I was thinking back to the moment I saw Takanashi-san off…
I found myself waving to him before I even realized what I was doing, which caught me a little off guard. I didn’t recall ever doing such a thing before—at least, not to a boy.
When he had turned back to look at me, I felt a strange, inexplicable sensation. That was when my hand had started moving on its own.
"What kind of person is Takanashi-san to you, Sara-chan?" Grandmother asked with an inquisitive look.
It made sense that she was curious; she had likely never seen me speaking so naturally with a boy my age before.
In truth, I did think Takanashi-san was different from other boys. When I was with him, I could relax and talk without overthinking, much like I did with my friends. The fact that he was the first boy I’d met who didn’t trigger that instinctive sense of aversion felt strangely novel.
I have had a hard time with boys for as long as I can remember.
I don’t have many memories of kindergarten, but I remember being bullied frequently in elementary school. It wasn't just one or two boys, either. It wasn't limited to my own class; boys from other classes would go out of their way to come over and tease me. At its worst, they would hide my belongings just to watch me struggle.
If I spoke even a few words to a boy, people would start a ruckus, claiming we were "close" or that I must have a crush on him.
Things didn't change much in middle school. I wondered if their brains simply stopped developing at some point. It was one thing to talk about nothing but games and anime, but some boys would brag about those things to me as if I cared. And even though I was merely a captive audience, rumors would inevitably spread that we were dating.
There were even boys who would get ahead of themselves and say things like, "Don't you dare talk to my woman."
It was such a nuisance. Deciding that dealing with them was a waste of my time, I realized I had to be blunt with these immature boys who couldn't read the room.
"Don't speak to me; you're an eyesore. And who exactly is 'your woman'? Are you so delusional that you've lost the ability to distinguish between your fantasies and reality?"
I still remember the stunned expression on the face of the boy who had called me his. My reputation among the boys plummeted after that, I’m sure—not that I cared.
Conversely, girls from all over started talking to me. They told me I was cool or that I’d finally said what they were all thinking, having grown tired of the boys' childish, annoying behavior. Yet, even as they claimed to be bothered, I eventually saw them trying to cozy up to those same boys. It felt hypocritical… but I suppose that’s just how people are.
I had no intention of changing my stance. However, I understood that my attitude would only create more enemies. To ensure no one could find grounds to complain…
I’m not one to boast, but I’ve always been good at my studies. I don’t dislike chores or domestic work, either. Since I had the time anyway, I decided to devote myself to everything I did, striving for self-improvement. I wanted to reach a level where no one could say a word against me—where they’d just think, "If it's her, there’s no helping it."
I carried this mindset into high school, of course.
The gap between different types of boys only seemed to widen. There were the flashy, shallow ones with dyed hair who looked unintelligent at a glance—flaunting their lack of class and making scenes in public with their abrasive language. Some of them would approach me with that same flippant attitude and suddenly ask me out, despite knowing nothing about me.
Even the boys who looked "normal" were increasingly prone to confessing their love to me, a complete stranger. I couldn't fathom being told someone "liked" me when we weren't even acquaintances. What did they know about me? What part of me could they possibly like?
As those encounters piled up, I grew weary, and I knew my own demeanor only grew colder.
Driven by my personal goals, I accepted the invitation to the Student Council immediately. Though I hadn't sought the position, I eventually found myself as the Vice President. I worked hard to grant student requests whenever I deemed them necessary—purely out of calculation, of course. I figured that by skillfully handling manageable requests, I could earn the respect of those around me.
I pushed myself in my studies. I made sure my marks in subjects like PE and home economics were just as high as my written exams. Before I knew it, seniors, peers, and juniors alike were calling me amazing. I was just doing what I felt was necessary, but I found myself genuinely happy to be thanked. Still, because it started as a calculation, expressing that joy honestly remained difficult.
The number of people willing to help me grew. In particular, my classmate Natsumi—a girl as energetic as her boyish looks suggested—was the type to persistently push through my standoffish exterior. Thanks to her, we eventually reached a point where we could talk normally. Now, I consider her a very precious friend.
In the Student Council, I believe everyone has truly accepted me. As Vice President, I give orders as I always have. Sometimes—well, usually—I am quite strict. I suppose that’s why few people approach me without a specific reason.
It was in the midst of that life that I met Takanashi-san. He felt like a type of boy I’d never encountered before. If asked to explain exactly how… I would be at a loss for words, but every time we interact at school, my curiosity about him grows just a little more.
After I got home, my thoughts naturally drifted back to today.
…That’s right, the repayment.
It was proving to be a difficult decision. I’d promised it would be "something simple," after all. The truth was, I had never given a gift to a boy in my life. Sweets didn't feel quite right, and I didn't want to give him some accessory he might not even need.
I tried to recall the Takanashi-san I always saw at the flowerbeds, looking for a hint.
First, he arrives at the garden and eats his lunch…
I realized that Takanashi-san only ever eats onigiri. A bento… I shouldn't double up on the onigiri, so perhaps just some side dishes. If only I knew what kind of food he liked…
The idea came to me quite easily. If I see him tomorrow, I'll try to ask him casually.