There is always something destined to change in this autumn.

A grand closing ceremony was held in the auditorium, and as the waves of applause faded, the annual Sports Festival of Divine Sakura High officially drew to a close.

Once the ordinary students had all departed and only the student council members remained, they set about clearing the chairs from the auditorium, moving them to an empty classroom.

Carrying chairs in both hands and walking along the school corridor, the usually lively little animal by his side had turned unusually sullen, her head hung low and her spirits dampened.

Rumor had it she’d come in third in the scavenger race and was brooding over her defeat.

Jinguji Tsukiyo, ever adept at consolation, blurted out, “Don’t worry about it—the student council president came in dead last,” only to provoke her further annoyance.

“Senpai, have you never heard this saying?”

“What saying?”

“Don’t compare yourself to those who underperform. Why don’t you compare yourself to those who excel?”

“A sudden shift to the parental tone?!”

Yagami Yo let out a deep sigh.

“Don’t overthink it. Didn’t you shine in the class relay? Isn’t that enough?”

“My original goal was to dominate the entire sports festival.”

“Impressive, impressive,” Jinguji replied, his tone entirely lacking in enthusiasm.

As dusk fell and the sky was awash in crimson, the student council finally finished cleaning the auditorium.

The once bustling campus was now utterly silent, not a soul in sight, like a deserted fairground after the festivities, suffused with a unique sense of solitude and melancholy.

After returning his indoor shoes to the locker, the little animal behind him gave his shoulder a hard slap, leaving him utterly bewildered.

“Ah, Senpai, you always put your right shoe on first. Pfft—”

Truly inexplicable.

But then, the little animal was nothing if not herself; she seemed to have bounced back from her earlier gloom already, and Jinguji Tsukiyo found himself a little envious of her unyielding optimism.

Bathed in September’s golden twilight, Jinguji walked alone toward the school gates. From behind came the urgent patter of running footsteps—Yagami Yo darted past him with a laugh, spinning around to make a mocking face.

“Senpai, your legs are so short—you’re even slower than a turtle, nya-nya-nya—”

She really was insufferable, he thought.

Those quiet moments of leaving school alone, walking the sloping road in silence, listening to the autumn wind, breathing in the scent of fall, his shadow stretching behind him in the sunset—all that seemed irretrievably lost.

At the foot of the slope, he suddenly turned back toward the school gates, his eyes lingering on the sign that read “Sports Festival.” An inexplicable feeling welled up within him.

Did this count as celebrating youth?

Jinguji Tsukiyo wasn’t sure.

Until now, his high school days had passed in solitude, unchanging and uneventful. Now, everything had been thrown into disarray.

He had even held hands with the student council president and dashed for the finish line before the eyes of teachers and students alike—a spectacle, to be sure.

It was obvious that come Monday, people would gossip about it; high schoolers loved nothing more than a juicy rumor.

Did he dislike being caught up in the rhythms set by others?

Even as he put on a forbidding, aloof expression that practically screamed, “Don’t bother with me,” the fact that someone was willing to reach out to him—he found it impossible to resent.

After all, to hate those who offered help—that would be the height of ingratitude.

Even if he were to become a scoundrel, a heartless machine, a shred of innocence still lingered within the boy.

And so, being drawn into the vibrant swirl of youth seemed inevitable.

“Jinguji-senpai?”

“Senpai, what are you daydreaming about?”

“Jinguji, we’re leaving.”

The student council members ahead turned around to look at him. Jinguji Tsukiyo nodded softly.

A brisk autumn wind swept by, swirling up yellowed leaves. On the empty slope, two girls walked ahead, chatting and laughing; between them walked a slight underclassman, and Jinguji Tsukiyo brought up the rear.

The scent of spring’s cherry blossoms was long gone. The sun cast their shadows long behind them, like sea cucumbers clinging side by side to rocks beneath the sea, aging together.

...

At the station, after bidding farewell, Jinguji Tsukiyo boarded the Toyoko Line. Once on the platform, he couldn’t help but look back.

Yagami Yo trailed after him in silence, right on his heels.

Without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed her head.

“Ow, ow, ow—”

“Don’t follow me.”

Releasing his junior’s head, Jinguji mused inwardly at how incredibly satisfying it was to hold. He flicked her forehead with his finger.

“Shouldn’t you be heading home? What are you following me for?”

“Who’s following you! Narcissist! Heartless! Schoolyard violence, sexual harassment!”

Raising his hand again, Jinguji watched as Yagami darted behind the vending machine, peeking out with wide, pitiful eyes.

At that moment, the train arrived. Jinguji looked at her, the two of them locked in a silent standoff.

It wasn’t until the train departed again that Jinguji finally sighed and beckoned to her.

Yagami remained wary, shuffling toward him in small steps, ever alert for schoolyard violence.

“Are you going to the shop?”

She nodded cautiously.

Jinguji pressed his palm to his forehead, studying her for a moment.

“Why didn’t you say so from the start? ...Alright, I was too hasty. I apologize, I’m sorry.”

He realized, deep down, that perhaps he simply liked grabbing her head. The feel of it was just too good.

Still, that was no excuse for bullying his junior, so Jinguji apologized in earnest.

Yagami crossed her arms, closed her eyes, and pouted, a mix of anger and grievance in her little huff.

Seeing this, Jinguji sighed and pointed at the vending machine.

“As a peace offering, let me buy you a drink.”

Yagami sneaked open one eye.

“Anything I want?”

“Anything.”

“Dr Pepper?”

“Sure.”

“Two bottles?”

“As many as you like.”

The little animal broke into a broad smile, accepting the drinks from Jinguji as if all memories of his earlier roughness had vanished.

Yet as she looked at the bottles, she suddenly handed one back to him.

Jinguji stared at her in confusion.

“Since Senpai bought me one last time, it’s my turn to treat you.”

“But I paid for both.”

Yagami snorted, “I paid a price too, didn’t I? Did you really think my head could be squeezed for free?”

“Fine, fine, whatever you say.”

“Hehe…”

She sat on the nearby bench, gleefully twisting the cap open and sipping her drink with noisy delight.

“Ahh—this taste, it soothes the soul.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, you’ve got it backward.”

Yagami pouted. “I’m from Kansai. That’s how people from Kansai say it.”

Jinguji wasn’t so easily fooled. “Nice try.”

“Drat, caught again.” Yagami’s face fell in mock despair.

Watching her, Jinguji suddenly had a revelation.

Perhaps, just as he could easily see through Yagami’s tall tales, Hoshino Morihoshi could see right through his own lies.

“Hey, Yagami, tell me a lie. But make sure I can’t detect it.”

“Huh? What kind of psychological test is this?” Yagami shot him a sidelong glance.

“Don’t ask, just do it.”

She pondered for a while, then declared, “Actually, I keep my chest bound in bandages. My true cup size is D.”

“That’s a lie,” Jinguji answered instantly.

“Yup, that’s a lie.”

Thanks to “Idle Bird, Idle Flower” for the reward.

(End of chapter)