MARCH THE FIRST.
When Kokoro got to the castle, she found Aki and Fuka already there. Surprisingly, they were playing one of Masamune’s video games in the Game Room.
‘You’re too good at this, Fuka. Go easy on me, will you?’
‘Come on, this is a competition, you know.’
Yesterday things had become uncomfortable as the two of them argued over whether one person’s wish should be granted or not, and whether it was a waste or not for their memories to be the only thing left, but now they were obviously getting on fine.
‘Fuka, about yesterday,’ Aki said, her voice sounding upbeat, and Kokoro found it hard to interrupt them. They must have found time to make up yesterday. And there was Subaru’s apology to Aki, which might also have contributed to her good mood.
This was how the month began, the month of their farewell.
✦ ✦ ✦
AT SCHOOL THE THIRD SEMESTER would be coming to an end, and the spring holiday would be starting soon.
As they’d be going into a new school year, her homeroom teacher, Mr Ida, brought her slippers and seat cushion round to her house.
Kokoro caught up with him for a bit. She had just got back from the castle and her mother hadn’t come home from work yet.
She wasn’t very keen to see him, but was relieved he hadn’t tried to visit while she was in the castle. She imagined him questioning her about where she was, and the last thing she would have wanted to do was talk to him, even if just to give him some excuse.
She was still angry about Miori Sanada’s note. Ms Kitajima must have told Mr Ida how upset it had made her. So Kokoro had been expecting him to bring it up, but when she came to the front door he only greeted her with a simple ‘Hey.’
Then he went back to behaving like a model teacher again. ‘Kokoro, how are you?’ he asked.
Kokoro nodded a greeting – not angry or sad, just a bit down.
Mr Ida seemed uncomfortable, and she was pretty sure she wasn’t imagining it.
‘Everyone’ll be waiting for you at school in April, when the new academic year begins,’ he said. He put down the slippers and cushion he’d brought her.
She didn’t think he really thought that. He just wanted to be able to say he’d visited her. If she came back, it would mean one less problem for him, and if she didn’t, he didn’t really care. That was the vibe she picked up from him.
They were changing classes anyway, and he wouldn’t be her homeroom teacher any more.
It seemed possible she could repeat a year, if she wanted to. But that was the one thing she wanted to avoid. So she would just be moved up, along with Miori Sanada and Tojo-san.
‘Well, see you later, Kokoro.’
‘Um, OK,’ she nodded.
Mr Ida seemed as if he had more to say. And Kokoro, too, felt like she should say something – but she had no idea what.
‘If you feel up to it, do you want to write a reply?’
‘A reply?’
‘To the letter from Sanada-san.’
The moment she heard her name, she felt faint. She held a hand to her stomach and patiently waited for the feeling to pass.
Mr Ida sighed. A huge, over-the-top sigh.
‘It bothered Sanada,’ he said. ‘She felt you were making fun of her.’
Kokoro took a short breath, and held it in.
‘When she wrote it, in her own way, Sanada was trying her best. So think about it, OK?’
As she listened to the sound of the front door closing, Mr Ida’s steps becoming fainter, she stood on the other side, stupefied.
Some people would never understand each other.
In their world, Kokoro was the one at fault.
The stronger ones could boldly attack her because they felt nothing they did was questionable.
She felt you were making fun of her. The words whirled in Kokoro’s head.
She was on the verge of tears. But it was galling to fall victim to their logic, and the tears wouldn’t come. She beat the wall in frustration and the more she did, the more her palms throbbed with pain.
That girl robbed me of time.
She breathed out and gritted her teeth. How could people like that remain at the heart of school life, as if the world revolved around them? The thought made her want to tear her hair out.
How long she was standing there, she didn’t know.
She suddenly heard a clatter outside.
Kokoro held her breath. Mr Ida was long gone. So it wasn’t him. And she hadn’t heard the postman’s motorcycle. So it must be Tojo-san. Perhaps bringing over the last school notice of the third semester.
After several minutes she ventured outside, but there was no one near the front gate or by the mailbox. Relieved, Kokoro opened it. And there, along with the folded school newsletter and some other printouts, was something else. A sealed envelope.
It was addressed to her: Kokoro Anzai-sama.
On the back, Moé Tojo.
Gripping the letter, Kokoro looked up and gazed at Moé’s home, two doors down from hers. The house looked quiet.
Leaning against the front door, she quickly slid her fingers under the envelope flap and opened it.
The letter contained a single line.
To Kokoro-chan. I’m sorry. From Moé.
Her eyes scanned the line over and over, struck by the way she was addressed.
To Kokoro-chan.
She recalled the moment when they’d just become friends, and Moé’s voice when she said, Kokoro-chan. She missed hearing it.
She had no idea what Tojo-san was apologizing for, or why she’d written the note. But she knew she’d done it on her own. She could sense this from its brevity.
Kokoro slid the note back into the envelope, bit her lip, and closed her eyes.