Epilogue

Lunchtime arrived, and I met Ichijou-san on the rooftop. The lock’s broken, so it’s easy to slip inside—a secret only we share. That’s why we can claim this space for ourselves, undisturbed.

The deadline set by the teachers has passed. I wonder how many students stepped forward. It’s hard not to be curious. Maybe no one did. If that’s the case, the teachers will start taking action, and this mess will likely drag on.

I hope this string of incidents ends soon, but it’ll probably leave scars. No matter how carefully the teachers or my friends explain things, some people will never believe them. In their minds, I’ll always be the worst kind of guy—the one who hurt his partner.

The thought weighs on me, casting a shadow.

But then I realized that dwelling on it is almost indulgent. The people who reached out during this bullying ordeal are the ones I can trust for life. Finding such reliable allies in the midst of misfortune is a silver lining, isn’t it? They stood by me, fearless of the consequences, and I want to do the same for them when they’re in need. It might sound presumptuous, but cherishing those who helped me feels only natural.

As for those who twist the truth, it’s better to cut them out. All they offer is malice.

Why waste time on them when I could be with the ones who stood by me through the worst? That’s where my focus belongs.

Just as I reached that resolve, the old door creaked open. Ichijou-san stepped through, and unlike that dark day, the sky was clear and bright. Alone at last, we exchanged smiles, a quiet warmth passing between us.

Yesterday, after her thank-you message for the ramen, we texted back and forth. She offered to make me a bento, so for once, I didn’t bring my own. When I told Mom and Nii-san, they grinned, teasing with, “Ooh, so it’s like that.” and, “Is that so?”

“Here, if you’d like,” she said, offering a bento wrapped in a cute floral pattern. “I hope it suits your taste.”

If I’d opened this in the classroom, rumors would’ve sparked instantly.

“Thanks. As a thank-you, come over for dinner tonight. Mom and the others are going all out—demi-glace hamburgers and cream croquettes.”

“Is that okay? I feel like I’m always being treated.” Her cheeks flushed as she spoke modestly. “And I’m a bit worried whether my bento will suit Senpai’s refined palate.”

Her humility only made her more endearing. Ichijou-san’s skilled at everything, so I couldn’t help but have high expectations. Even if she wasn’t a great cook, that’d just add to her charm. She’s so perfect that a small flaw makes her feel more human—though that’s just a pathetic senpai’s muttering.

At this rate, she might end up tutoring me. I’ve heard teachers whispering that she’s already mastered high school-level English and math. I need to step up my studies too. Lately, thanks to a teacher’s one-on-one lessons, I’ve been grasping classes better.

Lost in thought, I opened the bento box.

“Wow, it looks delicious!”

The words slipped out naturally. The spread was comfortingly homey: perfectly rolled tamagoyaki, grilled salmon, octopus-shaped wieners, simmered pumpkin, stir-fried eggplant and okra, and furikake rice. She’d chosen a bento box one size larger than her own, likely with me in mind.

“You made all this?”

“Yes. I was nervous and woke up early, so I made too much. Usually, I include some pre-made dishes from our helper, but I made about two dishes myself.”

The lineup screamed someone seasoned in the kitchen.

“You even made fish the main dish.”

Since we’ve been eating similar meals lately, she’d likely picked a Japanese-style menu to avoid overlap.

“Yes, since you’ve been eating a lot of meat. Did I get it wrong?”

I shook my head at her concerned glance. “No, the opposite. I love fish too.”

Honestly, sushi’s my favorite. I’m a seafood fanatic, always eagerly awaiting Kitchen Aono’s seasonal kaki fry.

“Good,” she said, her smile radiating genuine relief.

It’s strange. Barely a week since we met, back when we were both drowning in despair on this very rooftop. Now, we’re laughing from the depths of our hearts. That day flipped my life upside down.

Ichijou-san has been my anchor ever since. Sometimes, I worry—have I supported her enough? I still don’t know why she was ready to jump from this rooftop. Her resolve was real; I felt it in the desperate strength of her slender arms as she resisted. Her pain must’ve been immense, beyond my comprehension. But I want to stand by her, even if it’s one step at a time.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

Her voice pulled me from my thoughts. I must’ve worried her.

“Oh, sorry. It looks so good, I was wondering where to start.”

“You’re good at flattery,” she teased.

“Any recommendations?”

“Let’s see. This stir-fried eggplant and okra is my pride and joy. Our helper made it once, and it was so delicious I begged for the recipe. Now I’ve mastered it.”

Her slightly smug expression was age-appropriate, reassuring, and undeniably cute.

“Then, itadakimasu.” I took a bite. “Oh, it’s miso-flavored. Sweet and spicy, perfect with rice.”

The stir-fry, kissed with sesame oil, carried a rich aroma. Seasoned gently with miso, sake, and dashi, it was one of my favorite flavor profiles. Mom and the others would probably say it pairs well with drinks.

“Hehe, nailed it. Good. Since you run a restaurant, Senpai, I thought you eat a lot of Western food, so I went with Japanese this time.”

Her thoughtfulness struck me. Despite her popularity, her strength and kindness—never losing herself—made her truly captivating.

“Yeah, I’m happy. Sometimes I crave hearty Japanese food. The pumpkin’s sweet and fluffy too. Did your helper teach you this one?”

“That one was from my late mom. I’m glad you like it.”

“I see. Then it’s like our kaki fry—that’s Dad’s recipe. Actually, a little secret: mix some powdered cheese into the coating for a richer flavor.”

“Really?! I didn’t know that!”

“Our family’s secret technique. A thank-you for the pumpkin.”

I pressed a finger to my lips, signaling secrecy.

“Then I’ll share one too. This simmered dish has a bit of butter in it.”

“Oh, that’s why the umami’s so deep.”

Sharing these small secrets drew us closer. The delicious bento vanished quickly.

“Did anyone come forward, I wonder?” Ichijou-san mused, her curiosity mirroring mine.

“Who knows. Maybe no one did, surprisingly.”

“That’s possible. People are weak; they tend to want to escape.”

“Right.”

We sighed, but to keep the mood from darkening, we shifted topics.

“Man, I never thought I’d get commended by the fire department.”

I’d only given my name to the nurse, not the police, wanting to avoid a fuss.

“God is watching,” she said warmly. “You’ve been working so hard, Senpai. Acting so quickly in an emergency is amazing. I was shocked, and…”

She hesitated, her cheeks reddening as she fidgeted with her hair, avoiding my gaze. Her voice softened. “You were… really… cool.”

Her embarrassment was infectious.

“Th-thanks,” I mumbled, unable to meet her eyes.

“It starts here,” she said, breaking the happy yet awkward silence.

“Huh?”

“Your reputation’s recovery is beginning. I think things started shifting with that commendation ceremony. People are noticing the oddities in the initial uproar.”

Ichijou-san’s sharp awareness of the school’s atmosphere impressed me.

“I’m still scared, though. That hell won’t change easily, and I keep dwelling on the bad stuff.”

“Senpai…”

“But with you, Ichijou-san, I feel like it’ll be okay. Thanks, always.”

Her expression turned wistful, and she rested her head on my shoulder. “I’m the one who should be thanking you. If possible, I’d be happy if you never let go of my hand.”

Our hands found each other, just like before. I gently squeezed, marveling at her softness. During the commendation, nerves had me gripping without thought; I couldn’t savor it like now.

“My hand’s not too cold, is it?”

“No, it’s cool and feels nice.”

“Really, you. But your hand, Senpai, is big and warm.”

Holding hands felt almost sacred, despite its simplicity.

“By the way, Senpai, how’s the response to the novel you posted yesterday?”

“Oh, right. I saw about ten people read it last night and felt relieved, but I haven’t checked since.”

“Then check the results now!”

“Yeah, I’m curious.”

With my dominant hand clasped in hers, I fumbled with my left to open the submission site on my phone. Still not used to it, I navigated to the workspace and checked the reader count.

“What!?”

The numbers on the screen made me reflexively tighten my grip on her hand.

“What’s wrong?”

Her voice steadied me, and I shared the results. “The page views are at 100,000, the points and bookmarks are insane, and there are over a hundred comments…”

My voice trembled. Neither of us knew much about web novels, but we recognized the magnitude of the response.

“Senpai, these sites have rankings, right? Did you check that?”

Her excitement carried a hint of impatience.

“Not yet.”

“Hurry and look!”

I tapped the daily ranking and found my work instantly. Seeing my pen name on one of the industry’s biggest novel submission sites sent a thrill through me.

“Daily overall number one,” I said, my voice surreal as I relayed the fact to Ichijou-san.

“Amazing!”

Her words came with the warmth of her embrace, her soft skin and sweet scent enveloping me. My heart calmed as I hugged her back, swept up in the moment.

“Thank you.”

No clever words came—just gratitude.

“You’re incredible,” she said, her joy as if it were her own triumph. “To get this much attention in one day, on your first submission! I want to tell the literature club members who threw out your manuscript. They tried to bring down someone this talented… They have no eye for talent…”

I held her tightly as she celebrated for me. “Thank you so much, Ichijou-san. Because you saved my manuscript, because you supported me, so many people read it. I was supposed to be in despair, belittled by so many, but now I’ve been recognized by even more.”

I spoke from the depths of my heart.

She trembled slightly, tears glistening in her eyes, murmuring, “I’m so glad, really glad,” overjoyed for me.

“It’s thanks to you, Ichijou-san.”

I keep saying thank you, I thought, giving a wry smile.

“Thank you. But no, it’s because your novel was great. I was so frustrated that it wasn’t properly appreciated. So, I’m really glad.”

The clear blue sky seemed to embrace us, a stark contrast to that day.

And so, our lives are slowly turning for the better.