After stepping out of the bathroom and drying off, water droplets still clinging to the tips of his hair, Haruto walked into the living room. Wearing nothing but his underwear, he slowly approached his desk, towel in hand, and powered on his laptop.
He had hoped to make some progress on his manuscript while his hair was still damp, but sitting in front of the screen, his mind was completely blank.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of what to write. It wasn't that he couldn't think of any plot ideas—there were possibilities—but none of them felt like what he truly wanted to write. Unlike other creators, Haruto was particular; he only wanted to write what genuinely interested him. Popular ideas that might appeal to the masses held no attraction.
Sitting there in silence, staring at the document as if sulking, he pursed his lips. Half an hour later, he exhaled and closed the laptop.
"I'm just not interested in writing right now. Thirty minutes, and nothing came to me. I've gone through the story's plot from start to finish—maybe it's time to wrap it up. There's nothing left worth writing."
From the start of summer until now, he had written nearly two hundred thousand words—enough for a full book. Only the ending remained.
At first, the story had flowed effortlessly under the excitement of creation, but now, at the conclusion, it was always torturous. Leaning back slightly in his chair, he stared at the screen, pondering how best to end the tale.
"Let him fall off a cliff? Hm… someone like him really has no reason to continue living. The ending should be at the cliff near the hot spring inn—chasing an illusion and then falling."
A sensitive person, lost in his own fantasies, loses all meaning in life when dreams shatter. Left in the world, he becomes nothing more than a "walking corpse."
"Unable to adapt to reality, unwilling to compromise with the world, childish and self-indulgent—his best fate is a tragic end."
Reopening the document, inspiration finally returned. Haruto's fingers danced across the keyboard, turning his ideas into vivid words, giving the story a proper conclusion.
When it came to daily life, even going to school felt burdensome. The alarm clock rang, and though he wanted to rest a little longer, he remembered it was a school day. His brain, like it had been plastered with cement, slowly restarted, and his heavy body climbed out of bed. He silenced the alarm, opened his bleary eyes, and stared blankly around the room.
Having conceived the ending the night before, he had written for five hours straight—from nine at night to two in the morning—producing around ten thousand words and finally finishing the story.
"The proofreading can be left to her," he thought, deciding to hand over the publication work to his editor. For now, he only wanted to rest.
Still groggy, he went to the bathroom, splashed his face, and felt slightly more awake. Breakfast was simple: a fried egg between slices of bread, with a glass of milk for health.
He dressed in his school uniform, grabbed everything he needed, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and left the apartment.
"Good morning, Haruto."
"Mm."
Sekai greeted him, but Haruto barely acknowledged her, too drained to even turn his head, walking straight toward school. Sekai, standing across from him, froze for a moment, unsure what to say. Haruto had already disappeared down the street.
"…."
His cold response puzzled Sekai, making her question if she had done something wrong. Her heart tightened in unease.
"Sekai?"
Behind her, Setsuna's voice called out. Sekai turned to see her friend's concerned expression.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing… really."
She wanted to ask if something had happened with Haruto, but recalling his indifferent attitude earlier, she kept her suspicions to herself. Setsuna noticed Sekai seemed to be hiding something but didn't press further.
Haruto trudged toward school, arriving without seeing anyone familiar at the gate or inside. Free from interaction, he returned to his classroom, slumping at his desk and resting until roll call stirred him awake.
"Miyamizu, do you need to go to the nurse's office?"
"No."
"Then please pay attention in class."
"Yes."
Sitting upright, he quietly opened his textbook. Though he remained awake, his mind drifted, barely following the lesson. The teacher noticed his distraction but didn't make a fuss.
Class was quiet, punctuated only by the teacher's voice, making it almost hypnotic. Haruto endured until the bell finally rang.
At lunch, having not prepared a bento, he walked to the cafeteria and ordered curry. Sitting alone in a corner, Itsuki approached, placing a tower of dishes in front of her.
"Beef bowl, fried shrimp, pork cutlet, and some pan-fried dumplings."
Haruto glanced at his simple curry and wondered if he should order more.
'Nah, let's just call it frugal.'
Seeing what he had ordered, Itsuki hesitated, biting her lip, conflicted. After five minutes of silence, she tremulously pushed the dumplings toward him.
"Consider this a thank-you."
"Hm?"
Haruto looked up from his curry and met Itsuki's lingering gaze as she gently offered the dumplings.
"You helped me with my studies before, but I never properly thanked you. Consider these dumplings my gratitude."
"You seem a bit reluctant?"
Her hand still clutched the plate as she watched the dumplings longingly, leaving Haruto unsure how to react. He gently nudged the plate back to her, lightheartedly returning the offering.
"…."
After a moment, he returned to eating his curry, leaving Itsuki quietly staring at him, unsure of what else to do.
Itsuki opened her mouth slightly, staring at the pan-fried dumplings in front of her. The knot of tension in her chest slowly began to loosen.
As everyone knows, humans have three basic desires.
Having satisfied his need for sleep that morning, Haruto now only wished to quietly satisfy his hunger.
Itsuki lowered her head and ate in silence. The two of them had almost no conversation, simply sharing the lunch in quiet companionship. Haruto finished first, picked up his tray, and stood.
"I'm done. I'll go ahead."
Before Itsuki could say anything, he turned and left, leaving her staring after his retreating figure in silence.
A pang of disappointment—disappointment in herself—settled in.
She had no idea what to say to him or what topics they might share. Throughout the meal, her attention had been almost entirely on her food.
Failure.
Seated not far away, Miku noticed Itsuki sitting alone. Rising from her seat, she carried her own tray and sat across from her.
Itsuki's face registered surprise at seeing Miku, but she remained silent, just as she had been during lunch with Haruto. Both of them ate quietly, lost in their own thoughts.
Later, the classroom emptied slowly, and they arrived at Rio Futaba's laboratory. Inside, Rio was already seated at a table, holding a beaker over a small flame as she brewed coffee.
"Coffee in the daytime?" Haruto asked.
"You went to the cafeteria?"
"I stayed up late last night, didn't prepare a bento, so I went to the cafeteria. Are you lonely?"
Rio adjusted the flame slightly but ignored Haruto as he approached. She poured the nearly finished coffee into her personal mug and inhaled the aroma.
Haruto leaned slightly closer to smell it as well. The aroma was strong, but recalling the last time he had drunk Rio's concoction and spent the entire afternoon asleep, he decided to hold off tasting it for now. Coffee wasn't really his preference anyway—he much preferred plain tea.
"Want some?"
"No, thanks."
Rio didn't mind his refusal. She sipped the coffee herself, a little too hot, and set the mug back on the table. Her gaze flicked toward Haruto.
Noticing his eyes on her, she followed his gaze down to her legs and paused. After a moment, she looked back at him. His eyes were still unrestrained, direct in a way that left her slightly exasperated.
"You really like looking at girls' legs, huh?"
"I don't like just any legs. I like looking at the legs I like. Ever thought about trying pantyhose?"
"Straightforward as always… but kind of gross," she replied flatly.
Liking someone and accepting all their quirks were different matters. While some could, Rio refused to force herself in that regard.
"Don't like them?"
"They're uncomfortable. I hate them."
"White ones?"
Rio ignored him, sipping her now slightly cooled coffee.
At home, she hadn't minded, but now, in the school setting, she suddenly acted as though she disliked it. Haruto chalked it up to the setting and didn't push the conversation further.
Turning to safer topics, Haruto realized he knew very little about school life. Rio, who was somewhat detached from everyone else, knew even less.
The two of them sat in the lab, the silence stretching. Finding no topic to discuss, Haruto slowly leaned closer to Rio, starting to fidget with her…
~~~~~~~~~~
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