Part 8 — Misaki's Kindness
Then— a chair quietly moved.
Everyone looked up.
Misaki had stood.
She hadn't spoken during any of it.
Hadn't interrupted.
Hadn't reacted visibly.
She simply walked forward.
Slowly.
Calmly.
The classroom watched.
Souta looked up slightly.
Misaki stopped beside him.
For a moment—
she didn't speak either.
Then she gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
A simple gesture.
Nothing more.
Souta stared at her.
The classroom remained silent.
Misaki lowered her gaze slightly.
Then softly said:
"...Yuna wouldn't like seeing you like this."
A small pause.
"...She'd probably tell you to stop worrying so much."
Several students almost smiled.
Because it sounded exactly like something Yuna would say.
Souta's eyes immediately began watering again.
Misaki continued quietly.
"...She's still here."
Those words carried a weight nobody else in the room could have given them.
Because everyone knew.
Two days ago—
Misaki's father hadn't been.
The room became even quieter.
Not uncomfortable.
Just heavy.
Real.
Souta lowered his head.
And for the first time since entering the classroom—
he nodded.
Just once.
Misaki removed her hand afterward.
Then quietly returned to her seat.
No speech.
No dramatic moment.
Just a simple act of kindness.
But somehow—
it was exactly what Souta needed.
Around the classroom—
nobody resumed their conversations.
Nobody joked.
Nobody complained.
Because for the first time—
the students of Class were beginning to understand something.
The war wasn't somewhere far away.
It wasn't something adults talked about.
It wasn't a story.
It had already reached them.