Sakuraba Ema was still sitting in her seat. Everyone else had already left, the sun was setting at an angle, and not a single ray of sunlight could penetrate the classroom anymore.
She looked out the window, her fingers unconsciously fiddling with her phone; the screen lit up and dimd, lit up and dimd.
Saeki Miria.
Hikigaya's classmate, who claid to be his friend.
"Friend."
Sakuraba Ema whispered the word to herself.
'Could a person like Hachiman Hikigaya actually have friends?'
She thought of the scene from earlier—the way Saeki had turned sideways and rested a hand on the corner of his desk so naturally.
Hikigaya's reaction had been very natural too. Although he still had that lazy look about him, the tone of his voice was different; there was sothing in that word "whatever" that she had never heard before.
What was that thing?
She didn't know.
But she knew that she had never seen that "sothing" in him back in middle school.
Sakuraba Ema lowered her head and looked at the class schedule in her hand.
In truth, there were no printing errors. The columns clearly read "Math," "English," "National Language"—she just wanted to find a reason to talk to him.
The excuse of borrowing a class schedule was too forced; even she knew that. But she couldn't think of any other way. She couldn't exactly just say, "Do you still rember ?" could she?
He clearly didn't rember. If she said it, it would only make the situation more awkward.
So she could only borrow the schedule.
She could only say "thank you" in a small voice.
She could only show him that smile she had practiced countless tis—the one that wouldn't cause trouble for anyone—whenever he looked her way.
Yet, he still didn't seem to recognize her.
Sakuraba Ema folded the schedule neatly and tucked it into her notebook.
He probably really didn't rember anything from their middle school days.
Back then, he had no interest in his surroundings; that seat by the window in the back row was always his alone.
During free activity ti in P.E. class, he was always alone.
During lunch break, he was also always alone, either slumped over his desk or disappearing to who-knows-where.
She had observed him many tis.
It wasn't out of mockery or affection; it was just... she couldn't help but look.
She was afraid of being alone, so she tried desperately to make friends, desperately put on a smile, and tried desperately to make herself look approachable.
But he—he seed not to care at all. Being alone was just being alone; it didn't matter.
She was a little envious of that indifference.
But it was only envy.
Then, that incident happened.
Sakuraba Ema closed her eyes.
She had kept that incident hidden in her heart for nearly two years.
Then, on the first day of high school, when she pushed open the classroom door, she saw that back.
Second row from the back, against the wall. That position, that sitting posture, that back.
Her footsteps faltered at the doorway.
About a third of the class was seated. A few girls in the front were huddled together talking, and a few boys by the back window were discussing sothing. Only he sat there alone, as if separated by so transparent barrier, having nothing to do with the clamor around him.
She stood there, watching him for a few seconds.
Then she took a deep breath and walked in.
The distance from the door to the back row wasn't actually long, but she felt as if she had walked for a very long ti—long enough to practice her prepared opening line three tis in her head.
"Um... is this seat taken?"
She spoke, her voice lighter than she had expected.
He turned his head. When that face ca around, Sakuraba Ema's heart skipped a beat. It was exactly like in her mory: the sowhat ssy hair, the sowhat sharp features—the whole person radiated an aura of "leave alone."
But his eyes...
When those dead-fish eyes looked at her, there was nothing in them.
Like he was looking at a stranger.
"Is soone sitting here?" She pointed to the seat next to him.
He glanced at the empty seat and then withdrew his gaze.
"...No."
His voice was very flat, without any fluctuation.
"Okay, thank you."
She sat down, her movents very light for fear of making a sound, because the person next to her had already slumped over on the desk.
Sakuraba Ema looked at the back of his head, a strange feeling surging in her heart.
He didn't rember.
He really didn't rember.
To him, that incident was probably truly that insignificant—like seeing soone drop sothing on the street, picking it up, and handing it back; it wasn't worth rembering at all.
But to her...
Sakuraba Ema withdrew her gaze and looked down at the desk.
'It's okay' she thought.
'It's okay if he doesn't rember.
The fact that he is here is enough.'
Horoom was about to start. She hesitated for a mont, then reached out and nudged his shoulder.
"Hey~ Wake up~"
He lifted his head, looking dazed, like a cat that had just woken up.
"Thanks." His voice was a bit softer than before.
Then ca the self-introductions.
When it was her turn, she stood up. When introducing her forr middle school, her gaze involuntarily drifted toward him.
He had no reaction, his eyes fixed on the chalkboard as if spacing out.
When she said "make a hundred friends," soone in the classroom laughed. Her face flushed and she sat down quickly, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He still had that sa expression, no change at all.
When it was his turn, he said, "No interests or specialties, and no particular dreams. If I had to say sothing, it's to be able to spend each day in peace."
It was exactly the kind of thing he would say.
The door was pushed open, and a blonde girl walked in and took the seat in front of him, her gaze scanning her intentionally or otherwise.
Then, she learned that blonde girl's na: Saeki Miria. She was Hikigaya's friend, and she called him "Hachiman-kun."
Sakuraba Ema opened her eyes.
The sun had completely set, and the classroom had grown dark. She picked up her bag and sluggishly walked out.
The hallway was empty, only the sound of her footsteps echoing in the air one by one.
When she reached the school gate, cherry blossoms were still drifting, forming a thin layer on the ground. She looked back at the school building.
The windows of Class 1-F were dark; nothing could be seen.
She turned to leave. Cherry blossoms landed on her, but she didn't brush them off.
By the ti she reached ho, it was completely dark, and the streetlights cast a dim, yellow glow.
The street was quiet. She stood at her front door, felt for her keys, and opened the door.
She changed her shoes, greeted her family, walked into her room, put down her bag, and then lay flat on her back on the bed.
Closing her eyes, she thought of Hikigaya's "See you tomorrow."
She turned onto her side, curling into a ball, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly.
"See you tomorrow," she said softly.
Her voice was very light—light enough that only she could hear it.
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