Hikigaya put his hands in his pockets and walked slowly.
Dusk was settling in, and the shops lining both sides of the street began to light up.
"If I know, why am I still like this? Is that not allowed?"
He hadn't answered her at the ti.
Hikigaya kicked a small pebble by his foot, watching it roll to the side of the road.
A couple approached from the opposite direction; the woman was leaning on the man's arm, and the two were chatting and laughing. Hikigaya moved closer to the edge of the pavent to let them pass.
He recalled the expression Saeki had when she said those words. Her eyes didn't look like they were expecting a response; it was more like she was stating a decision already made, simply informing him.
That reaction was not what he had expected.
He had said so much—things like "You're making too big a deal out of this" and "I would have done the sa for anyone else."
Logically, a normal person hearing that should have silently distanced themselves, and that would be the end of that.
But she didn't.
According to his usual understanding, the way interpersonal relationships worked was simple: you expose your flaws, the other person retreats; you speak with finality, and the other person leaves.
He had used this set of logic for many years, and it had never failed him.
As he passed the couple, the woman glanced at him. It was a look he knew well—no malice, just a simple desire to have no further interaction.
She quickly withdrew her gaze and continued chatting with her boyfriend.
He reached an intersection. The red light ca on, and he stopped.
An elderly person was standing nearby walking a dog; a Shiba Inu sat at the senior's feet, waiting quietly. The dog looked very gentle, with round eyes.
Looking at that Shiba Inu, Hikigaya suddenly rembered the way Ema laughed—the way her eyes crinkled and revealed that tiny snaggletooth.
He thought back to the things he said in the courtyard. He said the rooftop had always been locked, said she probably rembered wrong, said that person might not exist at all.
Even he knew how harsh those words sounded the mont they left his mouth.
He thought she would get angry, or cry, or turn and leave.
But she didn't.
The last thing she asked was, "Can we still eat lunch together in the future?"
The light turned green. The elderly person led the dog forward, and Hikigaya followed behind.
He began to ponder a question he rarely thought about before.
If they really left, what would happen to him?
He should feel a sense of relief—no longer having to endure those gazes, life returning to exactly how it was before.
Coming alone, going alone, eating alone.
That image appeared in his mind.
Then he realized that he didn't feel as relieved as he had imagined.
At the next intersection, the senior continued straight, while Hikigaya turned in another direction.
There weren't many people on this street. One of the streetlights was broken, making the light a bit dim. On both sides were old apartnt buildings with vines crawling up the walls.
Usually, he wouldn't take this route, but for so reason, he had turned in today.
After walking a few paces, he saw soone standing against the base of a wall not far ahead.
The sound of a spray paint can was exceptionally clear in the quiet street: "Hiss, hiss."
The person stood there with the hood of their sweatshirt pulled over their head. The streetlight only illuminated half of their body, leaving their face hidden in the shadows.
Hikigaya stood there watching for a while.
It wasn't out of curiosity; it was simply that his mind was too full today, and he needed a mont to rest and space out.
"The person standing there."
A voice drifted over.
Hikigaya blanked for a mont; he thought he was standing far enough away.
"Does it look good?"
He glanced at the thing on the wall. It was a balloon, with very simple lines and a slightly lopsided shape, looking as if it were floating in the air yet also as if it were about to pop.
"...It's alright."
The spray can in the person's hand paused for a mont, then continued drawing.
After finishing the final stroke, she turned around.
The light from the streetlight fell upon her face.
Her hair was white, but from the roots to the tips, it shimred with faint traces of pink and blue, like marks of soaked-in pignt.
Her bangs were dyed into several different blocks of color—red, blue, yellow, and green mixed together, covering half of an eyebrow.
There was a pale blue mark on her cheek, likely paint she had just rubbed on.
The most striking feature was her heterochromatic eyes; the right was darker, tinged with a deep red, while the left was lighter, a gradient of blue and yellow.
Combined with the ssy paint stains on her clothes, she looked like she had just stepped out of a canvas.
Yet, this strange attire seed to suit her quite well.
"You're the first one to stop."
"There aren't many people on this road."
"There are people during the day, but they don't stop."
She tilted her head and looked at him, her eyes scanning his face.
"Your eyes," she said, "look like a dead fish."
Hikigaya thought about it.
"It's probably not just the eyes."
She blanked for a mont, then the corners of her mouth twitched. That smile gave her otherwise expressionless face a bit of warmth.
"Noah likes them," she said.
Noah turned back, looking at the graffiti on the wall for a mont.
"This," she pointed to the balloon, "is the last one Noah drew today."
"Mhm."
"Do you believe," she said suddenly, "that so things just float and float until they can't find their string anymore?"
Hikigaya looked at the balloon.
"Then it wasn't tied tight from the beginning."
"Mhm." She nodded and withdrew her gaze. "Noah feels that way too."
She tucked the spray paint into her backpack and zipped it up.
"Noah is leaving."
She started walking forward. As she passed Hikigaya, she stopped.
"Your na?"
"...Hachiman."
"Hachiman." She nodded. "Noah has rembered it.
The next ti you see Noah, you have to say hello, okay?"
Then she left, disappearing around the dim street corner.
Hikigaya stood there, looking at the balloon on the wall.
'What was that all about?'
He shook his head and continued walking forward.
He suddenly rembered what Noah had just said: "So things just float and float until they can't find their string anymore."
Balloons are like that.
He used to think that the space between people was like that too—if you speak with finality and pull away, they naturally float off, disappear, and can never be found again.
But today, soone told him that not all balloons float away.
Saeki and Ema—after hearing those words, neither of them had floated off.
Hikigaya couldn't quite describe the feeling. It was like a formula he had always firmly believed in was suddenly proven not to be the general solution.
By the ti he snapped out of it, that familiar house had appeared ahead.
He realized he had just answered that person's question directly and gave his na. Under normal circumstances, he should have just brushed it off with so nonsense.
But he answered—told the truth, without stalling or making things up.
He didn't know why he answered. Maybe it was because his brain had no leftover energy today to invent a lie.
Or maybe it was just because... answering didn't seem like such a big deal after all.
He walked to his front door. The light in the entryway was on—Komachi had left it for him.
At least Komachi wouldn't float away.
He pulled out his keys and opened the door.
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