It is not about being close; it is simply about having no concern.

According to Hoshino Morihoshi and Sakuraoji Sakuya, it seemed they had become a special sort of book companions, recommending books to each other and then offering merciless critiques. Honestly, from Tsukimi Jinguuji’s perspective, this was something only close friends would do. Yet, when he imagined the two of them, each with their own opinions about the same book, ending up in a hair-pulling squabble, he couldn’t convince himself that it was something friends ought to do.

When Tsukimi Jinguuji asked about their relationship, however, the two girls answered in perfect unison.

—We’re not particularly close, just indifferent to each other.

That, they claimed, was why they could speak the truth to each other without the slightest reservation. Their theory nearly convinced Tsukimi Jinguuji, but for it to work, both parties had to be self-reflective and willing to accept criticism.

In any case, the boy finally understood why they had decided to meet today.

Sakuraoji Sakuya sipped her concentrated honey drink in small mouthfuls. When it was nearly gone, she shook her cup.

“Tsuki, I want that one—go buy it for me,” she said, pointing at the drink advertised on the signboard above the bar.

“Eh—go get it yourself.”

Sakuya lightly kicked his shoe, then leaned close to whisper in his ear, “Like I’d ever leave you two alone, dream on!”

With a resigned face, the boy had no choice but to go to the bar alone to order for his childhood friend.

Hoshino Morihoshi watched their exchange without a word, her expression unchanged. The boy was not the one her heart yearned for, and the girl was not her rival. She was simply an audience member, watching a film in silence; as for her thoughts about the story, those would come only after the credits rolled and she was home.

“I can see it, you know.”

“What?”

“Jinguuji-kun cares a lot about you, Sakuya,” she said.

“Is that so? I think it’s pretty normal.”

Despite her words, a smug little smile was creeping across Sakuya’s lips.

Morihoshi noticed her pride but chose not to expose it, merely enjoying the sight of a girl lost in the throes of young love—a sight that stirred in her a faint longing for days gone by.

Sakuya, however, felt a little uncomfortable with Morihoshi’s calm demeanor. In her mind, the label “ex-girlfriend who wants to get back together” still clung to Morihoshi.

That’s an enemy, after all.

“Senpai, are you jealous?” she probed.

Morihoshi smiled slightly. “Oh? Should I be?”

Sakuya pursed her lips, trying to decide where to begin, but Morihoshi spoke first.

“Sakuya, do you also think Jinguuji-kun and I are dating?”

“No, I’m not interested in school rumors.”

“Well… if you want to call it dating, I suppose we really did… once?”

At that, Sakuya looked quietly at the beauty who was said to be the most beautiful girl in Meguro, wondering why she spoke so uncertainly.

After saying this, Morihoshi watched Sakuya closely. As she expected, Sakuya didn’t seem surprised at all—clearly, she had known for some time.

Morihoshi’s gaze shifted to the boy at the bar—not with affection, but with a complicated expression that resonated with Sakuya’s own heart.

“Senpai, do you want to get back together with him?” Sakuya asked, feigning indifference as she gripped her empty cup.

“Of course not. I don’t have those feelings for Jinguuji-kun anymore.”

Sakuya tilted her head, struggling to parse the meaning behind those words.

“But you, Sakuya, must have experienced something similar with him—maybe even the same as I did.”

“Huh?”

“I’m a good judge of character. No matter how I look at you two, you’re not just ordinary childhood friends.”

“You can tell that?”

“Jinguuji-kun is hard to read, but you’re easy. You like him very much, don’t you?”

Sakuya snorted. “That’s not it at all.”

Morihoshi smiled gently. “Still, I do envy you a little, Sakuya.”

“Envy me?”

“You know what he likes, what he hates, what he’s good at—isn’t that enough?”

“What kind of talk is that? Senpai, maybe you still like Tsuki…” Sakuya immediately put her guard up.

“Ah, sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. You have nothing to worry about, Sakuya.”

Perhaps Morihoshi was speaking from the heart, but the same words can mean different things to different people. Language is the easiest source of misunderstanding, because it can never perfectly express one’s feelings or fully convey them to another.

To Sakuya, Morihoshi was just as enviable.

Though she had lived beside Tsukimi Jinguuji for more than ten years, the moments when they had truly opened up to each other were all too brief.

Morihoshi, on the other hand, had shared so much time with him—time when they could hug openly, kiss without a care, taste each other’s food without hesitation, touch each other’s necks as if it were natural, and say “I like you” over and over.

Those were the things Sakuya yearned for with the boy.

They were things Morihoshi had already experienced in abundance.

No matter what strangers they might become in the future, his sixteenth year would always be inseparable from the name Hoshino Morihoshi.

How could she not be jealous?

So what if she was his childhood friend? He had still embraced them both, one after the other.

“Senpai, you say you don’t care, but deep down, you must want things to go back to how they were. Otherwise, why invite him to join the student council?”

“Hm… I wonder why myself,” Morihoshi replied, a trace of doubt in her own voice.

Sakuya couldn’t tell whether the girl before her was speaking the truth or not.

“Tsuki really hates trouble, you know. By doing this, you’re only forcing him to compromise again and again.”

“Perhaps.”

“You know what school is like for him.”

“Yes.”

“Then you must realize, all he wants is to quietly stay in his corner. Why drag him out into the open? That’s really selfish of you.”

“Is that truly what you think, Sakuya?”

“What?”

Morihoshi’s calm gaze made Sakuya uncomfortable, as if her innermost thoughts were being laid bare.

“Because, Jinguuji-kun really seems afraid of being alone. He’s frail and insecure, hiding behind thick walls for protection. Seeing him like that, how could I possibly just stand by and not reach out to him?

“As his childhood friend, don’t tell me you never noticed.”

“……”

Seeing Sakuya at a loss for words, Morihoshi understood what the girl was thinking and couldn’t help but sigh.

“As I thought, Sakuya, you really do know him inside and out.”

Stretching her arms overhead in a lazy yawn, she gazed at the boy approaching with drinks in hand. Morihoshi’s smile was serene yet tinged with loneliness, and she whispered softly,

“How wonderful. I wish I could remember, too.

“…I used to have such a good memory, after all.”