The morning had been a total disaster from the start.
Dragging my leaden limbs, I forced myself toward the building for my first-period lecture. There was a reason I was so utterly exhausted, and it should go without saying: it was all Kasahara’s fault.
The second I let it slip that Hayashi was cooking for me, her eyes lit up with a terrifying intensity. She had grilled me for every single detail regarding Hayashi’s cooking, and once she’d pried the truth out of me, the begging started.
To summarize her plea: she wanted me to let her join us for dinner.
She had a variety of excuses ready.
“It’s been six months since I started university, and eating alone is just so lonely.”
“When I get home from my part-time job, the house is pitch black. When I flip on the lights, I feel like I’m on the verge of tears.”
“So, it’s not like I specifically want to eat Megu’s cooking or anything.”
They were all incredibly transparent lies.
Good grief, that girl... If she wanted to eat Hayashi’s food, she should have just been honest about it. I’d suspected it for a while, but isn't her attachment to Hayashi a little too intense? Is that just what happens to people when they become best friends? Seeing her like that made me feel like I never wanted a best friend of my own.
“Anyway, what am I going to do?”
My exasperation with Kasahara faded, replaced by a sense of aimlessness. In the end, I hadn't been able to get her help—my last resort—to fulfill my promise to Hayashi.
I walked across the campus, crossing my arms and groaning. To be honest, I didn't really care either way. Whether I fulfilled the promise or not, I couldn't see enough value in the reward or the penalty Hayashi had proposed to justify the effort. Letting things take their course seemed like the easiest path.
“I don't think Megu suggested that because she wants you to interact with people like that, Yamamoto-kun...”
Or so I thought. But because of a certain someone's comment, my resolve was wavering. I’d always thought of myself as someone who could stay detached, but I never imagined I’d end up agonizing over it this much.
Perhaps because lectures were about to start, the campus was much more crowded than it had been in the early morning. Our school was reasonably famous, and the population density spiked as the hour approached. It couldn't compare to the chaos of Shinjuku or Shibuya, but the sheer vitality of so many young people only added to my fatigue.
That was when it happened.
I spotted a handkerchief poking out of the pocket of a girl walking ahead of me. It hadn't been tucked in properly, and a gust of the dry wind that heralded the beginning of winter snatched it away. Whipped up by the draft between the tall research buildings, the fabric fluttered into the air.
The girl didn't seem to notice.
The handkerchief drifted down and landed right at my feet.
I suddenly remembered seeing a handkerchief in a city station once. It had been trampled by so many people that it looked like a filthy floor rag. I wasn't being sentimental, and I wasn't particularly worried about the owner. The memory had simply surfaced, vivid and unbidden.
Even so, I figured there was no reason to let this one suffer the same fate.
“Excuse me.”
I picked it up and called out to her. Her shoulders jolted, and she turned around with a frightened expression. She looked at my face, then at my hand, and realized what had happened.
“You dropped this.”
She didn't reply immediately. She didn't even move.
Suddenly, I remembered a time back in my first year of high school. I’d picked up an eraser for the girl sitting next to me. She’d had a nasty attitude, and back then, her only response had been a sharp click of her tongue.
“Thank you very much.”
A polite thanks. A polite bow.
“Eh?”
“Huh?”
The girl tilted her head at my dumbfounded reaction. Looking closely, she was quite feminine—delicate in a way that was different from both Hayashi and Kasahara. She looked like the kind of girl who would stir up protective instincts, or perhaps a desire to bully.
“Sorry. I just didn't expect to be thanked for picking up a lost item.”
“Oh? Isn't that normal?”
“Well, it hasn't been for me.”
I couldn't bring myself to say more, so I just gave a wry smile and handed her the handkerchief.
“Thank you so much.”
“I just picked up something you dropped. Well, I'll be going now.”
“Ah...”
“Hmm?”
“...No, it's nothing.”
“I see. Well then.”
I left her behind and headed toward the lecture hall.
Then it hit me.
Wait.
Hold on a second.
Did I just... have a conversation with another student? Did I actually fulfill the promise to Hayashi?
No way. That’s impossible.
I mean, this is me. I'm the guy who thinks talking to people is too much work. There's no way I could have finished the task this quickly.
...Wait.
No, I definitely had. I’d actually done it.
Alright. For now, I should report it to Hayashi. I opened my phone and sent her a message.
『I fulfilled the promise.』
『What did you talk about?』
The reply came instantly. I decided to answer right away, figuring that if I took too long, she'd immediately flag it as a lie. I told her exactly what happened.
『A handkerchief blew out of someone's pocket and landed at my feet. I picked it up, called out to her, and gave it back. She even thanked me.』
『What is this? That sounds fake as hell.』
『I know.』
I’d thought the same thing while I was typing it. A cliché development can be surprisingly refreshing when it actually happens to you.
『But did you really have to go and create a "moment" with some random girl? (Angry)』