Their Sixteenth Year.

After school hours, standing before the shoe lockers, the rain fell in fine threads. Gazing into the umbrella stand, Tsukihi Jinguuji realized the umbrella he’d placed there that morning had inexplicably vanished. He let out a silent sigh.

A miscalculation.

He stood dazed under the eaves, lost in thought, when behind him came the light clack of a girl changing into her loafers, the tips of her shoes tapping gently against the floor.

Turning around, he saw the student council president approaching with a smile.

“Jinguuji, where’s your umbrella?”

“I was just about to bring that up. I think the student council ought to thoroughly investigate whoever’s been taking other people’s umbrellas without permission, and see to it that they’re properly disciplined so they don’t dare do it again.”

Hoshino Morihoshi suppressed a giggle, amusement sparkling at the corner of her eyes, but she put on a serious face and replied, “Understood. I’ll bring it up before I graduate.”

“That’s much too late.”

She burst out laughing. Then, withdrawing a pale green folding umbrella from her bag, she smiled gently. “Well then, Jinguuji, I’m heading off first.”

“Yeah, good work today.”

She opened her umbrella, and her sky-blue hair was gathered beneath it, only the ends swinging back and forth visible as she strode away, dignified and unhurried.

Tsukihi Jinguuji had thought, knowing the president’s usual nature, that she would tease him a little, then mischievously offer to share her umbrella with him to the station.

He wasn’t exactly disappointed—just faintly unsettled by how out of character it seemed.

“Hmm? What’s got you standing in the doorway, senpai?”

Just as he was seriously considering whether to brave the rain home, a small-statured girl came to the shoe lockers, tossing her petite brown loafers onto the floor.

“Hmm? Why haven’t you left yet?”

“The meeting just ended! The culture festival is full of endless chores, meetings every day—I’m at my limit, I swear.”

Yo Himemiya slipped into her loafers, bounced in place a couple of times, then skipped cheerfully over to Tsukihi.

“Huh? Huhhuhhuh, senpai, don’t tell me—you forgot your umbrella?”

“Why is it your tone always manages to irritate me so thoroughly?”

At this, Yo Himemiya instantly retreated a few steps, striking a defensive pose.

“No violence allowed!”

“I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“By the time you do, it’ll be too late! Lately I keep dozing off in class—my head must be busted from all the times you’ve knocked it. If I don’t get first place on the midterms, it’ll be all your fault!”

“Yeah, yeah, you got your laugh in,” he replied, half-hearted.

“Ugh!” she grumbled, unwilling to concede.

After a moment, she looked up at him. Tsukihi simply stood there, lost in thought as he watched the rain.

After a few seconds’ hesitation, she quietly unzipped her bag and took out a folding umbrella, just about to say something to him.

But Tsukihi abruptly stepped forward. The instant his shoe touched the rain-soaked asphalt, droplets splashed and rippled outward.

“I’m heading off. You should get home soon too.”

“Eh?”

Leaving those words behind, he dashed into the rain, leaving his underclassman standing dumbly under the eaves, umbrella in hand.

“Huh? Yo, you haven’t left yet?” came the voices of other students behind her.

“…Yeah, I’m just about to go.”

…

…

When he got home, Tsukihi stripped off his rain-soaked uniform and immediately took a shower.

He was just finishing up, blow-drying his hair in the washroom, when the doorbell rang.

Wiping his damp hair with a towel, he opened the door to find Sakura Sakurakouji standing outside.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“I was in the shower.”

“Come over for dinner later—Aunt Kyoko is here too.”

Tsukihi nodded. “Alright.”

Sakura stepped past him, closing the door behind her, and suddenly wrapped her arms around his waist.

Lately, she’d been growing more and more affectionate like this.

Standing in the entryway, Tsukihi let his childhood friend cling to him, her head burrowing insistently into his chest.

“Mmm… I smell… your body wash. It’s so nice.”

—

“Because I just showered.”

“Hehe, there’s something a little risqué about it.”

“I really don’t get you. Alright, let go—I need to finish drying my hair.”

“Dry your hair?” Sakura lifted her head, running her fingers through his still-damp hair.

“Yeah.”

And so, he was compelled to sit on the couch while Sakura fetched the hair dryer and, standing behind him, began to play with his hair.

“Hey, Miss Sakurakouji, isn’t it usually the other way around with our roles?”

“Then next time, after I shower, you can dry my hair.”

Tsukihi considered this. “Does that mean I have to make house calls?”

“So do I, don’t I?”

“Ugh, what a pain—ouch! Don’t pull.”

“Hmph.”

Only the whirring of the dryer filled the air. Kokoro, disliking the noise, had already scampered off upstairs, leaving the living room to just the two of them.

The dryer ruffled Tsukihi’s white T-shirt, fluttering it and revealing his collarbones; next to one, a small dark mole appeared and disappeared. Mischievously, Sakura reached out and poked it.

At last, the dryer fell silent. Sakura leaned over the back of the couch, her arms draping over his chest, bringing her face close to his ear.

Anyone looking in would surely mistake them for lovers.

No, it was precisely the kind of closeness that only lovers would share.

She blew softly in his ear, her left hand tugging at his collar, fingertip pressing against the mole by his collarbone. Her breath was hot, her voice low and sticky, seeping into his ear like a slick eel:

“Aha, I found your secret.”

“Sakura, you’re getting more and more perverted these days.”

She giggled. “So what? We even bathed together when we were little. If anything, I’m the one who’s lost out.”

“That was ages ago.”

“How should I know? My mom told me about it—I don’t remember a thing.”

Fair enough.

Sakura stayed in that posture, eyes closed. Tsukihi didn’t resist; after a moment’s thought, he spoke.

“Sakura, I have something to tell you.”

“Mmm?”

She kept her eyes shut, her nose nuzzling his earlobe. To Tsukihi, all he heard was the faint, raspy friction.

“It’s about Sasami.”

“Sasami? Oh, you mean Sayaka?”

“More or less,” Tsukihi replied.

“Hmmm…” Sakura pursed her lips.

“What’s with that loaded ‘hmm’?”

“Nothing really. It’s just, you seduced my friend, didn’t you?”

“Could you not put it like that?”

“But it’s true! I even warned Sayaka. Was she coming to confess?”

“Not quite. But if you knew, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Huh? Why would I? What if you went and teased her on purpose?”

Tsukihi really wanted to retort—who’s teasing whom here, honestly—but he swallowed it. He couldn’t fault Sakura’s thinking; back when the system was still around, even if he didn’t want to do such things, he’d have been forced into harassing innocent girls.

“Hey, Tsukihi…”

“Yeah?”

“I thought, at the start of this semester, you’d be chasing after someone again. It’s been twenty days—have you ever been single this long in the past three years?”

“I suppose not,” he admitted.

“Right? Are you really tired of it all?”

“Seems so. Does that bother you?”

“Not at all. It’s just, I can’t quite believe it yet. I keep thinking one day you’ll change completely, become someone I can’t recognize… like back then.”

“…Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not fishing for an apology. It’s just…”

—

“Just what?”

“If you truly have changed, then maybe I can loosen the chains on my heart, cling to you a little more. That’d be alright, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re not clingy enough already?”

“I want it to be like it was before.”

Before…

Tsukihi’s mind wandered briefly to the past.

Sakura’s cheeks flushed pink. She reached out and pinched his cheek.

“No thinking dirty thoughts!”

“I wasn’t thinking anything,” he protested.

“Huh? Why not? You should be! Think about me!”

“…”

…

…

At some point, the rain had stopped. After dinner at the Sakurakouji house, Tsukihi sat on the veranda, gazing up at the lingering clouds. Sakura had curled up in the hanging swing in the garden, hugging her knees.

That swing had been there for years; when they were little, they used to lie in it together, basking in the sun.

Tsukihi idly flipped through a book he carried with him. Sakura shot him a look, grumbling, “Why are you always reading, Tsukihi?”

“Books are good.”

“How so?”

“They keep you company.”

“I don’t get it.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Tsukihi, do you want to be a writer someday?”

“A writer?”

“You know so much, you read so much, and you’re smart.”

“I have no such grand ambitions. I’ve just read a few more books than most.”

“‘A few’ is hardly accurate, is it?”

“Reading and understanding are two different things. Some books, even if you read them ten times over, you still won’t get. When that happens, I curse myself for being such a brainless sixteen-year-old.”

“So how do you understand them?” she asked.

He thought for a moment.

“Maybe when I’m an adult, I’ll understand.”

It dawned on Sakura then that they were still just sixteen, and the boy beside her had even arrived in the world twelve hours after she did.

What should a normal sixteen-year-old be like? There was no set answer, but she sensed that, for both of them, something was missing from their sixteenth year.

“Tsukihi, have you ever regretted anything?”

“Too many things to count.”

“Same here, then.”

“Really?”

“Oh, you’re thinking, ‘Even an airhead like her knows how to regret things,’ aren’t you?”

“Those are your words, not mine.”

“You had that look! You totally looked down on me—I’m so mad at you.”

Tsukihi smiled faintly, then let the smile fade, looking up at the dark clouds overhead. His eyes reflected the same heaviness, and he murmured softly:

“Sis…”

Thank you to “Guan Kan Xian Niao Xian Hua” for the tip.

—

It’s rather embarrassing, but I’d mixed up a supporting character’s name. I’ve corrected the earlier chapters; it shouldn’t affect your reading.

Only about seven thousand characters today, a bit short; I’ll make up for it next chapter.

(End of this chapter)