Chapter 6 Someday, Before Going Far Away

"...Man, this is heavy."

After parting ways with Kashiwagi-san, I started the trek home, lugging the supplies for the culture festival.

Since the school was already locked up for the day, I had no choice but to take the stuff back with me. As I groaned under the weight pressing down on my arms, I found myself contemplating the sheer difficulty of maintaining one’s "manly pride."

Beat Mizuki, huh?

Kashiwagi-san’s words from earlier echoed in my mind. I never imagined I’d meet a girl who actually thought that way.

Ever since we were kids, Mizuki had always been treated as someone in a "league of her own." She wasn't just a peer; she was a glaring exception to every rule. For the other girls, I think that served as a sort of defense mechanism.

“She’s just special.” By telling themselves that, they could justify the fact that they could never hope to compete with her. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I’m sure everyone in this world finds a way to make peace with their own limitations like that.

But Kashiwagi-san was different. Even while fully understanding the gap between her and Mizuki, she still intended to challenge it.

"—Because if I just run away without doing anything, I know I’ll regret it later."

Those words stung.

...What about me? Ten, twenty years from now, when I look back at my current self... will I have any regrets?

The weight in my hands seemed to pull down just a little harder. Readjusting my grip, I continued through the streets with heavy steps. Then, just as I was passing through the shopping district—

"—Iori-kun?"

A familiar, refined voice called out to me. I turned to see an elegant woman standing there. She was a beauty with a serene aura about her, and the moment I saw her, a flood of memories came rushing back.

"..."

Good memories. Bitter memories.

Her hair was shorter now, and she looked a bit older than I remembered, but I knew her instantly.

"Sensei?" I managed to stammer, my voice thick with shock.

But she simply smiled with that same gentle expression I remembered. "It’s been a while. Have you been doing well?" she asked, her voice unchanged.

This was Miyagawa Tokiko-sensei. My former piano teacher. It had been about a year and a half since we last saw each other.

"It’s been a long time," I replied formally.

I never expected to run into her here. We hadn't crossed paths once since I’d quit the lessons upon graduating middle school.

"Oh, don't be so stiff! It makes me sad," she said, her brow furrowing slightly.

"S-sorry."

At my awkward distance, Sensei let out a small sigh. We had known each other for ten years, starting when I was only five. She was less like a teacher and more like an older sister—or even a second mother. Ours wasn't the kind of relationship that required formalities. Or at least, it shouldn't have been.

...If only I hadn't quit the piano just to satisfy my own selfishness.

"Have you gotten taller?" she asked.

"Do you think so?"

"Yes. You were always a cute boy, but you’ve grown into quite the handsome young man."

Sensei looked genuinely happy as she spoke, leaving me with nothing but a faint, noncommittal smile.

She hadn't changed at all. Beautiful, serene, and kind—exactly as she was back then. Both I... and she used to be so attached to this woman.

"What are you up to, Iori-kun? That looks quite heavy," Tokiko-sensei noted, glancing at the boxes hanging from my hands like a pair of dumbbells.

"The culture festival is coming up soon, so I was out getting supplies," I explained. As soon as I mentioned it, the weight felt twice as heavy, but Sensei’s eyes suddenly lit up.

"A culture festival! How lovely. It sounds so... youthful."

"It’s nothing that impressive. I just figured I should do the bare minimum of my assigned work."

"I see. Heh, as efficiency-minded as ever, I see," she teased with a laugh.

Finally, a real smile touched my lips. I hadn't intended to see her again, but talking like this—just like the old days—brought me a profound sense of relief. If my childhood friend had been here, I'm sure the conversation would have been even livelier.

"Well... I should get going."

I didn't think there was much else to say. But just as I started to turn away—

"Iori-kun."

"Yes?" I turned back.

Tokiko-sensei’s expression had shifted. Her brow was knit with a touch of loneliness.

"—Are you still... playing the piano?"

She spoke with a hint of sorrow in her voice. I looked down, struggling to find the right words. Things weren't like they used to be. I no longer had that burning passion to keep playing just because it made Mizuki happy.

"Every now and then," I lied.

"I see."

Her expression clouded over for a split second. I knew she was remembering the same thing I was. That first competition. That miserable, crushing defeat.

"You really shouldn't neglect it, though. You have to make time to play every day, or your skills will get rusty."

"My skills weren't all that great to begin with," I muttered.

It was probably rude to say that to the person who had taught me, but it was the truth. I didn't have any special talent. I only managed to play as well as I did because she was the one teaching me. That was all.

"Really? I always liked it, you know? Your piano playing."

Even so, she gave me a warm smile. It felt so nostalgic.

"Iori-kun, you’re so good! That last note was beautiful."

She had always been so happy to praise my mediocre playing. If I managed to stick with the piano for ten years, it was undoubtedly thanks to her.

"It wasn't about technique or sense. It was because I could tell how hard you were working... all for the sake of the girl you liked."

"...Please, give me a break," I groaned, burying my face in one hand.

Between Mizuki and this woman, childhood acquaintances really are more trouble than they're worth.

"Come by the classroom and visit sometime, okay? And bring Mizuki-chan with you, of course."

"Uh... sure. Sometime soon."

"Good. I’ll be looking forward to it."

It was a vague answer, but Sensei just smiled without pushing further.

"Iori-kun."

"?"

"The piano... if you ever feel like taking it up seriously again, you can call me anytime."

"..."

With those words, Tokiko-sensei walked away.

She told me to call, but I had no intention of ever playing seriously again. I let out a heavy sigh and, feeling the weight return to my arms, continued my walk home.

◇

"Welcome back."

By the time I made it home, it was past seven o'clock. Mizuki stopped what she was doing in the kitchen and turned toward me.

"Did you carry all that home by yourself?" She tilted her head as she looked at the boxes in my hands.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"You should have just had it delivered to the school."

"Most of it was. I just brought back the stuff we'll need right away."

I dropped the boxes onto the floor with a dull thud. The weight vanished from my arms, and my body suddenly felt light. I exhaled in relief. Of course, I'd have to lug it all to school tomorrow.

...Still.

She isn't asking anything.

I had been bracing myself for her to say something about what happened at the mall. Not that I had anything to hide, or even anything worth talking about. Still, to break the awkward silence, I brought up a different topic.

"...I ran into Tokiko-sensei earlier."

Mizuki’s eyes widened slightly. "Sensei?"

"Yeah."

"I see. That brings back memories."

Mizuki put the plate she had finished drying back on the shelf and turned to me with a small smile.

"Was she doing well?"

"Yeah. She said she wanted us to come by the classroom again."

"Really? We should go see her then. What about you, Iori?"

"I..."

What should I do? Part of me felt like I didn't have the right to show my face there after quitting the way I did. But at the same time, a part of me really wanted to visit that classroom full of memories again.

"Stubborn as always."

"Shut up."

"Sensei really doted on you. She’ll be happy to see you."

"...I know."

I knew that she would just smile and welcome me back as if nothing had happened. Our brief interaction today proved that much.

Mizuki sat down on the sofa next to me. A faint, sweet scent wafted from her.

"I'll go with you."

"..."

I wanted to snap back and ask if she was planning on acting like my guardian, but I figured that would just be digging my own grave, so I kept quiet. I glanced at her profile as she smiled. No matter how many times I saw it, her beauty was almost frightening. She had become even more refined and mature since middle school—even more breathtaking.

What would Sensei say if she saw her now?

She had the kind of beauty that made anyone stop in their tracks, losing their very words. But I bet Sensei would just say:

"Oh my, you’ve become even more of a beauty, Mizuki-chan."

She’d leave it at that. She wouldn't be starstruck or intimidated; she’d just be happy for her, like a mother would for her own daughter. That was just the kind of person she was. That was why Mizuki felt comfortable opening up to her.

"...I guess I should at least show my face."

"Mm-hmm."

And I’ll apologize. I'll tell her I’m sorry for quitting, even though she tried to stop me. I could already see her smiling and saying, "It’s quite alright," and the thought made me let out a self-deprecating chuckle.

—After eating hamburgers for dinner, the night proceeded as usual.

I played the piano instead of studying, while Mizuki sat on the sofa, lost in a book. I still hadn't settled on a piece for the contest. Even so, I kept my fingers moving, trying to bring my muscle memory back to where it used to be.

But even if I get my feel back, it won't matter if I don't pick a song.

I was stuck. I had a few candidates, but none of them felt right. I wasn't willing to settle, either. I was at a total standstill.

"—I should be heading home now."

The voice snapped me out of the whirlpool of my thoughts. I looked over to see Mizuki closing her book and gathering her things. I checked the clock; it was already past ten. This was around the time she usually headed back to the house next door. It was perfectly normal. Nothing out of the ordinary, and yet...

"Mizuki."

For some reason, I called out to her. She turned back in silence.

Why did I stop her?

It had been an impulse. I didn't even know why I'd done it. Mizuki watched me as I stumbled over my words, looking puzzled.

"What is it?"

"No... sorry. It’s nothing."

I shook my head, wondering what on earth I had been planning to say. Mizuki tilted her head. I expected her to leave immediately, but for some reason, she lingered, staring intently at me.

"Iori."

"Yeah?" I replied brusquely.

"—Did Kashiwagi-san confess to you?"

My world stopped with that one sentence.

"...What?"

It took several seconds for the meaning of her words to sink in. It was completely out of the blue, yet she spoke with absolute certainty.

"How... did you...?"

"I can tell just by looking at you."

She said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She was so nonchalant about it that I started to wonder if I was the weird one for being so shaken. But I hadn't told her a thing. Yet her voice was full of conviction. She was simply stating a fact.

I hesitated, wondering how to respond... but eventually, I gave up on trying to hide it.

"...Yeah. She did."

"I see."

Upon my admission, Mizuki nodded without a single change in her expression.

"What are you going to do, Iori?"

"..."

I didn't have to ask what she meant. Would I date her? Would I turn her down? And if I did date her, what would happen to the relationship I had with my childhood friend?

The room went silent. The stillness felt suffocating. Seeing me remain tight-lipped, Mizuki simply said:

"Goodnight, Iori."

She spoke in her usual gentle voice and left the room.

◇

—And then, the following morning.

"...?"

As I woke up and my consciousness slowly sharpened, I felt a strange sense of dissonance. The house was unnervingly quiet. Usually, even from my room on the second floor, I could sense her presence, even if I couldn't hear her.

But today, there was nothing.

The things that should have been there weren't. Driven by that unease, I rolled out of bed. I left my room, hurried down the stairs, and threw open the living room door.

"Mizuki?"

...She wasn't there.

There was no "Good morning, Iori." No savory smell wafting from the kitchen, no rhythmic sound of vegetables being chopped.

The house felt empty. The furniture was in the same place, the spices in the kitchen hadn't moved an inch, but the absence of a single person made the whole place look desolate.

Did she overslept? No, wait...

That wasn't it. I’d never seen her oversleep in my life. Still, just in case, I threw on my tracksuit and headed outside.

Ding-dong.

"..."

I rang the doorbell of the house next door a few times. No one answered. In fact, there wasn't even a hint of a presence inside. It was normal for Mizuki’s parents to be away, so if anyone was there, it should have been her.

"She’s not here..."

Does that mean she already went to school? Without stopping by, without saying a word?

"..."

I pulled out my phone, debating whether to send her a message. But I decided against it. Somehow, I already knew the answer.

So she’s staying away until I give her an answer, huh?

She wanted me to think for myself and make a decision. That had to be it. I put my phone away, exhaled a short breath, and turned my back on Mizuki’s house.

"Yo, Iori. Thanks for the shopping trip."

"Yeah."

When I arrived at school and dropped the heavy bags onto my desk, Renji looked at me with a smirk.

"So, how was it? Your date with Kashiwagi-san."

"It wasn't a date."

"Liar. Something definitely happened. It’s written all over your face."

Renji leaned in close. His words brought back the conversation I’d had with Kashiwagi-san yesterday.

"My answer to the confession... could you wait until after you see me at the Beauty Pageant to decide?"

So, after the contest... Everything on my plate right now was enough to give me an ulcer.

"Hey, Iori. Don't go off into your own little world. We need a status report here."

I made a point of ignoring Renji as he shook my shoulder. Right now, I was more concerned with—

"—Oh, Yukimura-san! About this maid outfit..."

There she was.

She must have been in the restroom; Mizuki entered the classroom and was immediately surrounded by the other girls. I let out a breath of relief. I had considered the possibility that she might skip school entirely, but thankfully it hadn't come to that.

Mizuki was acting as the academy's Madonna, just like always. Her expression was unchanged. She was the perfectly normal "Yukimura Mizuki".

"Hey, don't ignore me, Iorin! Wait, where are you going?"

"Bathroom."

I gave him a brief answer and stood up. Out in the hallway, the decorations for the culture festival were already being put up. Everyone seemed a bit restless, busy but excited.

"Ah, Amano-kun!"

I turned at the sound of my name. A beautiful girl with shoulder-length brown hair was standing there.

"Good morning. You’re late today, aren't you?"

"Morning. Yeah, I overslept a bit."

Kashiwagi-san was holding what looked like a catalog for maid outfits. The cover featured an incredibly frilly, stereotypical maid dress. I couldn't help but stare at it. Wait, are you actually going to wear that?

Kashiwagi-san noticed my gaze and awkwardly looked away.

"Is that the maid outfit selection?"

"Y-yeah... everyone seems to have their own specific preferences."

I glanced into the classroom and heard snippets of conversation like: “Are you really suggesting we put Yukimura-san in something this cheap?!” “I-I know, but the budget...” “Then just take it out of Miyama-kun’s wallet! It was his idea!” “Wait, hold on, that’s not fair?!”

The core members of the festival prep team had to split their energy between the maid cafe and the Beauty Pageant. Kashiwagi-san especially had the contest to worry about. Her schedule must be grueling.

"Doing both at once must be tough."

"Eh? Oh, yeah. The maid cafe part is fine, but... well, the Beauty Pageant part is, you know?"

"I get it..."

I didn't know what she was planning to do for it, but it sounded like progress was slow. Then again, I was in the exact same boat. I hadn't even picked a song yet. I’d practiced in my spare time and gotten some of my feel back, but there were only three weeks left.

Thinking about it now, I was in serious trouble. What was I going to do? At this rate, I was going to crash and burn. Seeing me break out in a cold sweat, Kashiwagi-san tilted her head.

"How are things on your end, Amano-kun?"

"...Honestly? It’s bad."

I didn't even have the energy to try and hide it. When I spoke the truth, Kashiwagi-san’s face twisted in sympathy. I guess my desperate situation really came across. Eventually, she patted my shoulder encouragingly.

"Um, if there's anything I can do to help, just let me know, okay? I might be able to lend a hand."

"Yeah... thanks."

Her kindness really touched me. "See you later," she said as she walked away to join the group currently debating whether the maid outfits should be black or white.

I watched her go and sighed.

"—Did Kashiwagi-san confess to you?"

Yesterday’s conversation replayed in my mind.

—That afternoon, after school.

"Mizuki."

"Yes."

I had sent Mizuki a message on Line, asking her to meet me in a parking lot a short distance from the school. I wasn't sure if she’d come, but the message was marked "read" instantly, and she showed up without a fuss.

【I want to talk after school.】

【Okay. I understand.】

It was as if she knew exactly what I was going to ask. When I told her the time and place, she agreed immediately. Now, facing her in the parking lot as her beautiful black hair fluttered in the breeze, I tried to stay as calm as possible.

"The reason you didn't come this morning... was it because of Kashiwagi-san?"

I didn't even need to ask. There couldn't be any other reason. But when I asked for confirmation, Mizuki simply nodded.

"Yes."

I wasn't surprised. A calm, still feeling washed over me.

"I thought it would be better if I wasn't there."

She spoke with clear eyes. Her tone held no trace of hesitation or loneliness. For a second, the image of that cold, empty room flashed through my mind.

"Just because Kashiwagi-san confessed doesn't mean anything has to change."

The words slipped out of my mouth, even though I knew better. As expected, Mizuki just stared at me. It was as if she could see right through my bravado.

"We can't stay the way we are forever."

With those words, she cut off my escape route.

"Not me. And not you, Iori."

She spoke in that gentle voice she reserved only for me. Her gaze was soft and serene.

"So, you have to make a proper decision, okay?"

I paused for a brief moment before finally nodding. "...Yeah. I know."

Mizuki gave me a small smile in return. Then she turned around and walked back toward the school.

◇

"I-o-ri-kun."

"..."

"Heeey, are you listening? Jeez. He’s dead."

"...What is it?"

After school, I was slumped over my desk until I slowly raised my head. Renji’s face was much closer than I expected, and I instinctively tried to chop him, but he dodged it easily. It was annoying.

"Don't 'what is it' me. Are you feeling sick? School’s over, man."

"I’m fine."

Physically, I was okay. I was just mentally exhausted. Not that Renji would understand if I told him, and honestly, I just wanted to be left alone.

"Good grief. I don't know what’s up with you, but if you’re not sick, come with me. Something interesting is going on."

"Interesting?"

"Yeah, look. Outside the window."

"...?"

Urged on by him, I looked out the window to see a crowd gathered. I thought it might be festival prep, but the atmosphere was different. There were people who looked like professional photographers, people who clearly weren't associated with the school. Students were watching them from a distance.

"What is that?"

"Just come on. You’ll see when we get there."

Renji grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the schoolyard. When we arrived, the place was more crowded than I’d imagined. There were a lot of boys, ranging from freshmen to seniors. Renji kept a grip on my arm as we pushed through the throng toward the front.

And there—

Flash. Flash...!

"Next, look over here, please!"

"Keep the pose! Oh, but if you could smile just a little more...!"

The voices of adults rang out over the excited chatter of the students. All the sound seemed to recede, as if I were looking through a thick sheet of glass. The camera flashes were constant. And there, at the center of it all—

"..."

(...Mizuki.)

Her long black hair swayed in the wind. Her ethereal beauty was like a painting come to life. You didn't have to be a professional photographer to want to capture her in a photo. In fact, students all around were already holding up their phones, while teachers desperately tried to stop them.

"They're taking PR photos for the school," Renji murmured beside me.

"They're going to use them on the website and in pamphlets. I mean, it makes sense that they’d pick her." Renji scratched his head with a wry laugh.

PR photos. In other words, modeling work. Mizuki, who had ignored every scout and shown zero interest in the entertainment industry, was finally doing it.

"Did Yukimura-san agree to this?"

"Hm? Yeah. Apparently, the homeroom teacher and the principal were really persistent about it. I heard a bit about it—she seemed pretty reluctant, though."

"...I see."

I realized she hadn't mentioned it to me at all. At home, she had been her usual self. Did she think it wasn't worth mentioning... or did she intentionally keep it from me?

“She really isn't normal, is she? Yukimura-san.”

“Yeah, she’s too beautiful. I tried to talk to her the other day, but I couldn't even look her in the eye.”

“Wait, has she really never modeled before? Why not?”

The murmurs reached my ears. Voices praising Mizuki, and voices wondering why she had stayed "grounded" for so long. Hearing them, I felt my face tighten.

"In a way, it’s a miracle."

"...?"

"That she’s just been a regular high school student this whole time."

I understood exactly what Renji meant, even if I didn't want to. A miracle. He was right. It was strange that she had ever been confined to a trite title like "Academy Madonna."

Thinking the same thing, Renji let out a sigh.

"But I guess that’s coming to an end. Once she’s in those pamphlets, a lot of people are going to see her."

"...Yeah."

"I knew it would happen eventually, but... I don't know, it feels kind of lonely. Like a favorite idol moving far away."

Renji was laughing, but I couldn't find a single reason to join him. Moving far away. Those words crawled over my skin like venom. I’d known this. Just like Renji said, I knew she would eventually go somewhere far away. Today was just the beginning.

"It happened later than I expected."

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

If anything, the grace period had been too long. I shrugged and turned on my heel.

"Hey, Iori! Where are you going?"

"I’ve seen enough. I’m going home."

Ignoring Renji’s calls, I pushed through the crowd of students and left. There was no point in watching any longer. The day I knew would come had finally arrived. That was all.

Even as I told myself that, something deep in my chest ached.

(—I’m definitely going to regret this.)

If I kept doing nothing, I knew it. I understood that much, whether I wanted to or not.

◇

"...Well then."

After returning home to a quiet living room, I sat before the piano and thought.

The Mr. Contest. A song. Something that stands out.

My mind spun in circles. I kept thinking, hoping it would distract me.

—I didn't want to think about Mizuki right now.

So I focused on the immediate problem of the song... but no matter how much I thought, I couldn't find the right one. But I was running out of time. With only three weeks left, I wasn't even sure if I could finish a song I already knew.

"Oh, dinner."

I looked at the clock and realized that with Mizuki gone, I’d have to prepare my own meals from now on. Not that I couldn't cook, but compared to Mizuki, the difference was like a three-star French restaurant versus a fast-food chain. Well, maybe not that big of a difference.

What do we have?

I went to the fridge and poked around. Pork, chicken, cabbage, lettuce, onions, carrots, spinach... it was well-stocked. I could at least make a stir-fry.

I pulled some ingredients out of the fridge, heated some oil in a pan, and threw in the meat. I made a sauce using yakiniku sauce and chicken bouillon and tossed it all with the chopped vegetables.

A low-effort, high-efficiency meal. I set it on the living room table with some rice. Done.

"Thanks for the food," I muttered to the empty house.

I took a bite of the stir-fry. Yeah, it was decent. Mizuki’s cooking was obviously better, but sometimes these simple, easy meals were good too.

...No.

It’s not just 'sometimes,' is it?

From now on, this might be my new normal. Cooking alone in an empty house, eating alone. No one to make me a warm meal, no one to tell me it was delicious.

The stir-fry suddenly tasted bland. So this is what living alone feels like, I thought, the reality sinking in.

—I wondered what Mizuki was doing. Was she eating alone in that cold house next door?

I reached for my phone on the table but put it back before I could type anything. I couldn't bring myself to say I was lonely.

"...The remote."

I wanted some background noise, so I found the remote and turned on the TV. The first thing that popped up was some crude comedy show. I changed it. A news report about some celebrity's affair. Changed it. A baseball game. Changed it.

And then...

"...Hm?"

A famous Japanese pianist I recognized appeared on the screen. He sat at the piano, placed his fingers on the keys, and they began to move in a fluid motion. It was an intense, yet somehow tragic piece. It was none other than—

""Moonlight", huh?"

Beethoven. Piano Sonata No. 14.

"Moonlight Sonata—3rd Movement."

It was a piece I had a lot of history with—and not in a good way.

How nostalgic.

The fact that I could think that meant the trauma had faded at least a little. Even so, I could still clearly recall the scene from that moment.

"Iori-kun."

"...Sensei."

"It’s okay. You can do this, Iori-kun. Have confidence."

"Yes."

I had studied under Tokiko-sensei for ten years. During that time, she had suggested several competitions, but I had turned them all down.

—As long as Mizuki listens, that’s enough for me.

Back then, those words were the absolute truth. But in my final year...

"Sensei. I think I’ll try a competition."

"What... really?! That’s wonderful! Let’s do it!"

—I had decided to take the plunge.

Sensei had encouraged me many times, but more than that, I wanted to test myself. How far could I go? Could I become "special," just like my childhood friend?

The competition we decided on was a bit ambitious for my level. And the song I chose was—"Moonlight".

Unlike the gentle first and second movements, the third movement was a whirlwind of fast arpeggios, requiring both delicacy and power, as well as immense stamina. It was on a completely different level of difficulty. Still, I’d been playing for ten years. I was confident I could pull it off. Sensei gave me her seal of approval, and I went in fully prepared.

But—

“...!”

My fingers got tangled. The sound cut off, and in my panic, I hit a completely wrong note. My mind went blank. The murmurs of the audience felt unnervingly loud.

My hands stopped. I instinctively looked out at the audience and saw them watching me with skeptical eyes. I saw Sensei’s face go pale. And... I saw the girl who was my first love, just staring at me.

“Ah—”

After that, I couldn't play another note. My one and only attempt at a competition ended in a miserable, pathetic defeat.

"...Phew."

I consciously exhaled to calm myself down. What did I do after that? I shook my head to clear the unpleasant memory. It seemed that day was more traumatic than I had realized.

But... Moonlight, huh?

The option hadn't even crossed my mind until now. I must have been subconsciously suppressing it. Even though there wasn't a piece more impactful for the Mr. Contest than this one.

"—I think it wouldn't be a bad idea to give it your all just once."

The manager's words came back to me.

If I can finally play it all the way through this time...

Would something change? I let out a self-deprecating laugh at such uncharacteristic thoughts. It had been a year and a half since I stepped away from the piano. Even though I’d played occasionally, my skills had obviously dulled since middle school. And even when I was at my peak, I had failed like that. Could I really make it in time if I started practicing now?

My logic was telling me it was impossible. But...

"—In a way, it’s a miracle. That she’s just been a regular high school student this whole time."

I was running out of time. I didn't need Renji to tell me that. Whether I was going to give up or settle my lingering regrets, this was my last chance.

"Yeah... if this is the end anyway."

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to try one more time. If I fail again, I’ll give up on everything. But if I can overcome this trauma...

(Well, it’s going to be tough, obviously.)

I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I scrolled through my contacts for the number I’d been avoiding for so long and, steeling myself, pressed the call button.

"—Sensei? Yes, it’s Iori. Um, I have a favor to ask..."

I’ll do what I can. With that resolve in my heart, I decided to give everything I had for the next three weeks.