This is a Story From a Long Time Ago. ③

On the station platform after school, I was fiddling with my phone, waiting for a certain girl. Looking back, I think I was pretty diligent, standing there without hopping on the passing trains.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

“Yo.”

The person I was waiting for was Kasahara Akari. Ever since that day when we ran into each other after she confessed to Sekine-senpai and got rejected, our strange relationship had continued even into our third year. Believe it or not, I put up quite a bit of resistance at first. I’d spend more time at the gym, head to the station just as the train was about to arrive—stuff like that.

Even asking for her contact info was part of that resistance. I’d tell her I was so pumped for training that it’d run long, so she should head home first. I tried to orchestrate it so she’d leave before me plenty of times.

But in the end, our relationship carried on even after the school year changed. No matter how many times I messaged her to go home first, Kasahara would just send a thumbs-up sticker and stick around at the station anyway. Eventually, I gave in, thinking it wasn’t safe to leave a girl alone at night for too long, and that’s how our routine kept going.

Honestly, what part of hanging out with me felt so comfortable to her? I lost count of how many times I wondered that in disbelief, and I don’t even remember how many times I asked her directly.

I ask her.

“Don’t you have better things to do than wait around for me? Like studying or something?”

The reason my words came out so twisted was, well, that’s just my personality.

Most girls would get fed up with me for saying stuff like that. Or they’d get mad, asking why I had to be so rude, or they’d sulk, or even cry.

But this Kasahara girl? She didn’t get fed up, didn’t get mad, didn’t cry.

She always just laughed, like she was having fun.

“Then how about we study together next time?”

“No way. That’d be inefficient.”

By the time we hit third year, I stopped throwing those twisted questions at her. Unfortunately, my sarcasm didn’t faze her, and if anything, she’d counter it with her own jabs. I just couldn’t keep up.

And so, our relationship went on.

One autumn, one winter, then spring. For all that time, we always went home together.

Oddly enough, despite spending all this time going home together, we never once spoke at school or during the morning commute. Sure, there were rare occasions when our timing aligned and we ended up on the same train in the morning, but at school? We were in the same class, so there should’ve been plenty of chances to talk. Yet we never did.

Considering how casually Kasahara would strike up a conversation with me on the platform or in the train, that felt a little strange when I noticed it.

But maybe that’s exactly why—because we only had about thirty minutes a day to connect—that I didn’t push her away. Maybe that’s why I ended up going along with this routine of going home together for so long.

When did it start?

At first, I did everything I could to avoid her, but at some point, I started looking forward to those moments talking with her.

Fifteen minutes at the shortest, thirty at the longest. A fraction of a day—less than one forty-eighth of twenty-four hours—had somehow become something precious to me.

I even started to hope for our relationship to move forward.

But whenever I thought about that, my twisted personality would trip me up. I didn’t hate this side of myself—if I did, I wouldn’t have kept living this way. But in those moments, I couldn’t help but find it a little bothersome.

There was a part of me that felt cowardly, too.

Above all, she was insanely popular with guys. She had suitors left and right. A plain, unremarkable guy like me could never monopolize someone like her—that’s what I thought.

And back then, our relationship felt comfortable. I’m the kind of person who usually hates stagnation, but at that time, I thought, Maybe it’s fine to just keep things like this.

It was one summer day after school.

At my school, preparations for the cultural festival started right after summer break, with a month of planning before the event. On a swelteringly unbearable day, we were sweating buckets while getting everything ready.

Kasahara and I were chosen as class representatives for the cultural festival committee, so instead of helping with our class’s event, we were stuck handling festival-wide tasks.

By some twist of fate, I got picked as the head of the cultural festival committee. Some clueless teacher let it slip to the underclassmen that I’d scored first in our grade on the final exams, and they hyped me up into the role.

For someone like me, who’s terrible at group activities, being the head of the cultural festival committee was an endless struggle.

Still, I managed to get through it without screwing things up, thanks to the efforts of the other serious committee members and, of course, Kasahara.

I think it was around then that my personality started to feel a bit more… human.

And then, that day after school.

As usual, I was buried in festival prep work when Kasahara came up to me.

“Hey, Yamamoto-kun. Wanna head home together today?”

“Don’t we always go home together?”

“Oh, right. Haha!”

Kasahara was laughing. I couldn’t take my eyes off her smile.

“…I mean, why don’t we walk home from school together for once?”

Even though our schedules sometimes aligned as committee members, we’d still faithfully meet up at the station platform to head home together.

“That okay? Don’t you usually go home with Hayashi or someone?”

“Yeah, their prep’s hitting its peak, so our schedules don’t match up right now.”

“Got it.”

After that little exchange, we waved goodbye to our classmates and the other committee members, and the two of us left school together.

“Good work today.”

“Yeah, good work. Being the head of the cultural festival committee’s tough, huh?”

“Tell me about it. That jerk’s gonna pay for this, I swear.”

“Haha, there you go badmouthing Kakogawa-sensei again.”

Ever since I got roped into being the committee head, I’d been venting to Kasahara about the teacher who’d spilled the beans to the underclassmen whenever I had the chance.

“Looks like the festival’s gonna turn out okay, though.”

“It better, or I’m in trouble. The responsibility’s crushing me—my stomach’s gonna get an ulcer.”

“Since when are you that fragile?”

“Oh, every day’s a battle with anxiety.”

“…Good work.”

Kasahara gave a wry smile.

“Well, to cheer up our dear committee head, wanna hit up a convenience store?”

“…Sure, why not.”

That was the first time I walked home from school with Kasahara.

Honestly, if it had been anyone else, I probably wouldn’t have gone along with it. Back then, my time was the most important thing to me.

“Ahh, it’s so cool in here.”

“Right? Wanna grab some ice cream?”

“Now you’re talking.”

“Cool. My treat.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Aw, come on…”

I glanced at Kasahara, who was pouting, as we headed to the ice cream section.

I wanted to keep things equal with her. Getting treated or treating her would throw off that balance, and I didn’t like that.

We each bought our own ice cream and ate as we walked to the station.

“…You do this a lot?”

“Hm?”

“Like, grabbing snacks with Hayashi or whoever.”

“…Not really, no.”

“Gotcha.”

“Yeah. …That’s why I’m doing it with you, Yamamoto-kun.”

“…Is that so.”

I couldn’t look at Kasahara’s smug smile.

She says stuff like that all the time—things that could be taken the wrong way. It makes me think, just for a second, that I might be misinterpreting her. That maybe it’s not a misunderstanding at all.

…But nah, no way.

Considering how popular Kasahara is, this relationship is already a win. Hoping for anything more is probably asking too much.

I’m not the type to settle for the status quo.

But back then, I was letting my cowardice get the better of me, trying to keep things with Kasahara as they were.

“Hey, Yamamoto-kun?”

She probably saw right through me.

“…So, I got confessed to.”

Yeah, Kasahara had me all figured out.

“It was a younger guy. Said he’s liked me for a while. Totally caught me off guard.”

“…And?”

My voice was probably shaking.

I think Kasahara was waiting for my response.

“What’d you say to him?”

“…What do you think I said?”

Kasahara was smiling, almost seductively.

Is this gonna wrap up in five chapters?

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