92. Brighter than the sunlight.

The school bell tolled promptly, signaling dismissal. By this time, only the student council members remained on campus; the usual bustling club activities were nowhere to be seen.

Tsukiko Jingūji left alongside the other council members, following the familiar slope filled with the chatter and laughter of girls. At the station, she parted ways with two others and boarded the train to Jiyūgaoka with Yō Hitsuya.

She was heading to work today.

Seated inside the swaying train, Tsukiko quietly flipped through the book in her hands. The younger girl beside her clutched her school bag like a little red bear clutching a honey jar, obediently sitting close by.

The train rocked back and forth, and with each jolt, Yō’s small frame bumped against Tsukiko’s arm. Unlike when alone with Sakurakōji Sayaka, Tsukiko made no effort to care for this little creature.

With a mischievous move, she shifted away, causing Yō to topple onto the hard seat with a sharp “thwack.”

A cry of pain followed, and the girl rubbed her head with teary eyes, glaring resentfully at the boy beside her.

“Oh, you’re awake now,” he said.

“Damn you!”

Tsukiko closed her book and tapped Yō’s head. “If that proud brain of yours got scrambled, you might not get first place in the midterms.”

The little one pouted immediately. “Senpai, you’re so mean.”

“That’s because you’re careless, dozing off on the train—you should watch out for perverts.”

“I’m not bragging, but in my fifteen years, I’ve never encountered anything like that on a train.”

Tsukiko glanced compassionately at her fragile, petite frame.

“Anyway, don’t lose heart.”

“I’m going to tell the president about you, Senpai. You always bully me secretly when she’s not around.”

“You’re wrong about that.”

“How so?”

Tsukiko rudely ruffled her hair. “Even when the president’s here, I still bully you.”

“Darn it!”

When the train stopped, Yō immediately slipped away from Tsukiko’s side and dashed out of the station, seemingly trying to put distance between them.

Watching her retreating figure, just as Tsukiko turned to go the other way, the small silhouette suddenly returned.

She unzipped her bag, rummaged silently inside, then wordlessly took something out and stuffed it into Tsukiko’s arms.

The boy looked at the palm-sized gift box in his hands, puzzled.

The tiny girl slung her backpack behind her like a heavy suit of armor and brushed her hair slightly.

“What’s this?” Tsukiko asked.

“Well… it’s a souvenir from the school trip. Yamada and I chipped in together.”

“For me?”

“Unlike you, Senpai, I’m a good kid who repays kindness.”

“The president already got her gift before you even entered the student council room,” she added.

Tsukiko nodded. “That’s exactly it. Consider it a token of thanks for taking good care of you.”

“You should be saying that. It feels weird coming from you, but yeah, that’s the idea.”

“I see. Thanks, Yō. I’ll message Yamada later to thank him too.”

“Huh?”

“What is it?”

“I thought you’d say something insincere again.”

“Huh?”

“Hehe! No good deed goes unpunished—I refuse to accept it! …Something like that.”

Tsukiko sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead, almost forgetting that Yō was exactly that kind of person. She felt foolish for being a bit touched for a moment.

“I won’t say something so embarrassing. And refusing a junior’s souvenir from a school trip? That’s just awful.”

Yō chuckled softly.

“Anyway, I gratefully accept it. Thank you.”

“Oh, just be sure to thank me in your heart, and don’t hit my head again.”

“That’s still up for debate.”

“Darn it!”

Tsukiko smiled faintly.

“Oh no, my work shift is about to start. If I’m late, Auntie will scold me. I’m off now, Senpai, bye!”

“Run slower.”

“I know, I know~”

Though she said that, her legs didn’t slow down at all. Her backpack bounced on her back as she vanished into the crowd.

Watching her finally disappear, the boy stood still, shaking his head helplessly.

He then looked down at the souvenir in his hand, still puzzled why it was chicken wing rice crackers tucked inside the bag.

…

The next morning, Tsukiko sat at the entrance of her home, changing shoes before stepping outside, waiting as usual for her childhood friend to come out and walk to school together.

But today, for some reason, Sakurakōji Sayaka hadn’t appeared. Tsukiko sent her a message, which remained unread.

Puzzled but aware of the weekly uniform inspection at the school gate, Tsukiko sent another message before heading to school alone.

This week, she was partnered with Hoshino Morihino. Because of the first-year school trip last week, this pair had now worked together for two consecutive weeks.

Normally, Yamada Kanade and Yō Hitsuya would take the inspection duty this week. But with midterms approaching, both were studying diligently. Tsukiko and Hoshino volunteered to cover the inspection to let them focus.

—Taking care of juniors is the duty of seniors.

For Hoshino, this was a natural truth. But from Tsukiko’s perspective, it was somewhat unusual, though not unwelcome.

He sensed that the boy’s temperament was subtly changing without him realizing.

“Jingūji, you don’t have to push yourself. Midterm results are important for you too,” Hoshino suddenly said beside him.

Tsukiko looked puzzled.

“You might not know this, but nearly every student council president at Kamizakura High has received guaranteed admission offers from prestigious universities nationwide. Even if a desired school doesn’t extend an offer, the school gladly writes recommendation letters.”

“Of course, there are strict conditions: you must be the student council president, and your exam scores throughout the three years must always be in the top three of your grade.”

“So, being student council president is regarded as the pinnacle for the smartest students in the school.”

This was the first time Tsukiko had heard such a topic.

“The president is the one who should be… Since grades are so important, is it really okay to be so careless about this midterm?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve already secured my recommendation.”

“And I don’t plan to get anything less than first place.”

“Such confidence,” Tsukiko sighed.

“Yeah, because I’ve put in the effort every day. As long as I stay calm and take care of my health, I can’t get anything but first.”

A confident woman was truly admirable. Tsukiko almost applauded her.

After all, his own top spot was only thanks to his photographic memory.

“I’m more worried about you, Jingūji,” Hoshino said.

“Me?”

“This midterm is important for you too, especially if you want to walk the same path as me.”

“If I don’t get into university, becoming a mechanic in Hokkaido wouldn’t be bad.”

“Why Hokkaido?” Hoshino looked puzzled.

“Shouldn’t you first ask why a mechanic?”

“I’m not interested in judging others’ dreams. Being a mechanic isn’t bad—it’s manly. I think it’s cool.”

Damn… she was good with words.

Tsukiko shook his head and silently stepped away.

“But with your grades, it’s probably overthinking. Even Tokyo University or Kyoto University should be within reach.”

“My mom told me not to try for Tokyo University.”

“Why?”

“She said it’s hard to find a partner.”

Hoshino was momentarily stunned, then thought for a moment before nodding.

“I see.”

Tsukiko was shocked. “You understand?”

“What’s so hard about it?”

He waited a long while but Hoshino didn’t explain further.

“Though with your personality, I think you’ll mostly likely choose Waseda.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you like Murakami?” she said.

“I’m not so foolish as to apply to a university just for that reason.”

Hoshino smiled kindly. “By the way, the voice actor I like graduated from Waseda, so for a time I admired it and even considered applying.”

Tsukiko couldn’t understand why anyone would graduate from Waseda only to become a voice actor.

In his mind, having a good starting point meant choosing an easier job, not competing with ordinary people.

“Still haven’t found it?” Hoshino suddenly asked.

“What?”

Tsukiko thought for a bit and guessed she meant about goals or dreams.

Perhaps it was because he had no dreams that his perspective was so narrow.

“Not yet.”

Hoshino nodded gently. “No rush.”

Tsukiko recalled the dream she once shared, which he found incomprehensible and could not believe she would become a voice actor.

She should be doing something that truly showcased her talents—joining a top company, becoming a workplace elite, or a bank employee climbing the ranks and managing billions in investments.

In short, Hoshino should be shining in an elite, unreachable field, a unique leader.

At least, she shouldn’t be a voice actor, a trivial figure.

“I think someone like the president should have greater expectations for herself.”

Weak or insecure people often want capable ones to bear more responsibilities, as if seeing someone strive would inspire them to act.

Hoshino smiled and glanced at Tsukiko, then stopped a first-year boy and directed him to fix his tie.

Afterward, she returned to Tsukiko and continued.

“Jingūji, are your expectations of me too high?”

“Huh?”

“I’m just an ordinary high school girl. Don’t expect great things from me—I can’t meet them.”

“How could that be…”

“Sure, at school, I might be the admired student council president, the best student in teachers’ eyes.”

“But in the future, once I take off this uniform, I’ll just be a slightly clever woman.”

“And that ‘future’ is only a few months away.”

“Hey, Jingūji, do you understand what the word ‘woman’ means in this island nation of monks?”

Tsukiko fell silent.

Hoshino took a deep breath, her face devoid of gloom, always brighter than the sun with a radiant smile.

“I want to go somewhere broader—farther than a country, farther than the world, farther than the universe.”

“At least after seeing such sights, I’ll be willing to accept my fate.”

“Then, even if I have to work as a cashier, a part-timer, fry fries at McDonald’s, or hand out flyers dressed as a maid in Akihabara, I can face my life calmly.”

“At least I will have chosen.”

Tsukiko stared blankly, meeting the girl’s unwavering eyes, inexplicably believing her words.

She was truly different. While most peers mindlessly celebrated that damned youth day after day, and while he was still trapped in past loves, lost without dreams or direction,

this person had already stepped onto a path different from theirs—far ahead.

“The president really is a strange person,” Tsukiko murmured, lowering his head.

“That’s mean! Girls want to be called pretty or cute, not strange.”

“It’s only because I’m your senior that I tolerate your rudeness. Other girls wouldn’t put up with it, except for Sakurakōji.”

Hearing Sakurakōji Sayaka’s name, Tsukiko suddenly remembered he still hadn’t seen her.

He had been watching the school gate carefully; if she had come to school, he would have seen her.

And there were only five minutes left before the gate closed.

Tsukiko guessed that Sayaka was lingering at the dessert shop by the station, or standing beneath the bare cherry blossom tree, secretly nibbling freshly baked bread—then dashing in at the last second, like a web novelist rushing to update at 11:59 p.m.

But when the metal gate clanged shut,

Sakurakōji Sayaka still hadn’t appeared.

(End of chapter)