
“So, will you… fight with me… against my mother?”
“Of course.”
If she was afraid of change, I would be her courage.
I puffed out my chest without any basis and slapped it confidently.
“…Thank you.”
Tsukimi-senpai smiled, a single tear rolling down her cheek. The droplet, illuminated by the moonlight, glittered fantastically.
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