I Wish I Had Never Written This Novel

I'm scared of the ceiling at night.

It happened one night during our seaside school trip in the fifth grade.

Tsumugi, who had chronic asthma and was physically frail, couldn’t join the daytime hike and ended up crying alone.

I just happened to be there. We weren’t even close friends, but I couldn’t leave her like that. So I snuck her outside without telling the teacher.

As a result, just as her teacher and parents had feared, Tsumugi was bedridden with an asthma attack and a fever.

Late that night, when I secretly went to check on her in the separate room, Tsumugi murmured as if letting something slip.

I'm scared of the ceiling at night.

Why?

When I asked, Tsumugi, still wrapped in her futon, answered in a fever-dazed voice.

Because the night ceiling is pitch black—you can't see anything—and it's like there's this huge hole. When I have a fever, my body feels floaty, like I might fall right through. It's scary.

There was a weight to her fear that was different from when young children instinctively call darkness scary, something that couldn't be easily dismissed.

It's okay. You won't fall.

All I could offer were such ordinary words, and Tsumugi let out a soft sniffle.

I know. But I'm still scared. When I'm all alone in the pitch dark, it feels like I’m drifting away from the world. Because I don’t have anything to anchor me.

Her voice held an earnest pain that seeped through from the depths of her soul, like slowly pulling a thorn from deep within one's chest.

This was the first time I had been exposed Tsumugi’s raw emotions—far too much for me to contain—yet somehow it wasn't unpleasant at all.

Tsumugi was often sick and absent from school. Even when she came, she never joined gym class or events, always sitting quietly alone in a corner. When spoken to, she would offer a faint smile and gently turn people away. I think she did this to avoid being a burden to others.

She couldn't do things that came naturally to other healthy children. There was something about her that suggested she believed her very presence would force those around her to endure hardship.

That's exactly why I was so happy that she showed me her inner feelings, even if it was just a small fraction.

It felt like she was telling me I wasn’t one of the people she kept politely at arm’s length—I was someone special.

So I wished I could offer even a little comfort to Tsumugi, who was so afraid of the dark ceiling.

Hey, can you get up?

Huh? Okay.

I felt around in Tsumugi’s futon until I found her hand and pulled it. She let out a confused little sound, but still sat up on wobbly legs.

I led her by the hand, feeling my way through the dark.

Eventually, my outstretched hand touched the soft fabric of a curtain. I gathered it in and yanked it open, letting faint light spill into the room.

The window rattled open, and the cold night air brushed my cheek. Beside me, Tsumugi stirred ever so slightly.

Oh . . .

Tsumugi let out a soft breath and rested her hand on the window frame, gazing intently at the view before her.

Beyond the glass, sky and sea blurred together in a bottomless black, so deep it felt like you could sink into it forever. It looked just like the night ceiling Tsumugi feared.

But unlike the ceiling, this darkness glittered with countless stars.

Each star in the pitch-black sky was small, but its light reached all the way down to the ocean’s surface, gently illuminating us as we hovered on the edge of darkness.

Beautiful . . .

Tsumugi gazed up at the night sky, utterly transfixed, as if both her eyes and heart had been stolen.

I watched her profile in silence.

Bathed in pale starlight, Tsumugi’s profile looked almost translucent—pure, untouched by the world. Something achingly precious, almost sacred.

I gave our joined hands a gentle squeeze, and Tsumugi turned to me.

I wanted to comfort her, but the words wouldn’t come. All I could manage was a single line.

Let's look at the night sky like this together again sometime.

The night sky isn't just pitch black.

And Tsumugi isn't all alone.

I wanted to convey such things through my clumsy words.

Tsumugi looked at the starry night sky, at our joined hands, and finally, she gazed directly at my face.

Then she smiled gently, as if her worries had melted away. The stars reflected in her eyes looked like a tiny specimen that had captured the entire night sky.

Even after I led her back to her futon, Tsumugi wouldn’t let go of my hand. So I had no choice but to sleep beside her.

Every time Tsumugi rolled over, she would pull the blanket with her.

Hey, I’m getting cold here.

I grumbled while pulling it back, and after going back and forth a few times, we giggled together.

What if I end up getting a fever too?

Then I'll hold your hand next time.

Like an infinite loop.

When I said that teasingly, Tsumugi looked at me with fever-bright, glistening eyes.

Then we could be together forever.

Huh?

I couldn’t help but laugh at Tsumugi’s dramatic words, but she was looking at me with a deeply serious gaze.

Will you . . . stay with me forever—right beside me?

Her hand clung to me even more weakly than before, like a lost child, and my heart skipped a beat.

A hot, damp, very small hand.

I was the only one who could anchor this hand. That’s what my heartbeat seemed to tell me.

Yeah, forever.

Urged on by my heartbeat, I answered, and Tsumugi sweetly followed up with another question, like a spoiled child.

For eternity?

Yeah. For eternity.

Wanting to reassure Tsumugi, even just a little, I made a careless promise.

It was a childish promise.

Yet it was a promise that truly connected us.

That was back when we innocently believed in things like eternity.

1

After school, as I checked the notes I'd taken in class, a cherry blossom petal fluttered down through the wide-open classroom window. The cherry trees in the courtyard have already lost their blooms—so where did it come from?

The petal fell onto the notebook that was filled with colorful, dancing letters. After observing it and thinking for a moment, I tucked it inside and closed the page.

I thought I’d share this little remnant of spring with Tsumugi in her sterile hospital room—but then a shadow fell across my desk.

Looking up, I saw a girl from my class standing there with an expression like she wanted to say something.

Hey, what's up?

As I asked while putting my notebook in my bag, she answered with a good-natured smile.

Um, you haven't joined any clubs yet, right?

Uh, yeah.

It had been nearly two months since I started high school. The trial period was long over, and most first-years had already joined clubs. But I hadn’t joined any—not because I hadn’t gotten around to it, but because I never intended to.

Even my parents, who were busy with work and left most things to my own initiative, had expressed concern.

You didn’t do any clubs or lessons in middle school either. Are you really okay with not doing anything in high school too?

They worried a little, but it didn’t change my mind.

For me, my daily after-school time was occupied by something much more important than club activities.

So, um, would you consider joining the literature club? We’re still short on new members. I’ve seen you reading a lot during breaks.

Something stirred faintly in a corner of my heart at the mention of literature club, but I pretended not to notice.

Oh, I see. But sorry, I'm a bit busy after school. I'm not planning to join any clubs.

When I said that, she nodded disappointedly, her hands still clasped together as if in prayer.

I see . . . Sorry for asking so suddenly. But are you really that busy?

Not busy, exactly, but I have to visit someone at the hospital.

As I answered, I glanced at the empty seat at the back of the classroom that was Tsumugi’s seat while she was in the hospital. She seemed to take it in.

Oh.

She let out a sound of understanding.

Are you visiting Tsumugi? You two are pretty close, huh?

Yeah. We've been together since elementary school.

Wow . . . But Tsumugi’s barely been to school since we started, right? It’s a heart condition, yeah? Is it really that bad?

She asked with a worried look on her kind, good-natured face.

I couldn’t come up with a good answer, so I just smiled vaguely.

Well, she can’t come to school, but she seems to be in pretty good spirits.

As I said this, I slung my bag over my shoulder and stood up.

Well, I should get going.

Oh, sorry for keeping you. Tell Tsumugi to take care.

Sure. And sorry I couldn't help you out.

We waved goodbye and I left the classroom.

Walking through the after-school hallway, I could hear the distant calls of sports clubs through the windows.

That vibrant and lively commotion—something Tsumugi and I would never be a part of—made my chest ache just a little.

Tsumugi was staying at the hospital about a ten-minute walk from school.

Tsumugi had suffered from asthma since childhood and had always been frail. In the fall of her second year of middle school, she was diagnosed with a heart condition—one that was extremely difficult to treat. For a while her condition stabilized and she was discharged, but less than a month after entering high school this spring, it worsened, and she was hospitalized again.

As long as she didn’t push herself, her condition remained relatively stable, so she wasn’t bedridden. When I visit her, she's energetic enough to voice her complaints.

This long hospital stay is so boring.

She was at least energetic enough to make complaints like that.

But that was just on the surface. Her condition wasn’t as mild as it appeared.

Originally, when the disease was discovered, she was told she had two years to live without treatment. Since then, she’s continued treatment to slow its progression, but ultimately, they said she’d need a heart transplant—and even that wouldn’t guarantee a cure.

Tsumugi went through a period of darkness and turmoil because of those facts, but lately, she’s become much more composed.

I don't think her anxiety and fear about the disease have disappeared. She's just gotten better at hiding those negative emotions.

That's why I try not to treat her like she's too fragile. I feel like I shouldn't deliberately bring attention to emotions she's trying to keep hidden.

Both Tsumugi and I keep so many things buried below the surface, yet on the outside, we quietly go on peacefully weaving our days together.

And today, as always, I stopped in front of the hospital room door with the nameplate labeled Tsumugi Higa, took a deep breath, consciously put on my usual smile, and pulled the door handle.

There was the sterile white bed, and Tsumugi’s slender back sitting on it.

It’s a scene I’ve grown completely used to, but the anxiety I feel each time never fades. I guess it probably never will.

Trying to shake that off that feeling, I called out with extra cheer.

Hey Tsumugi, I'm here!

At my call, her slender shoulders—wrapped in a simple shirt-style nightgown—jumped slightly as she turned around. Her long hair, reaching to about her waist, swayed lazily with the motion.

Oh, you came again today. Are you bored or something, Shiori?

Tsumugi narrowed her eyes in a teasing smile, and I responded while settling into the chair by her bed.

I went out of my way to come here, and that’s what you say? That's harsh!

You know, I mean, a high school girl going to the hospital every single day—isn't that a bit unhealthy?

Are you waiting for me to point out the irony?

I shot her a deadpan look at the completely hypocritical comment.

Besides, you'd sulk if I didn't come visit.

Well, yeah, that’s true.

Not even going to deny it, huh . . .

Tsumugi tilted her head with an innocent look, as if she were saying, Well, obviously! She’s cute—but somehow really irritating. So does she want me here or not?

It’s just, hospitals are so boring. All I can do is read, and I finish books so fast.

Tsumugi said in an exasperated tone while pointing to the pile of books stacked on the bedside table.

Tsumugi’s always been an avid reader—and she reads so fast, I wonder if she’s really reading that carefully. Sometimes I think she should just read more slowly since she’s got so much time anyway.

I’ve heard that about a hundred times already.

When I pointed this out while placing the notebook from my bag on the desk, Tsumugi poutily puffed out her cheeks.

I’m going to keep saying it forever and ever—so you’d better get used to it!

Fine, then I won’t come visit anymore.

Or so you say, but you’ll still come visit me tomorrow like the loyal buddy you are, right Shiori?

Gazing at me with that mischievous upward glance, I couldn't help but laugh.

Ahaha!! Yeah, yeah. You know, I got asked to join a club again today, but I turned them down—said I had to come visit you.

I accidentally let slip something I hadn't meant to say and hurriedly clamped my mouth shut.

Oh? What club?

But Tsumugi continued the conversation as if nothing was wrong, so I had no choice but to answer.

Literature club. And their reason for inviting me was because you read a lot. Isn't that a bit shallow?

I tried to brush it off casually, but Tsumugi nodded with a serious expression.

Literature club sounds good. You like books, Shiori.

I only read books because of your influence, Tsumugi.

Even as I said this, I realized that bringing up clubs had been a mistake. I could tell what Tsumugi was going to say next.

Even if I influenced you to start reading, that’s not the only reason, right?

Tsumugi spoke gently, almost as if giving kind advice. Her eyes narrowed as though recalling something fondly from the past.

I mean, you used to write novels, didn't you?

Those words sent ripples through the same part of my heart that had stirred when I was invited to the literature club.

As Tsumugi said, I had written novels. Back in eighth grade.

But that was all in the past now. Something I'd tried to forget, buried deep in my memory.

Yeah, I did, but I quit. You know, one of those embarrassing old memories.

I managed to settle the unrest in my chest and forced a weak smile.

Tsumugi probably understood that I was trying to deflect with humor.

Hey, Shiori. You don't have to come visit every day, you know? If there's something you want to do, don't worry about me.

But you just said earlier that you'd sulk if I didn't come visit.

I gave a childish retort to Tsumugi, who was smiling with a somewhat mature expression.

Sure, I'd be happy if you came to see me, but it's wrong to tie you down like this, isn't it?

Well, I'm not forcing myself or anything. I visit because I want to. I don't really have anything else I want to do anyway.

When I said that—half cutting the conversation off—Tsumugi looked a little sad for a moment.

I see.

After nodding slightly, she suddenly changed and flashed a mischievous smile, tilting her head at a calculated angle.

If Shiori wants to come see me that badly, then I guess it can’t be helped?

Wha . . . ?

At her teasing smile and words, I felt my face grow warm. It made it sound like I was desperate to see her.

Flustered and embarrassed, I turned away—only to see Tsumugi grinning even wider at the edge of my vision.

While I was still recovering from the emotional hit, Tsumugi kept going with a smile.

But I’m glad. That means while you don’t have anything else to do, you’ll help me out, right? Because I just so happen to have a favor to ask.

Hold on, isn’t that a bit of a leap? Visiting you and granting wishes are not the same thing, you know?

Though I protested, sensing that Tsumugi was somehow trying to steer the conversation in her favor.

Or so you say, but you end up listening to me anyway, don't you, Shiori?

Tsumugi gave me one of those slightly annoying upward glances.

Wait, I'm not falling for that trick anymore!

I'm not that easy to manipulate, or so I thought, returning her look with a cool gaze. But Tsumugi maintained a nonchalant expression.

And I was so close . . .

She showed no remorse. She really has some nerve . . .

I was exasperated by Tsumugi's incredibly selfish attitude, but hey, this is nothing new.

While Tsumugi keeps her distance from others, she acts like a princess around me. Her use of the word request is one example of this. Despite its seemingly cute nuance, the actual task is usually quite troublesome, bordering on what most people would call being selfish.

Once she starts using that word, I'm usually left with no other option than going along with her request.

I think if I seriously shook my head and said no, Tsumugi would give up. But what's terrifying about Tsumugi is her exquisite way of drawing people in. It's like a wary cat that only shows its vulnerable underside to you—knowing I'll get caught up in her trap. I end up feeling comfortable and going along with her plan.

So . . .

Hey, Shiori, you really won't listen to my request?

When she speaks to me in a voice that's testing me, like a spoiled little girl—I have no choice but to surrender.

Well, if it's something I can do, I might consider it.

Even at my vague response I know basically that I am already hooked. Tsumugi smiles at me sweetly.

What I want to ask is . . .

Just as Tsumugi was speaking, the wind suddenly flowed in through the gap of the window that had been left open for fresh air. It stirred Tsumugi's hair which was hanging loosely as well as turning the pages of the notebook placed on a nearby table.

The pale cherry blossom petal that was tucked in the notebook floated in the air a while and landed on the white hospital room floor.

I want to fall in love.

I'm left speechless by Tsumugi, who tells me this with the same nonchalant lightness as the flower petal dancing in the wind.

It was so sudden, so straighforward.

I want you to help me with that, Shiori.

As I look upon Tsumugi offering a shy, faint smile, I think . . .

Here's yet another remnant of spring.

2

Tsumugi wanted a change of scenery, so we headed to the hospital courtyard.

I thought it was awfully carefree of her to make such a shocking confession. But when Tsumugi gets an idea, there's no stopping her. I reluctantly followed her as she left the room humming . . . But suddenly . . .

Hey, Shiori, let's take a break for a sec . . . ?

Oh no, you're actually feeling worse now . . .

After walking just a few dozen meters down the hallway from the room, Tsumugi leaned against the wall and crouched down. She starter fanning her collar.

Ugh, I feel so tired.

She groaned. Her lack of stamina was truly saddening . . .

Tsumugi, you haven't been exercising at all, have you?

But I was told to avoid exercise.

They meant intense stuff like sports. You should move around a bit as long as it's not too much of a strain, okay? Like walking.

Ew, walking is for old ladies.

You could learn something from how active those old ladies are, no?

Ugh . . . Shiori's being really harsh today . . . Spoil me a little.

I pulled the complaining Tsumugi to her feet, but she flopped against my shoulder like some kind of soft-bodied creature.

I'm tired already. Shiori. Piggyback!

Why should I? You're the one who said you wanted to go outside. Walk properly.

Can't do it. Piggyback!

Are you seriously throwing a tantrum?

I knew from experience that arguing with Tsumugi when she goes into tantrum mode is pointless, so I quickly gave up resistance.

Fine, whatever . . . Come on, get on.

Yes, my humble servant . . .

That's kind of irritating!

I crouched down and lifted Tsumugi onto my back, then stood. My body, having braced for a certain weight, wobbled slightly, thrown off by how much lighter she was than I’d expected.

Tsumugi must have misunderstood and thought I was staggering from her weight.

Don't you dare say I'm heavy, okay?

She directed the kind of indignation a typical girl her age would say.

Her legs in my arms were terribly thin—so thin they seemed like they might snap if I put any pressure on them. At this point, no matter how weak I might be, I couldn't possibly complain about her being heavy.

You're not heavy at all.

Good then.

Satisfied with my response, Tsumugi relaxed and leaned into me. Her cheek rested against my shoulder, and her faint breathing brushed against my neck.

I felt an inexplicably wistful feeling well up inside me. And to shake it off, I broke into a run down the hallway.

Whoa, what? Why are you running?

Just felt like it?

What kind of answer is that? That's so dumb.

Urged on by Tsumugi's giggling behind me, I ran. I wanted to leave all my anxiety and melancholy behind, wishing I could just keep running like this forever.

Breathing hard, I turned the corner and reached the elevator hall.

Then, we were interrupted.

Please don't run in the hallways.

A nurse walking toward us from the other direction scolded us with a straight face.

Sorry . . .

Hey, this girl just started running on her own!

Are you seriously betraying me?!

It's not betrayal when it's the truth.

You didn't stop me, so you're just as guilty!

Please be more careful from now on.

The nurse maintained the same serious expression as she addressed both Tsumugi, who was cleverly trying to escape blame, and me, who wanted to drag her down with me.

After watching the stern nurse's back as she walked away, both Tsumugi and I let out big sighs. The unintentionally synchronized timing made us look at each other and burst out laughing.

Getting scolded for running in the hallway—we're like elementary school kids, aren't we? But seriously, why did you suddenly start running?

I mean, I just felt like it . . .

What does suddenly felt like running even mean? Is it because you're young?

I don't really understand it myself.

Ahaha, you really are an idiot!

Who are you calling an idiot?

I put on a grumpy face to show my displeasure at being called an idiot. But even after we got in the elevator, I could hear her laughter from behind me, and I eventually couldn't help but laugh too.

After both of us finally stopped laughing, we reached the courtyard.

When we stepped outside the building, the spring breeze gently caressed our skin through our uniforms.

After walking for a while, I set Tsumugi down on a bench in the shade of the trees.

Well, that was a good laugh!

When Tsumugi sat on the bench, she let out a satisfied sigh. A glimpse of her pale stomach peeked out from the hem of her sleepwear.

See? You said being hospitalized was boring, so I went out of my way to provide some entertainment for you.

Well that's totally a lie!

Yeah, well . . .

As I sat down beside Tsumugi, I glanced sideways at her face. Now that things had calmed down, I found myself even more uncertain about how to bring up the continuation of our earlier conversation in the hospital room.

I want to fall in love.

Those words from Tsumugi echoed in my mind.

What on earth was that about . . . ?

So, about that I want to fall in love thing I mentioned earlier . . .

After we'd both fallen silent for a while, Tsumugi spoke up with a deliberately bright voice, as if starting fresh.

Yeah.

As I braced myself for whatever she would say next . . .

Now then, here's a quiz! What kind of love am I looking for?

Huh? All of a sudden?

She gave me a quiz out of nowhere. What kind of love . . . ? What does that even mean?

Thrown off by the sudden curveball, my brain started racing—romantic love, puppy love, . . . foodie love? What was she thinking?

Okay, thirty seconds left.

What, there's a time limit . . . ?

My confusion accelerated as Tsumugi marked the time with her finger like a second hand. Tick-tock-tick-tock.

Any hints?

The hint is: it's the kind of love that's perfect for someone who's currently hospitalized.

I have absolutely no idea . . .

Time's up!

That was way too fast!

She definitely didn't wait a full thirty seconds. What was the point of a time limit anyway?

Maintaining that mysterious energy, Tsumugi did a terrible rendition of a drumroll before announcing the answer.

The answer is—a sick girl meets the male protagonist, and he’s drawn to her brave, delicate way of fighting her harsh fate. She's a little mysterious, but her innocent smile is adorable, so the boy keeps visiting her and the girl falls for him too. And they get permission to go out together. When her condition gets worse and she's feeling down, the boy comforts her. Toward the end, they sneak out of the hospital to go look at stars by the ocean at night, but . . .

That's way too long. You're really going all out here!

I'd planned to listen to the whole thing, but this was far too long to sit through.

In the end, the girl dies. It's a tragic love story.

The ending is totally rushed!

When I slumped my shoulders at the suddenly half-hearted conclusion, Tsumugi burst into giggles.

Well, I was joking around a bit just now. But don't you find that kind of terminal illness romance appealing?

Huh? Not at all.

Wow, your face says zero empathy . . .

With an annoyed expression saying Shiori just doesn't get it, Tsumugi pulled out a paperback book from the small pouch she'd brought with her and held it out to me.

When I took it and read the synopsis on the back, it described a story about a sick girl and boy who meet and fall in love . . . basically following the same plot Tsumugi had just described.

I see. So you were influenced by this kind of novel when you were talking about love?

Tsumugi always complains about how tedious hospital life is, so it’s natural she’d look for something to keep from getting bored out of her mind. Besides, Tsumugi was a teenage girl—it wouldn't be strange for her to want a romance or two. I was surprised since she'd never brought up anything like that before.

I returned the book to Tsumugi and was starting to understand the situation.

Yeah, but when I said I want to fall in love, that might have been a bit misleading.

Her hair swayed gently as she tilted her head in thought. Catching a glimpse of her pale nape through that glossy black hair made my heart skip a beat.

Misleading?

Yeah, I think it's not just that I want to fall in love—I want to leave behind a feeling of love that lingers in someone's heart. Like the heroine in this novel—for eternity.

Watching her thin, perfectly shaped lips form the words for eternity, I felt something deep in my chest give a sharp little cry.

Eternity.

It was, strangely enough, the same word from the promise we had made when we were children.

Of course, the meaning behind this eternity sounded completely different from our promise back then. Somehow, it felt like Tsumugi was getting ready to go somewhere far away.

I still remembered the warmth of our clasped hands that night, the feeling of our fingers loosely intertwined.

But Tsumugi had already let go of that childish promise and was seeking to find immortality in something else.

That might have been what made me feel so terribly lonely.

I smiled wryly to myself at the sudden surge of childish sentimentality. How long was I going to cling to some verbal promise from when we were little?

Tsumugi and I were both in high school now. It would be better for us to forget about empty old promises and throw our attention to romance, or something else.

I switched my focus back and listened to Tsumugi's story again.

I mean, since I'm hospitalized anyway, I think I'd make a great terminal illness heroine. I hate to say it myself, but don't you think I'm perfect for an ill-fated heroine? I mean look—I'm the picture of purity.

. . .

The moment I gave her my full attention, the conversation had taken a bizarre turn.

Um, what's with that is this girl stupid look?

Good . . . you noticed.

I don't wear flashy makeup or fashion, and I have long black hair, right? That's pure, isn't it?

Well, as long as you don't open your mouth . . .

Huh? No way!

Tsumugi had been expressing her purity by spreading both arms wide, but she looked genuinely shocked by my comment. Had being seen as pure really been such a core part of her identity?

She was in deep thought for a while.

I need a self-branding strategy . . .

She muttered things like that under her breath, so I pointed out something that I had suddenly realized.

Listen, I get that you're yearning to be a terminal illness heroine, but you can't have a novel-like romance—or any romance at all—without a partner, can you?

At my words, Tsumugi stopped her ominous muttering and smiled meaningfully.

Oh, that's fine. Besides you, there's another person who will be helping us.

Huh?

I let out a dumbfounded sound at her answer. Just then,Tsumugi's phone buzzed inside her pouch.

Oh, looks like they've just arrived.

While I still couldn't grasp what was happening, Tsumugi quickly tapped on her phone while beside me.

Well then, let's head back to the room.

W-wait a minute! What do you mean someone will help? Who?

I called out in confusion to Tsumugi as she had already gotten up from the bench and started heading back towards the hospital ward.

Tsumugi making strange selfish requests was nothing new, but until now they had always been directed only at me. This was the first time she had involved other people.

Huh? What do you mean who? There's only one possible person.

Tsumugi turned back with a secretive smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Though I'd become used to her ever-changing expressions, this one was completely unfamiliar to me.

For some reason, I was dreading hearing whatever words would come next from those perfectly shaped lips.

With light, graceful steps, Tsumugi's delicate body drew closer, her breath tickling my ear.

I told him that I wanted to experience a novel-like romance, so I asked him to please be my partner. In other words, be my boyfriend.

As she whispered this, Tsumugi made a secretive gesture, gently placing her index finger against her lips.

In that moment, something unpleasant churned at the bottom of my stomach.

A boyfriend. For Tsumugi.

Who it is will be a surprise when you meet him.

Tsumugi's cheerful voice sounded like it came from somewhere far away.

My brain couldn't keep up with processing all this information. I got up from the bench and slowly followed after Tsumugi as she started walking.

Tsumugi had requested to experience a novel-like romance. She'd been joking around about being a terminal illness heroine, but despite her casual tone, maybe she was actually serious.

The thought shook me more than I'd expected.

No . . . this wasn’t some weird feeling. It’s just that Tsumugi—who’s always been by my side—suddenly started talking about love, and that caught me off guard. This thing squirming in the pit of my stomach—it shouldn’t mean anything more than that.

It shouldn't, anyway . . .

On the way back, Tsumugi didn't ask for a piggyback ride, and I followed behind her in a half-dazed state.

Though Tsumugi's pace was very slow, somehow I had the illusion that her back was getting farther and farther away.

We returned to the hospital room and stopped in front of the nameplate reading Higa Tsumugi. Tsumugi turned back with a sly smile.

Well then, let me introduce you to the other person who's helping.

With that, she slid the door wide open.

Inside the room, a male student in uniform who'd been standing around restlessly turned toward us at the sound.

Hi, Tsumugi. I just came to visit. Oh wait, you already have a visitor?

Seeing the boy looking at me over Tsumugi's shoulder, I cried out in surprise and confusion.

Huh?!

My voice was inappropriately loud for inside a hospital.

I knew this boy with his gentle, friendly demeanor like a friendly lap dog.

After all, you two aren't strangers, right?

After cheerfully responding to the person in front of her, Tsumugi turned to look at me with a mischievous—no, an evil and even sadistic—smile. Then she stepped aside so he and I could face each other directly.

Shiori, this is Yoh.

I didn't need an introduction to know who he was.

Oh wait, he's your ex-boyfriend, right?

Tsumugi's face lit up like a child who'd found a new toy.

3

I met Yoh during my second year of middle school.

Back then, I’d decided to write a novel and would sit at a corner desk in the library, struggling over my manuscript pages.

Yoh, who was on the library committee, apparently didn’t find my behavior suspicious—he was curious about me.

One day, I carelessly dropped the draft pages of a manuscript I was working on, and he picked them up for me—that’s how our relationship began. As a fellow book lover, he became someone I could talk to about writing.

But when I stopped writing novels, that relationship came to an end too.

* * *

I have a lot I want to say, but can I just say one thing first?

Faced with someone I never expected to meet in Tsumugi's hospital room, I struggled to make sense of the situation but raised my objection.

What?

Though Tsumugi tilted her head, as if trying to be cute, she couldn't quite suppress her amused laughter, so I spoke with emphasis.

This guy is not my ex-boyfriend!

I thrust my index finger decisively at the male student standing there, dressed in our high school uniform.

This guy?! . . . That's pretty harsh for someone you haven't seen in a while.

The male student who'd been called this guy was Yoh. His soft, good-natured expression reminded me of a medium-sized dog, but he looked just a touch more mature than I remembered.

Sorry about that. But I need to clear up this misunderstanding.

Huh? You two weren't actually dating?

Tsumugi blinked in surprise and looked back and forth between Yoh and me.

I mean, we were close for a while in middle school, but that's completely different.

To my decisive response, Yoh added with a wry smile.

I actually tried to explain that to Tsumugi too . . . She wouldn't believe me at all.

Aww, really? So my Surprise! Your friend's dating your ex plan was a failure?

Tsumugi grumbled disappointedly as she sat down on the bed.

I also sat down in the chair beside the bed and asked about something that had been bothering me.

Well, I was plenty surprised . . . But wait, when did you and Yoh become friends?

Yoh and I had been together through middle and high school, and while I thought Tsumugi knew of him indirectly through me, I didn't think they ever had direct contact.

When Yoh and I knew each other in middle school, Tsumugi was hospitalized, and even after she was discharged, I'd never seen the two of them talk to each other at school. In high school, Tsumugi and I were in the same class, but Yoh was in a different one. And besides, Tsumugi had attended high school for less than a month.

So I was quite surprised, thinking the two of them had somehow become friends without my knowledge. But contrary to my expectations, Tsumugi simply shook her head.

No, not at all.

Huh?!

The other day we happened to run into each other in the hallway—well, I knew his face at least, so I said hi, but we unexpectedly hit it off talking about stuff we had in common. Right?

When Tsumugi looked at him for confirmation, Yoh nodded.

Yeah, exactly. My dad's hospitalized here for appendicitis. So when I came to visit I was surprised to see Tsumugi. And that's how . . .

Seriously? What are the odds . . . ?

A skeptical voice slipped out before I could stop it, and Tsumugi turned to respond.

Like they say, truth is stranger than fiction.

She murmured, trying to dispel any suspicion.

Honestly, I still felt unsatisfied with the answer, but I decided to address the more pressing issue that was bothering me. The problem was that Tsumugi, who said she wanted to fall in love, had called Yoh her boyfriend.

So? You just happened to meet a few days ago, and now you two are already d-dating?

I tried to ask casually, but I couldn't suppress my agitation and ended up stuttering slightly. I hoped they didn't notice.

For some reason, my question brought a brief silence to the hospital room.

The two looked at each other, Yoh with a confused expression and Tsumugi with a knowing smile for some reason.

They answered in perfect unison. Talk about being in sync!

Huh . . . ?

Another incredulous answer—I blurted out a rough response. Oops!

But wait, Tsumugi, you just said boyfriend . . .

I grew confused again and tried to make sense of the conversation so far.

Mm-hmm.

She nodded while continuing to speak.

Right, I did say boyfriend, but I never said we were actually dating, did I?

Her words seemed designed to confuse me further. What is this, a riddle?

Perhaps taking pity on me as I started holding my head, Yoh kindly offered an explanation.

Uh, what Tsumugi asked me was to play the role of her boyfriend—because she wants to experience a romance like in one of those tragic illness novels.

Boyfriend . . . role?

For several seconds, I silently processed this in my head. Boyfriend role. Which meant . . .

Click—the sound of gears falling into place in my mind.

So you two aren't actually going to date, you're just pretending?

Correct!

Tsumugi made an OK sign with her thumb and index finger, and I let out a huge sigh.

Geez, then you should have said "boyfriend role" from the start! I thought you were actually dating!

Oh, didn't I say that?

No! You said boyfriend!

Sorry, my mistake.

Tsumugi stuck out her tongue slightly, but she definitely did it on purpose. She was probably just messing with me to enjoy my reaction. So annoying!