Drowning in Summer

As we approached a hill, the bicycle swayed violently.

Unfamiliar with riding double and having no clue how to keep my balance, I desperately clung to Hikaru's shoulders.

After skipping the opening ceremony and fleeing school, Hikaru's bicycle continued steadily along country roads.

Are you serious about never going back to school?

Yeah.

Hikaru nodded.

After what I did, there's no way I could casually attend school. If I get caught, I'm headed straight to prison, not just juvenile detention.

Hikaru, who claimed to have killed his mother earlier, continued pedaling with an expressionless face.

So I'm running away. At least until this summer ends.

Despite it being late summer, countless cicadas were making their shrill cries. Along the riverside path lay dried-out earthworm carcasses and overturned cicadas.

Summers in the Hokuriku region are surprisingly hot. People often assume it's cool because it's a snowy region, but summer brings a harsh, humid heat, with frequent heat stroke warnings. Being sensitive to heat, I'd once considered moving to some cooler country, but gave up since I couldn't speak English.

After riding along the asphalt road for a while, we got off the bicycle and sat on a bench in the shade. Light filtering through the leaves created small patches of sunshine on the ground. Gazing at the white clouds floating in the deep blue sky, I thought that normally I'd be sitting in an air-conditioned classroom right about now.

I've thought of an interesting game. Want to hear about it?

Tell me.

It's a bit of a strange game. But I think you'll like it, Rin, since you have such morbid tastes.

Hikaru, who knew my tastes so well, spoke with complete confidence.

That's rude.

But internally, I was excited. He never failed to meet my expectations.

However, as I listened to Hikaru explain the details of his game, I could feel the blood gradually draining from my face.

Are you serious about this?

Of course I am.

In this game, seven people would die. And they would die by our hands.

That's insane. There's no way we'd do something like that.

When I refused, Hikaru laughed as if troubled.

This is just a game. You can take it easy.

How could anyone take it easy when lives were at stake? And yet, Hikaru said something so outrageous in such a calm, carefree tone. I was speechless.

Even as we sat there, my eighteenth summer was marching toward its end.

It was late August—one of those days when the temperature climbed past thirty degrees, even in the morning.

I first spoke with Hikaru Natsuno one year and one month ago, during the summer of my second year of high school.

It was the day of the closing ceremony. I’d come to school only to submit my withdrawal form and was wandering aimlessly through the building.

The forecast predicted a high of thirty-five degrees. The sunlight streaming through the windows felt sharp enough to burn skin. Outside, cicadas screamed as if to split the air, while square patches of light stretched across the hallway like glowing stepping stones.

In the quiet school, even the sound of my footsteps echoed. The cicadas’ cries beyond the glass weren’t enough to drown out my presence.

Having left the house for the first time in nearly three months, my stamina was already depleted. I considered staying in the air-conditioned classroom, but the risk of bumping into a classmate who might return unexpectedly was too great.

Even during the closing ceremony, a few people still lingered in the school. When I passed the administrative office, a suspicious-looking staff member peered out through the narrow door gap. Teachers I encountered gave me strained, unreadable looks. It was clear they knew my situation. Their silent pity stung more than any words. I tightened my grip on the withdrawal form.

I wasn’t sure whether the form I’d printed from an online template and filled out myself would actually be accepted. Still, I was confident my determination would come through.

Searching for somewhere quiet, I climbed the stairs and soon reached the fourth floor. The hallway was lined with chemistry and biology labs, along with their prep rooms. With two hours to kill before I planned to slam the paper down on my homeroom teacher’s desk, I chose the chemistry lab closest to the stairwell.

When I opened the door, someone was already inside—a male student, sitting on the windowsill with his legs dangling outside. I recognized him immediately by his wolf-cut hairstyle. No one else in the school had it.

Swaying black strands. Broad shoulders. A dazzling white shirt. His shoes, neatly lined up. This was the fourth floor. One push to his shoulder and he’d plummet straight down.

Natsuno.

He turned to me slowly, as if only now noticing I was there—and smiled, calm and composed.

When I tried to meet his gaze, the sunlight pouring through the window forced me to squint.

That fourth-floor window frame . . . If it had been anyone else sitting there, legs dangling over the edge, I probably would've walked away without saying a word. Even if they’d jumped after I left, I doubt it would've shaken me much. But it wasn’t just anyone. It was him—Hikaru Natsuno—perched in what looked like the perfect place to disappear.

His name slipped out before I even realized it. “Hikaru.” I’ve never been one for formal small talk, especially not with guys from school.

Ah. Yonagi-san, was it?

So he knows who I am. We’d only shared a class for the first ten days of second year, so maybe he’d heard my name, but I didn’t expect him to put my face to that name. Maybe I just stuck in his memory because my old friend had been the loud, flashy type.

Unlike me, though, he stuck to the polite version of my name. I’ve always hated that stiff, respectful tone. But I wasn’t close enough to him to ask for anything more familiar.

Even while we spoke, he didn’t move from that window.

Honestly, I expected more of a reaction. If someone caught me balancing on the edge of the world like that, I’d probably panic. Beg them not to tell anyone. Or just jump the second they said my name.

I especially expected someone like him to hate being seen like this—troubled, exposed, vulnerable. There were people in this world who saw showing weakness as shameful. I was one of them.

Just so you know, this isn't about suicide or anything.

Natsuno spoke as if he could read my mind. But no one without a reason would skip the closing ceremony just to sit in such a dangerous spot. Besides, he looked awful. Gaunt was the only word that fit—his face pale, faint shadows beneath his eyes, and a weak smile that looked almost painful. Behind those dark eyes, so out of place on such a beautiful face, was something I could only read as resignation toward the world.

I was certain that one hundred out of one hundred people would identify him as suicidal just by looking at him. But if he said it wasn’t about that, I guessed I had no choice but to take his word for it.

I understand.

I turned my back to him.

I had neither the right nor the qualification to deny his words. We weren't close enough for me to get angry and tell him not to sit in such a dangerous place.

Just as I took one step out of the chemistry lab into the hallway, from the window . . .

Pfft!

A burst of laughter erupted. It was his, of course.

Seriously? You're just going to walk out normally in this situation?

He, whom I had assumed was suicidal, laughed with genuine amusement. I tried to figure out what could possibly be so funny about this situation, but nothing came to mind.

Show a little concern, would you? I was planning to jump, you know.

Natsuno spun around, jumped down from the windowsill, and landed on the floor. Then, he looked at me with a beautiful smile. The ear cuffs attached to both his ears reflected light, slightly stimulating my eyes.

I thought he’d just said it wasn’t about suicide, but what he really wanted was for me to "read between the lines"—something I wasn’t good at.

You really don’t understand how people feel, do you Rin?

I recalled my former friend who had looked at me with contempt when saying that.

Normally, wouldn't someone who wants to commit suicide resent being stopped?

However, he stopped me from leaving and, surprisingly, asked for my concern. If this was just an attention-seeking stunt, I could understand, but then he wouldn't deliberately choose the closing ceremony time, and besides, he always had plenty of people around him anyway.

Hikaru approached me with light footsteps.

You could at least say "That’s dangerous," since we’re classmates and all.

We're not classmates.

Huh? But we were definitely in the same class—

I'm quitting school.

To me, I was just stating a fact, but he seemed quite shocked. His beautiful eyes widened.

I'm sorry, somehow.

I hadn't done anything that warranted an apology.

You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but why?

Health issues.

I see.

What an annoying guy. If he knew my name and face, he must also know about my school refusal and how my former friends had been badmouthing me. Yet he was looking at me kindly, as if he knew nothing.

Take care of yourself.

I knew this was what people call being considerate, but something about his perfect smile irritated me.

However, I realized something from his attitude. He didn't know about that incident. If he did, he would surely look at me with contempt.

Serina hadn't told him about it.

Since she often talked with Natsuno, I thought she would have mentioned that incident to him too. But thinking about it, she wouldn't tell someone she liked a story that would lower her standing.

Since I was dropping out of school anyway, none of that mattered anymore.

The chemistry lab had no air conditioning. Lukewarm air hung heavy in the room, with only the occasional summer breeze through the open windows offering any relief.

Hey, let's exchange contact info.

Hikaru spoke abruptly.

Huh? Why?

You're not in the class LINE chat either, right? If we don't exchange info now, who knows when we'll see each other again.

I already told you, I'm dropping out of school.

All the more reason, then.

My phone is at home.

A lie. It was right in my pocket.

I had deleted all contacts of people I met in high school. As much as possible, I didn't want to keep anything that would remind me of this school.

Then let's go get it. Right now.

What? You'd really go that far?

I would.

Natsuno gave me a picture-perfect smile. I remembered how the girls in class talked about how his gentle demeanor, so unlike his flashy appearance, created a captivating contrast that made them swoon.

I glared at the boy pulling on my arm and rushing me, wondering what exactly was gentle about this. I could understand his curiosity about a rare dropout student like me, but would anyone normally go this far? Besides, he was . . .

Weren't you planning to die?

Huh?

You were just about to kill yourself, weren't you? If you're planning to die, what's the point of getting a classmate's contact info?

Just moments ago, he had been on the edge of death. Fourth floor window. A fall would probably kill him.

Natsuno's hand released my left arm. He stared at me wide-eyed, looking taken aback, then averted his gaze as if deep in thought.

In that brief, unguarded moment, his mask slipped away, revealing a face with lifeless eyes that seemed to reflect the dark abyss within him. It made me uncomfortable.

I think I'll put that off for a while.

Natsuno said this nonchalantly, then turned his gaze back toward me.

While talking to him, he seemed like an ordinary, good-looking high school student with a gentle demeanor—it was hard to believe he had just attempted suicide. Still, I couldn’t help wondering if that occasional expressionless look of his was a sign of someone who wanted to die.

Let's go then, before the ceremony ends. You can submit your withdrawal form another day, right?

He pointed at the document clutched in my right hand.

After hesitating for a few seconds, I made my decision.

You're right.

I replied, folding my withdrawal form in half and taking my phone out of my pocket.

I'd exchanged contact information with plenty of people before, but most of those interactions never went beyond the initial message.

Nice to meet you!

I thought it would be the same with Natsuno. But contrary to my expectations, we ended up messaging each other often. Part of it was his knack for closing the distance between people, but for someone like me, who didn’t go to school and had plenty of time, our conversations became a quiet kind of pleasure.

It started with us sharing our favorite movies and novels. I was surprised that someone as popular as him read novels at all, but I had to admit that literature wasn't as solitary or highbrow as I’d thought.

Surprisingly, our tastes were quite similar. He was familiar with most of the novels I liked, and many of the movies he enjoyed were ones I'd watched and liked too.

It's cliché, but I really love boy-meets-girl stories. Especially when a man and woman with complicated pasts meet, and there's some incident or crime involved—that makes it even better.

Even though you call it cliché, it's not your typical coming-of-age story. More like something with an epic plot, but where only two people are central to everything.

I love that sense of isolation. Stories that begin and end without anyone else knowing. It’s a common theme, but it reminds me of those summer escape journeys, you know? There's this movie called Summer Hymn that's really good—have you seen it?

Yeah, I have. It's about a middle school student who kills a classmate and then spends summer vacation on the run with a friend, right? The one with those beautiful landscape shots. Though it's a shame that despite the amazing visuals, the script kind of drags in the middle.

I know what you mean. I wonder if they couldn't have worked harder on the structure. If they'd maintained that initial momentum all the way to the end, it would've been perfect. Such a waste given how good the visuals were, especially that climax scene—it was incredibly beautiful. I heard some people criticize the sunset beach scene as too cliché, but still . . .

Visuals are definitely important. I think a solid structure is the bare minimum requirement for a story, and then you need direction and thematic elements on top of that. Otherwise, you end up with either something noisy that doesn't stick in your memory, or a small, underdeveloped story that lacks impact.

And so on.

Everything was communicated through text messages. We never called. Probably because he remembered what I once told him.

I'm not really comfortable with phone calls.

Each time I learned about something he liked, I felt a strange emotion bubble up inside me.

The Hikaru Natsuno likes this?

I felt a strange emotion rise within me. Each time, I seriously wondered if the person sending these messages might actually be someone other than Hikaru Natsuno.

Hikaru's nature was like an omnipotent character from fiction who had somehow leapt straight into the real world.

He had black hair in a wolf cut, with center-parted bangs that framed his face. The style highlighted his well-shaped forehead and defined nose bridge, leaving a strong impression. He wore striking ear cuffs on both ears that gave him a slightly rough edge, but this was balanced perfectly by his naturally gentle demeanor. At our rural prep school, where most students were fairly plain, refined boys like him were a rarity.

On top of his fortunate appearance, he was also near the top of his class academically, naturally residing at the peak of the school's social hierarchy.

A picture-perfect human being. And yet, this same person had been about to jump from a fourth-floor window.

I understand that everyone has their own troubles. Still, I couldn't help thinking what a waste it would be for someone good-looking, smart, and loved by everyone to die—these thoughts coming from me, someone who was liked by no one.

Despite our outwardly contrasting personalities, our similar tastes felt natural in a way. It wasn’t just our shared preferences in movies or novels—we also had a deeper connection in our aesthetic sensibilities and the values we held about the world.

For example, the thunderclouds at the end of summer, quiet beaches at dusk, railway tracks with no trains, weathered bus stops, and abandoned stations. He, too, was deeply drawn to such sentimental atmospheres—those that were beautiful in a melancholic way. To put it in deliberately uncool terms, things that were aesthetic.

Every time I started to think more favorably of him, the memory of what happened in the chemistry lab would cast a shadow over my thoughts.

As we continued to message each other, he dropped the honorifics and began calling me Rin Maybe it was because my name was registered as rin in LINE, but it felt somehow unfair for me to keep calling him Natsuno while he called me by my first name. So, I began calling him Hikaru. He didn’t stop me.

We continued exchanging messages, but around winter, replies from Hikaru suddenly stopped coming.

Have you seen that movie called—

My message still shows as unread, even now.

From then on, for the rest of my life, I never received another message from Hikaru.

◇

The new school year began, and a few weeks had passed since I started spending time in a new classroom. While the students were still tentatively feeling each other out, I sat alone, gazing at the cherry blossom branches outside the window and reminiscing about last summer.

In the end, I didn't drop out of high school.

It was about ten months ago when I blacked out the name field on my withdrawal form with a marker, folded it into a paper airplane, and launched it from a pedestrian bridge. This happened on my way home after parting with Hikaru, following the incident in the chemistry lab.

Don't throw trash on the road!

A man in a tank top yelled at me, and the memory of me freaking out and running down the stairs to escape is still fresh in my mind.

The reason for this decision wasn't Hikaru. Though he was certainly the catalyst, after thinking it over, I realized it would be a waste to drop out of the prep school I'd worked hard to get into just because of petty harassment from classmates. Of course, I couldn't see myself returning to that same class, so I took a year off and decided to return in April as a second-year student again.

The opportunity to see Hikaru again came much sooner than I had expected.

Rin, you're on library duty today.

The glasses-wearing girl who sat in front of me turned around to say this. A sweet scent wafted from her glossy black hair. She'd apparently gotten a straight perm last week.

I forgot.

I knew it! You're so irresponsible when it comes to work, Rin.

Well, committee activities aren't that important, anyway.

Hehe, let's go together after lunch.

Misaki was the only person in the class I could really call a friend.

When I decided to repeat a year and continue as a second-year high school student, I neither expected nor wanted to make friends in my class. My school refusal the previous year had been triggered by being excluded by people I was close to, but I knew it was definitely better to be isolated from the start than to become isolated halfway through. Since I was a year older than my classmates, I figured no one would tease me for being a loner. Besides, I liked being alone anyway.

I liked being with Misaki because it was uncomplicated. She never asked me to go to the bathroom together or expected me to agree with petty gossip.

They recently set up a special classroom next to the library for students who occasionally come to school due to school refusal. Would’ve been nice if that had existed when you were going through it, Rin.

She sometimes said insensitive things, but I tried not to mind since I was sure I did the same to her.

After finishing lunch, Misaki and I headed to the library together.

In the courtyard, visible through the hallway windows, young leaves were already sprouting on the cherry trees. Summer was on its way.

When I glanced at Misaki walking beside me, she was trying to suppress a sleepy yawn. I remembered she'd mentioned her parents would buy her contact lenses if her test results were good.

I caught my reflection in the window glass. If Serina and her friends had seen me then, would they have laughed and said, "You're hanging out with someone like her?"

My first meeting with Misaki was by far the worst among all the first encounters I'd ever experienced. Though I later apologized to her, I still haven't been forgiven for it.

Hey, what's your name?

On the opening ceremony day, while I was fiddling with my smartphone at my desk, unable to fit in with the lively classroom atmosphere, it was Misaki who approached me with those words.

Rin Yonagi.

I'm Misaki Yano. Which class were you in last year, Rin?

Class 2-3. I'm repeating a year.

I expected an awkward silence to follow. I'd done my research online about how classmates treat students who are repeating a year. But she didn't suddenly switch to formal speech or anything like that. Instead, in a languid voice, she just said:

Oh, I seeee.

That was all—she just laughed. What a ditzy girl.

Any clubs?

I'm not in any.

Things you like?

I don't really have things like that.

I tucked a strand of falling hair behind my ear and answered flatly.

It wasn't a lie. I read books and watched movies often, but for someone like me who could only view things in a twisted way, they weren't things I liked but rather tools to find things I liked. If pressed, I might have said I liked a certain movie’s worldview, or a specific line from a novel.

Telling her all this would just make her uncomfortable. The conversation wouldn't go anywhere from there. In the past, I would have made up interests, but I'd decided to stop pretending.

What a boring person I am, I thought to myself.

Most people would probably label me as boring at this point and walk away. It was my first time responding this way to someone I'd just met, but it wasn't hard to imagine how it would end.

I glanced at the girl in front of me. Contrary to my expectations, Misaki was smiling cheerfully.

You didn't have friends, did you, Rin?

Huh?

For high schoolers, not having friends is probably high on the list of things they don't want others to mention. Although I thought I'd accepted my isolation to some extent, being told so directly still caught me by surprise.

What's that supposed to mean?

The words escaped in an involuntarily low voice.

It's just that you don't seem interested in other people. You can't make friends like that, you know.

Misaki said this with that silly grin of hers.

In that moment, the vague sense of discomfort I’d felt about her took on a clear shape.

Her ingratiating smile, the way she looked up at people as if gauging their mood, and her insensitivity—saying something borderline insulting to someone she’d just met. I realized she was the one who didn’t have any friends.

Misaki was a slightly overweight girl with dull black hair. Her cheeks, where they touched the frames of her glasses, shone with oil. No one would want to be friends with someone like that. When Serina approached me in the spring of my first year, it was only because my appearance was deemed worthy enough to have beside her.

Once the thought formed, words came out naturally before my mind could process them.

Unlike you, I had friends, because I look normal.

After the words came out completely, I was consumed by self-loathing, as expected. This habit of judging people by their appearance and looking down on them was something I'd picked up after becoming friends with Serina and her group, and I hated it.

Misaki looked at me, startled.

You shouldn't say things like that.

I'm lying, I'm just kidding. Sorry for saying something weird.

I was about to say that, but stopped myself. I didn't care enough to put on a facade just to be friends with her.

This was the first time such nasty words had slipped out since I'd parted ways with Serina and her group.

I must have been angry, I think.

What Misaki said to me wasn't wrong. I really didn't have friends, and that was my own fault. But that was precisely why I didn't want anyone touching on it—surely that feeling wasn't unreasonable.

I had sacrificed nearly a year to distance myself from unpleasant things, finally achieving a life where I felt secure. I think I felt a strong sense of discomfort when she touched on the very thing I most wanted to keep hidden. How terribly selfish of me.

I'm often called insensitive too.

As I put that thought into words, it hit me.

Misaki Yano was the person most "similar" to me among everyone I'd ever met. She resembled me.

I glanced toward Misaki, who had turned her back to me. Her unruly black hair bounced against the collar of her sailor uniform. Her shoulders looked smaller than they had before.

After the opening ceremony, we were supposed to decide on committee assignments, and I volunteered for the library committee. That kind of gloomy committee suited me. Each class typically sent two representatives.

The other person who volunteered for the library committee was Misaki Yano. Apparently, she didn't hate me after all.

She must have also realized that Rin Yonagi was very "similar" to herself.

My school's library was said to have the largest collection in the prefecture, but the number of visitors didn't match up. During lunch break, the library was terribly deserted, with just a few students studying at the tables, and a few others scattered around who looked like they were on the verge of school refusal. At this college-prep school, students were too busy with English and math prep to have time for literature.

Every book had a barcode attached, ensuring a smooth checkout process. Despite being much better equipped than the small-town library, it felt like a waste that so few people used it.

Have you ever been in love, Rin?

The job of a library committee member was to handle book checkout procedures, but currently there was no one in the library who intended to borrow books. Bored, Misaki suddenly came out with this mysterious question.

No, I haven't. What about you?

I honestly wasn't interested, but I decided to ask anyway. Any conversation was better than an awkward silence.

I had a crush on someone, but got rejected.

Oh? Who was it?

Someone a year above us. We were on the same committee last year.

Misaki shifted her gaze downward as if embarrassed.

His name is Hikaru Natsuno. Do you know him?

Hikaru Natsuno.

The moment that name left her lips, a chilling sensation shot through my core. It was a nostalgic name. Memories of him that had faded suddenly came alive in vivid color. For an instant, I thought I could see the silhouette of a male student sitting on a fourth-floor window.

Yeah, I know him. We were in the same class.

I answered after taking a few seconds to steady my breathing.

He's good-looking, isn't he? He was super popular in previous years too.

I put on an act, pretending to be just another girl who had never spoken to him.

Now that I actually knew Hikaru, openly complimenting him by calling him good-looking felt somewhat embarrassing. Still, most female students probably harbored some admiration for him, since he stood out as exceptionally stylish compared to others. This time, I had no choice.

Did you confess to him?

No, because I heard he got a girlfriend.

What? Really?

A surprised response escaped me involuntarily.

That's unexpected. I didn't picture him as the type to have a girlfriend. Is she a third-year?

No, a second-year student. Momoka from class 4.

Though he was known for his good looks, surprisingly I'd never heard of him having a specific girlfriend. Because of this, all the girls who had feelings for him were desperately trying to appeal to him, thinking they might have a chance. As an outsider, I had been impressed by their self-promotion skills, thinking they would surely come in handy during job hunting.

Hmm, so he likes younger girls.

I muttered this under my breath.

Hm? Did you say something?

Hehe, nothing at all.

I smiled, then averted my gaze from Misaki and rested my chin on my hand.

Well, good for him.

Even though I normally had no interest in other people's happiness, I genuinely felt glad. The boy who once tried to jump from the fourth floor now had enough emotional stability to have a girlfriend. That was something to celebrate.

I wonded if his girlfriend knows that her handsome boyfriend once stood at death's edge.

Sorry, I'm going to the bathroom for a bit.

Misaki left her seat, and suddenly everything grew quiet.

I was a bit uncomfortable with the empty silence that suddenly descended at times like this.

Solitude chosen voluntarily and solitude forced upon you are entirely different things. Until last year, I utterly despised being seen by others during moments like these, but such feelings had long since grown numb. Now, this silence merely felt hollow.

Just as I was about to reach for the novel placed beside me, I heard footsteps approaching the counter. I hurriedly woke up the computer screen.

I'd like to borrow this.

A familiar tenor voice rained down from above me.

I took the paperback by the modern literary author that was handed to me. Then, as if pulled by some gravitational force, I lifted my head to look at the owner of the voice.

It's been a while.

Hikaru Natsuno smiled at me.

Have you been well?

Hikaru's smile was beautiful as he spoke.

I scanned the barcode on the paperback and clicked on the name "Hikaru Natsuno" in the roster on the screen.

During this, I didn't say a word. I found it a bit irritating to give an easy reply to a guy who casually struck up a conversation after ignoring me for nearly half a year.

I decided not to drop out of school.

His voice, which I was hearing for the first time in ten months, was much clearer and softer than I remembered.

As I handed him the paperback, he reached out to take it.

Thank you.

Our hands briefly touched, surely on purpose, but I didn't possess the kind of pure heart that would flutter at such a childish gesture.

Are you mad that I didn't reply to your LINE messages? Sorry, my mom took my phone away.

When I continued to stay silent, Hikaru peered at my face with a troubled expression. I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him.

I'm fine.

After I gave that one-word answer, Hikaru looked at me.

That's good.

His eyes softened gently. Up close like this, I couldn’t help but stare at his perfectly sculpted features, much to my dismay. I found it incredibly uncomfortable. I knew that despite his appearance, this guy enjoyed gloomy movies and literature.

Let's catch up sometime. We could grab some food this weekend.

Believe it or not, I'm actually quite busy.

That's surprising. I thought you spent all day alternating between movies and novels.

His voice carried a sarcastic edge.

I thought we could just use LINE instead. He claimed his phone had been taken away, but hadn't he gotten it back yet? Sure, exams were coming up, but he was still a top student. Having a smartphone shouldn’t be a problem for him.

Getting increasingly annoyed with this, I decided to play my trump card.

Don't you have a girlfriend? Is it okay for you to be going out with another girl?

I heard it from a friend.

Hikaru smiled with excessive delight.

So you made a friend!

That wasn't the point.

Natsuno, you like younger girls, huh.

What's with calling me Natsuno? Call me Hikaru.

That's not important right now.

By girlfriend, do you mean Momoka? I'm not actually dating her, though.

Huh, really?

Yeah. I just stay over at her place sometimes. Her dad's away on a work assignment, and her mom and brother always come home late.

He spoke so casually.

Speechless, I immediately gave him a look like I was staring at garbage.

. . . You scumbag.

I'm offended.

Disgusting, despicable, pervert, enemy of women . . .

Stop, I'm innocent. I haven't done any of what you're thinking, Rin.

Maybe I should tell a teacher.

Please don't. I'm literally just staying over, nothing more than that.

Hikaru continued with an unpleasant smile.

You're good at that, aren't you? Taking words literally.

That was sarcasm just now, wasn't it?

Oh, so you can tell when something's sarcastic.

I opened my mouth to complain, but in the end, I said nothing and kept quiet. Talking with him disrupted my rhythm and made me deeply uncomfortable.