She knew better than anyone that she was weak-willed and couldn’t speak up when something troubled her. It was a downside to her personality she was intimately familiar with. It felt as though Kanbara had torn out a part of Mio to confront her with.
Shame flooded her every fiber.
Kanbara started walking again, stomping toward the bus stop. Mio wished to disappear, yet she managed to say, “Um, Senpai, you don’t have to accompany me home today.” He stared at her. She lowered her eyes. “I’m very sorry about this. I’ll be fine on my own now.”
“This is happening because you’re not fine.”
Oh, she thought.
Mio peered up into Kanbara’s cold gaze.
“What gives you the right to make that decision?” he said. “You’re feeling awkward because you got scolded a little, and now you’re shutting me out? That’s one of your bad qualities, Mio.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” she objected. She hadn’t thought that she was shutting him out. “I just feel like I’ve been a burden on you.”
“The only burden would be for you to go off alone so that new kid can mess with you more. All you ever think about is the easiest option that doesn’t make you the bad guy. Stop going with your first instinct in every situation.”
Mio didn’t reply.
Kanbara was right. If she was alone, Shiraishi would bother her. That was the entire reason she’d come to Kanbara for help. Going it alone would undo all that.
“I’m taking you home,” Kanbara insisted. His decision seemed final, regardless of Mio’s feelings. “Because I’m worried about you,” he added.
They got on the bus and sat side by side, and Mio still didn’t say a word. Kanbara was right, of course. Mio felt sick at herself. She’d never be fine alone. What would she do if Shiraishi came after her again? She was afraid of that.
Every time Mio went through something frightening, she immediately reached out to Hanaka, Saho, and Kanbara, giving them a whole sob story.
Mio understood that it came off like she was milking the situation for attention. Kanbara’s accusing her of not genuinely trying to protect herself cut deep.
“Mio,” Kanbara said. She looked at him; he was searching for something on his phone. A few moments later, he said, “Here,” and showed her the screen.
It was from their LINE text thread.
Whatever you do, don’t act alone. You can’t predict what he might do.
That’s true. Thanks for worrying about me, Senpai.
The messages were from the day before. Mio didn’t know why he was showing them to her, though.
“Guess you didn’t take this very seriously.” Kanbara stared at her—glared. “When you text this, you have to think of it like a signed contract. I said not to act alone, but you didn’t listen. What am I supposed to do? I can give you all the advice and warnings in the world, but if you don’t obey, there’s nothing I can do for you. You broke the contract between us. Do you understand?”
“…Yes.”
The bus shook Mio in her seat. She was taken aback, surprised this discussion was continuing. He’d even dug up old messages.
The words Thanks for worrying about me, Senpai seemed so distant. When they’d chatted the day before, Mio had had no idea this would happen. That had to be what he meant about not taking it seriously.
“I’m sorry.”
Honestly, she didn’t know what she was apologizing for at this point. Kanbara appeared to recognize that and asked, “Do you know what you did wrong? I don’t want to talk about this. I’m doing it out of concern because I don’t want you to be in danger.”
Mio kept repeating that she was sorry, and she prayed that the bus would reach her stop soon. She wanted to tell Kanbara that he could let her go there and didn’t have to walk to her house, but she realized that wasn’t an option. Shiraishi knew her address. She had seen him outside her home. Kanbara was right: Mio didn’t realize how ignorant she was. That was why he was upset. Mio felt sad.
They got off at her stop, and she walked shoulder to shoulder with Kanbara back to her home. He was still angry. He didn’t raise his voice, but he continued to berate her softly.
Right before they reached the house, Kanbara stopped talking to stare at the bamboo grove.
“Senpai?”
“Since it’s such a problem, I think you should tell your family about the transfer student.”
“What?!”
“Why is that so shocking?” Kanbara looked upset again. “Isn’t that the obvious thing to do? He’s come to your house. You’ve got your parents, your grandma, and your brother Shizuku, right? You should tell your family so they can protect you if need be.”
“But I can’t tell my parents yet…”
He hasn’t actually done anything that bad to me.
“What do you mean, ‘yet’?” Kanbara demanded. Mio was at a loss for words. “‘Yet’ means it’s pushing toward that point, and you know it’s coming, right? But you intend to ignore it until it gets worse. If you don’t want it to be a big deal and would prefer not to make a fuss, why ask me for help? Am I meaningless to you?”
“I didn’t…”
“You didn’t think that far ahead? What did I tell you? Stop saying the first thought that pops into your head.”
He was right, of course. Absolutely right.
“Also,” he added, sounding disgusted. Mio trembled, worried what else he might say. Kanbara jabbed his chin toward the house. “What’s with that bamboo grove?”
“Huh…?”
Mio’s mind was blank for a moment, and she struggled to understand the question.
“It just feels really creepy, for some reason.”
“Creepy…?”
The wind picked up, rustling the bamboo. The grove had been there since before her grandfather’s generation. It had been a familiar, comforting sight to Mio since she was small.
There was no cause for Kanbara to say what he had. For the first time, something felt off to Mio. Yet before she could reply, Kanbara muttered, “Whatever. I’m leaving. I’ve walked you home. Whatever happens, don’t get caught alone. Don’t go outside. You don’t know what might happen.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? Do you really?”
He sounded like her mother. Or a teacher.
It was the kind of cynical, bitter thing you’d say to a child when you knew the child didn’t genuinely comprehend your point.
“Also, you should cut your hair shorter, Mio.”
“…I should?”
“Yes. I thought it looked really good short. It hangs too low now, and I don’t like that I can’t see the back of your neck. Can’t you trim it a bit?”
Mio was taken aback by the sudden change of topic. Did he usually say things like this? Despite her shock, she managed to give him a noncommittal answer and moved on to expressing her gratitude.
“Thank you for walking me home.”
“It’s cool. You don’t have to make a big deal about it,” Kanbara replied, turning on his heel. Although she liked him, there was relief in knowing she was finally free today. Then he delivered the final blow.
“Your gratitude’s pretty hollow anyway.”
Mio’s feet—her body—froze.
He didn’t look back to see that she was rigid. Mio watched him go until he was out of sight. Then she lowered her head and whispered, “Thank you,” like a robot. Not because she wished he would stay, but because she was frightened. There was a sense that Kanbara would be angry if Mio wasn’t there when he turned around, like he might scold Mio for fleeing into the house.
She waited for some time after Kanbara was gone. Eventually, she wanted to cry, and after a brief countdown in her head, she spun and headed for the house, then rushed through the front door.
“Your gratitude’s pretty hollow anyway.”
His last words echoed in her ears.
“Whoa! What’s wrong, Sis?” Shizuku asked. Mio had dashed into the living room and dived face-first into the sofa cushions.
“Leave me alone,” she said, fighting to think. Her mind was an awful mess. Amid the chaos, something new occurred to her.
“And your brother Shizuku, right?”
Did I tell Kanbara-senpai that I had a brother? Did I tell him Shizuku’s name?