Homeroom came to an end. Our homeroom teacher, Ms. Ohtsuki, had apparently developed a fascination with "office casual" attire lately as the weather turned colder, but she spent the end of class lamenting how the Vice Principal kept nitpicking her about it. Since the one who had scolded her was a man, she received plenty of sympathy from the girls, and she left the classroom looking quite satisfied with herself.
"Ohtsuki-chan is probably the youngest child in her family. Either that, or an only child."
"Y-Yeah..."
It had been over half a year since we became Ms. Ohtsuki's students, and Class C was finally starting to figure out how to manage her moods. I exchanged a wry smile with Aibe-san, who sat nearby. I’d heard this was Ms. Ohtsuki’s first year as a lead homeroom teacher after serving as an assistant, so she was likely feeling the pressure. It reminded me of my father; when he was busy right after changing jobs, he would come home so exhausted that he’d repeatedly bring an empty glass to his lips without realizing it. I’d always feel bad and end up pouring a drink for him.
Normally, dealing with students would be a handful when you're under that much stress, but Ms. Ohtsuki naturally made the students worry about her. In that sense, I suppose she was handling things quite well. She was making good use of her feminine charms in just the right way.
"I wish she wouldn't take her stress out on us, though..."
"Hey, Sajou, you're the one who caused her stress in the first place. You don't get to complain," Matsuda-kun pointed out.
"Ugh... T-That might be true..."
Wataru, who had made the flippant comment, looked down awkwardly at his bandaged left hand. From Ms. Ohtsuki's perspective, a student in her own class had clumsily injured himself at the very end of the Cultural Festival. I couldn't help but think she must have felt somewhat embarrassed by the whole ordeal.
"Fine, fine. I’ll just have to get a perfect score on the next test for her."
"Don't just say things you don't mean."
I scolded Wataru for his insincere grandstanding. I had heard him say the same thing a few times in the past, but I couldn't feel the same spark of enthusiasm in him now. That straightforwardness, which used to be so earnest and easy to read, was gone. It felt like he was gradually becoming more elusive, and it made me feel uneasy.
"Well then..."
"Ah..."
Wataru quickly slung his bag over his shoulder. His sudden movement left me no room to hesitate, and I found myself instinctively grabbing the edge of the bag.
"...Natsukawa?"
"D-Do you... Do you not have any errands today either...?"
"Oh, yeah..."
"Then... right?"
"...Sure."
Both Wataru and I were in the going-home club, so we always finished at the same time. We had been friends since middle school, and our route home was the same for a good portion of the way. I didn't even need to say anything; I could have just walked beside him.
Is it my own weakness that makes me use Wataru's injury as an excuse? Even though we had walked home together many times since the Cultural Festival ended, I had never been able to directly say, "Let's walk home together." I always ended up being roundabout, and every time I walked beside him, I felt a lingering sense of guilt.
I gave Kei a grumpy look as she watched us with a knowing smirk before heading off to her club, and then we changed into our outdoor shoes and stepped out into the breeze. As I tucked my cold fingertips into the sleeves of my knit sweater, Wataru's exposed left hand caught my eye as he walked slightly ahead of me.
"Hey, let me carry your bag."
"No, it's fine. I can't really let you do that, Natsukawa..."
"Don't be so modest. You're injured, aren't you? It's better to have your hands free in case you trip or something."
"I mean, I guess that's true... but I'm kind of worried about how it looks to everyone else..."
"Just let me have it!"
"Ah, hey, wait a—!"
Of all things, Wataru had his bag slung over the shoulder on his injured left side. When I gave it a firm tug, he panicked and loosened his grip. It was a cowardly tactic, taking advantage of his injury, but I didn't care as long as I could be of some help.
When I took it from Wataru and hugged it to my chest, the bag let out a soft hiss of air as it deflated. Just like the last time I touched it, there wasn't much inside.
"...It's light, as usual."
"I leave whatever I can in the classroom. M-More importantly..."
"?"
"...No, it's nothing."
It wasn't heavy at all, so I felt like he didn't need to be so stubborn about it. He looked away and swallowed his words—was it because he still felt bad about me carrying it?
"Come on, let's go."
"Ugh... yes, ma'am."
This had become our routine after school lately. I would forcibly lead the way for the vulnerable Wataru. I wondered how long I could keep this up. Was it okay to stay like this? Once Wataru's injury healed, what would happen then—?
"—It has been quite a while, hasn't it, Sajou-san?"
"Eh..."
A clear, resonant voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I felt like I had heard that tone before, but this voice sounded much more composed than the one in my memory. When I looked toward the source, I saw blonde hair that stood out brilliantly against the autumn schoolyard.
"Um, if I remember correctly..."
"...Young Lady."
"Y-Young Lady?"
It was the female student with the distinct "ojou-sama" aura. Just like when I saw her on the stage for the Cultural Festival's fashion show, she carried an atmosphere that made her feel like she belonged to a completely different world. She was so dazzling that it felt almost presumptuous for me to even describe her as a "girl."
I couldn't help but stare at Wataru as he responded to her with such a casual nickname.
"It’s been a bit, hasn't it? Though wouldn't it be better if we just stayed out of touch—for your own sake, Young Lady?"
"......That is..."
"...?"
In contrast to Wataru's light tone, the girl who had won Miss Kouetsu hugged her own arm and looked down.
The student Wataru called "Young Lady"—Shinonome Claudine Marika-san. When I saw her before, I was just a spectator cheering for her with admiration. That should have been the same for Wataru, too. Despite that, Wataru seemed strangely on guard right now. Was it just my imagination?
Shinonome-san raised her head and looked at Wataru with an apologetic gaze.
"I do not wish to... follow that person's words."
"..."
"..."
Wataru shrugged his shoulders, his face devoid of emotion. As if taking a breath in the middle of a conversation, he closed his mouth and let out a long sigh through his nose. A brief silence fell between them as they stared at each other.
I couldn't understand the meaning behind their exchange. However, judging by Wataru's words, it sounded as if he were telling Shinonome-san that it would be better if she didn't get close to him... Come to think of it, Shinonome-san was standing as if she were trying to hide in the shadow of the bicycle rack.
The awkward atmosphere became too much, and I found myself speaking up. There was something that had been bothering me.
"U-Um—and who is that...?"
I was looking at the elderly man standing diagonally behind Shinonome-san. He was dressed in a charcoal gray suit with a long hem, standing so silently that he almost blended into the background. Strangely, I didn't feel any family resemblance between him and Shinonome-san.
His blue eyes, which hadn't looked at me once until now, finally caught mine. A moment later, the Old Gentleman stepped forward and gave me a polite bow.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, school friend of the Young Lady. You may think of me as the Young Lady's escort."
"Ah, yes... um, hello."
He didn't seem dangerous, but he was certainly an imposing stranger. Before I knew it, I realized I was leaning halfway behind Wataru's back. Realizing I was using an injured person as a shield, I hastily stepped out and returned the bow.
"—He is my monitor."
"Eh..."
"...Monitor?"
I thought I had misheard her, but Wataru's confused echo confirmed I hadn't. That didn't sound peaceful at all. All sorts of dark speculations about her situation swirled in my head. I had questions, but as an outsider, I didn't feel I had the right to pry.
"...So you're an actual attendant in this day and age?"
"No, I am a monitor. To ensure that I do not engage in any more dubious behavior."
"..."
"Of course, there is a limit to what can be done on school grounds..." Shinonome-san continued.
Wataru scratched the back of his head awkwardly. I didn't know the details, but he clearly seemed at a loss for words. There was no sense of tragedy on Shinonome-san's face as she spoke of being "monitored." She didn't seem to lament her position, and her dignified behavior felt like a total contradiction.
"—Specifically, any contact with Sajou-san without a monitor is not permitted by the Shinonome family."
"...Eh?"
Why? How? For what reason?
What possible connection could there be for Wataru's name to be mentioned like that by her family...?