On the way home, the moonlight shimmered in a dreamlike haze.

“You were invited to join the student council?”

On their way home, Sakura Sakurakouji stared in shock at Tsukiyomi Jinguuji walking beside her.

“Well… that’s more or less what happened.”

Jinguuji seemed utterly nonchalant, so much so that Sakura Sakurakouji fell silent for a while.

“So, did you accept?”

“Of course not. I told them I’d think about it and give them an answer on Monday.” The boy yawned, stretching his right arm lazily above his head.

“If you didn’t want to, you could have just refused outright.”

“With the atmosphere at the time? I was lucky to escape in one piece, honestly.”

“Spineless,” the girl pouted.

“Annoying.”

“But the student council… back in middle school, I really admired it. It always seemed like a place where grown-ups belonged. I dreamed about joining one day.”

As her words faded, Sakura Sakurakouji suddenly realized something, clamped her mouth shut, and cautiously studied Jinguuji’s expression.

He quietly lifted his gaze to the sky, his voice unusually gentle. “Yeah, I did too.”

They wandered together through the winding alleys of Jiyugaoka. Perhaps because it was Friday, the nearby boutiques and cake shops bustled with young men and women.

From a distance, the clang of warning bells echoed in their ears. The red light flashed, and the crossing barrier slowly descended.

A hospital advertisement was pasted on the telephone pole by the crossing, and the word “No” on the no-smoking sign had faded so much it looked almost like an encouragement.

During the fifteen seconds the train passed, the boy and girl simply stood side by side, feeling the wind brush their cheeks, silent.

When the train had gone and the barrier lifted, the boy looked at the sunset glowing crimson and, out of nowhere, said, “Hey, Sakura, let me treat you to something.”

“Huh?”

The girl was taken aback, then glanced at the bakery across the crossing, suddenly understanding.

“It’s Friday, after all. No point going home too early.”

“Is this compensation for throwing my milk in the trash this morning?” she asked deliberately.

“You saw that, huh.”

“Well, if you ever dared to drink from my milk, I’d kick you to the moon.”

Jinguuji smiled faintly. “That would be terrifying.”

The short-haired girl grinned. “I want Andersen’s Ugly Duckling cookies.”

“That’s not really the season for those, is it?”

“Then a sandwich, I guess.”

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“Alright, alright.”

“And a walnut cream puff.”

“Okay.”

“And a caramel nut Danish.”

“…You’re just trying to skip dinner, aren’t you?”

“You were the one who offered.”

“Right, right.”

In truth, both of them knew that wasn’t the real reason, but neither said it aloud.

…

…

As night fell, the approaching headlights of a car shone from behind. Jinguuji moved closer to the left, letting Sakura Sakurakouji walk nearer to the wall.

Once the car had passed, Jinguuji returned to his usual distance, as if they were walking through a low limestone cave, echoes bouncing everywhere.

“Hey, Tsuki.”

“Hmm?”

Beside him, Sakura Sakurakouji kept her head lowered, her eyes fixed on her loafers. With each step, her side ponytail swayed gently.

“Tsuki… do you actually want to join the student council?”

“This again?”

“It just feels odd, because you said you’d already broken up with her.”

“Well, there are… certain special circumstances.”

“What kind of circumstances?” Sakura Sakurakouji pressed.

“Uh…”

Of course, Jinguuji couldn’t reveal anything about the system. He fumbled, as if weaving a lie in his belly.

“Everyone at school is talking about you two, guessing whether you’re together.”

“I know. Let them talk. I’m used to it.”

“That’s just like you. But are you sure the student council president won’t mind all these rumors?”

“…”

“She was the girl you used to like, right? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have dated her. Do you still like her now?”

No matter how Jinguuji answered such a complicated question, it would only be a lie.

“I don’t like her.”

He could only lay bare his true feelings.

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“Then why are you doing this?

“Until now, you’ve never kept in touch with any girl you broke up with.

“So why is she the only exception?”

Jinguuji thought, it wasn’t because she was Hoshinomori Hoshino; he simply couldn’t withstand her forceful decisions.

Coming to class, walking to school together in the mornings, joining the student council—all had been her unilateral choices.

What Jinguuji lacked was the resolve to tell her “no.”

He was painfully aware that he couldn’t refuse completely because he’d seen Hoshinomori Hoshino’s tears.

And now, without the system’s compulsion, those words that would wound her had become harder and harder to say.

With the mask stripped away and his shell peeled off, the real Jinguuji was just a coward, afraid to move forward without guidance.

Suddenly, Sakura Sakurakouji stopped in her tracks, lifted her delicate chin slightly, and gazed into Jinguuji’s jet-black eyes.

“Hey, tell me—if I hadn’t happened to catch you and her together that day, would you have told me you two were dating?”

“No.”

Tonight, Jinguuji seemed to forsake the lies of Tokyo, intent on speaking only the truth.

But truth is only truth if it comes from someone who always tells it.

“That’s true. If you had to tell me about every girl you dated, I’d be sick of you by now, haha~”

“Really, why did I have to bump into you at that exact moment? What an idiot I am,” she murmured under her breath.

Jinguuji had no words, only silence.

“Sorry, I think I’ve said too much. After all, I’m just your childhood friend.”

“Sakura…”

“I guess I’m just a little impatient. But I also hope you can understand, Tsuki.

“Understand what sort of feelings I have, after what happened, to keep acting as if nothing’s changed, still being your childhood friend.

“So when I see her appearing so brazenly in front of you at school, that’s why I become like this… so unlike Sakura Sakurakouji.”

The short-haired girl lowered her eyes, her long lashes trembling, and her side ponytail floated gently, like a curved transparent ribbon tinged with sorrow.

The streetlight beside them flickered softly, and the silent shadow of the moon shimmered on the white wall, overlapping and mingling in a haze.

She smiled, scratching her cheek with a finger. If one overlooked what was hidden beneath that smile, she was still as endearing and clumsy as Jinguuji remembered.

“It really feels like you’re drifting farther and farther away from me, Tsuki.”

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