18. Only Silence. (Please continue reading!)

“Welcome.”

The handsome young man offered a naturally warm smile. The two adult women who had come to pay blushed faintly, nudging one another, but in the end decided to pay together.

One was buying Shunji Iwai’s “Love Letter,” the other a Major League Baseball magazine featuring Shohei Ohtani on the cover.

Their tastes really couldn’t be more different, he thought.

He took their payment, gave them change, bagged up the books, and added another smile as a bonus.

“Please come again.”

Thanks to his keen hearing, after the two women walked out, he caught snatches of their conversation—words like “So handsome,” “Still just a high schooler, right?” and “I’d love to have my way with him”—followed by the low, stifled laughter unique to adult women sharing risqué jokes.

So that’s how it is. Even with different hobbies, people can always find like-minded friends.

On this early autumn weekend, the handsome boy from Meguro learned another life lesson not found in any textbook.

With the customers gone, the boy in the dark green work apron sat back down in his chair. He was alone in the small bookstore.

Working part-time at a bookstore was mostly a quiet job. If it happened to rain, the stillness was such that time itself seemed to pause—no one came out to buy books, and sometimes two or three hours would slip by in a daydream until closing time.

Today, however, the weather was brilliantly clear. After tidying the shelves and restoring the scattered books to order, Tsukikiyo Jinguuji returned to the register and quietly began reading.

Of course, this wasn’t slacking off; reading during idle hours was permitted by the manager. Playing games on his phone or watching shows, though, was definitely not.

Tsukikiyo Jinguuji turned the pages in silence. He still couldn’t imagine what kind of person would get off to photos of a canal—he concluded that Watanabe was rather neurotic, and probably secretly looked down on daredevils.

The bell above the door chimed. Someone had entered. Tsukikiyo Jinguuji closed his book and greeted, as usual, “Welcome.”

It was a girl about sixteen or seventeen, wearing a white dress with lace trim and a sleeveless denim vest—her whole appearance gave an impression of cool, effortless style.

Yet Tsukikiyo Jinguuji didn’t offer his usual customer-service smile.

“Hello, I’m looking for a book.”

“……”

“Hello? Can you hear me?” The girl reached out and waved her hand in front of his face in a deliberately cute gesture.

Perhaps it wasn’t even deliberate; maybe she hadn’t meant it that way. But in Tsukikiyo Jinguuji’s eyes, her actions did seem a bit affected.

Especially the sly glimmer in her eyes and the generous curve of her chest—these were more than he could handle.

With a sigh, the boy lowered his head, his voice full of resignation.

“How did you find this place?”

“Oh? That’s your first reaction?”

“I don’t know what you were expecting.”

“With your personality, can’t you muster a little interest when a beautiful girl shows up on such a dull weekend? At least give me a lingering, soulful look.”

“And what would that accomplish?” Tsukikiyo Jinguuji sat back down and reopened his book.

Seeing he had no intention of indulging her, Hoshinomori Hoshino kept smiling, her eyes bright as she surveyed the store.

“Hey, Jinguuji, do you have any books by Haruki Murakami here?”

He glanced up at her, mimicking her gesture from before by holding up his own book so she could see the title.

“Fifth shelf from the left, rows four to seven.”

Hoshinomori Hoshino nodded and wandered off, her footsteps light as she explored the shelves.

Three full minutes passed.

From deep among the shelves, her clear voice called out, “I didn’t expect you to be so meticulous about books, Jinguuji. I don’t mind at all.”

At her words, Tsukikiyo Jinguuji finally realized something and turned a page, the rustle of paper drawing a light laugh from the girl.

He pretended to read, but didn’t take in a single word. The pages turned faster and faster.

“Jinguuji, why are you suddenly skimming like that?”

With a crisp snap, he shut the book and exhaled slowly, setting the novel aside.

Clearly, now was not the time to read.

Ordinarily, he didn’t read with customers present, but otherwise his attention would be entirely drawn to Hoshinomori Hoshino—and that, he felt, would be worse.

And the reason for that was nothing more than his own guilty conscience.

When Tsukikiyo Jinguuji remained silent, Hoshinomori Hoshino peeked out from behind a shelf, her slender frame hidden, long blue hair cascading like silk against the books.

“Jinguuji, done slacking off?”

“I wasn’t slacking off.”

“You were reading.”

“I was checking for damage and stains on the merchandise.”

Hoshinomori Hoshino laughed, hands behind her back as she walked toward the register.

“Hey, Jinguuji, want to guess how I found out where you work?”

He looked at her coolly.

“Hasebe-sensei.”

Hoshinomori Hoshino’s eyes widened in surprise. “I thought you’d at least mull it over for ten minutes.”

“I’m not that slow, you know.”

“But now I can’t enjoy watching you squirm. What a pity.”

Why was her weekend so free? Didn’t she used to have all sorts of extracurricular classes?

Hoshinomori Hoshino smiled lightly. “Jinguuji, are you wondering why I’m not off practicing dance or painting today?”

He was taken aback but kept his expression steady, searching her eyes for any hint of testing. He replied coolly, “So the student council president still dances and paints? That certainly fits your image.”

“You didn’t know?”

“Was I supposed to?”

They held each other’s gaze for a while before Hoshinomori Hoshino spun away, intent on hiding her expression, vanishing once again among the shelves as if their conversation had been nothing but his imagination.

“Hey, Jinguuji, could you get ‘Hear the Wind Sing’ for me? I can’t reach it.”

“There’s a step stool.”

“My heels are a little high. I’m scared.”

With no choice, Tsukikiyo Jinguuji stood up and walked over to her.

The chime above the door sounded again. Even before anyone appeared, an exuberant voice filled the small bookstore like a burst of air.

“Tsuki! I came to see you—have you been working hard?”

Sakura Sakurakoji, dressed in casual clothes, entered with a bright smile.

Her gaze swept to the corner, where the blue-haired girl was pointedly standing on tiptoe, arm outstretched, proving she really couldn’t reach the upper shelf.

The smile on Sakura Sakurakoji’s face didn’t disappear, exactly—it just froze, her head turning toward Tsukikiyo Jinguuji while she maintained the same fixed expression.

She said nothing.

There was only silence.