He picked up the textbook he had bought with Nijika and the others that day, touching the real paper pages, but he still had little desire to read.
Kita Ikuyo did not arrive until class was about to begin.
When she entered the classroom, her usual smile was gone. Even when greeting her friends, she could only force out a strained smile.
When she reached her seat, she stole a guilty glance at Ishikawa Hayato with the expression of someone who had done something wrong. But her gaze suddenly met his, making her flinch. She then calmly pretended to put her schoolbag into her desk.
Ishikawa Hayato understood the reason.
He had just noticed that the bandages on Kita Ikuyo's hands had been replaced with even heavier ones. There also seemed to be faint dark circles beneath her eyes, as though she had used makeup to cover them.
Though she had kept trying to hide them, they still could not escape a pervert's gaze.
She really was an idiot. Compared to guitar, bass hurt the hands more when practicing, but it was not that easy to cut one's fingers. Reaching that state must have taken quite a bit of effort.
When class ended.
Ishikawa Hayato took out his phone and sent a message to Kita Ikuyo's LINE, where she had been playing dead, then walked out.
He came to the school rooftop. Hardly anyone came here during breaks.
The school Ishikawa Hayato attended ranked among the lower tiers in terms of deviation score.
It emphasized happy learning and a fulfilling school life, with the focus on getting through one's student years easily. Of course, it did not entirely neglect academics.
The environment within the school matched its educational philosophy, clean and attractive.
Brightly painted safety fencing surrounded the spacious rooftop. Rough granite reflected a little sunlight, while several evergreens grew vibrantly in the flowerbed at the center.
Ishikawa Hayato waited for quite some time before hurried footsteps finally approached from the stairwell.
Kita Ikuyo had never muted the messages from the other three band members.
But whenever she saw a message from them, she would quickly turn off her screen.
She watched their messages go from asking when she would come, to wondering why she had not come, to worrying about her.
She felt like she had done something unforgivable.
Yet no matter how hard she practiced, her guitar could not produce the right sound. She had watched so many instructional videos and practiced for so long, but she had not felt even the slightest improvement.
She had even injured her hands like this despite her senpai telling her to be careful.
She did not dare see them on Saturday afternoon.
When Monday came, she could not imagine what expression Ishikawa Hayato would have when he saw her. She had even considered simply taking the day off.
But she still had to face it.
After class, she received a LINE message from Ishikawa Hayato. She prepared herself and went up to the rooftop to come clean to him.
She hoped he could explain the situation to the two senpai on her behalf.
Hurrying onto the rooftop, Kita Ikuyo guiltily prepared to say everything in one breath.
"Sorry, actually, I..."
The words she had gathered her courage to say, the words she had rehearsed in her heart so many times, were interrupted by Ishikawa Hayato.
She only heard him say with a smile,
"Kita Ikuyo, you wouldn't want the senpai to find out that you can't play guitar, would you?"
Kita Ikuyo froze on the spot.
Kita Ikuyo had always felt that her life was terribly boring.
Her grades were decent, she was good at sports, and she had plenty of friends. Everything about her was stuck at the most ordinary middle ground.
It was as if she had been molded by society, school, her friends, and all sorts of circles.
She always did the appropriate things, the things she was supposed to do.
Just another high school girl among countless others.
She did not even have a single special skill of her own.
That was why, when she saw Ryo-senpai performing on the street, she was immediately drawn in by her unconventional attitude and absolute sense of self.
So she had wanted to join the band and work hard to change.
But... sure enough, some things really were just fantasies.
After returning to her seat, she did not know whether she had let out a sigh of relief or given up hope.
Ishikawa Hayato had just asked two small favors of her, both very minor things.
She did not quite understand, but since he had helped explain her situation to the senpai, she agreed.
When classes ended, Kita Ikuyo thought about what Ishikawa Hayato had asked of her and suddenly realized something.
Within the class, an atmosphere of collective disgust and isolation toward one person seemed to have begun brewing.
School had only just started. How had it become like this?
Recently, she had been busy practicing and thinking about Ryo-senpai, so she had not noticed it.
Come to think of it, Ishikawa Hayato should have been very aware of this.
This would become very bad if it continued.
But why had he asked her to...
"Don't speak up for me in class."
Lunch
Gotou Hitori was rather worried about Ishikawa Hayato.
Though it was strange. She herself was wearing an unfashionable tracksuit, huddled among the school's piles of miscellaneous junk, eating her lunch alone.
Yet she could not help worrying about that boy who seemed sunny and easygoing.
If he spent too much time with someone like her, he would lose his friends too.
It had only just been the start of school, yet he was constantly not with his friends. That would be bad, right?
"Could Ishikawa-san not have any friends either?"
Thinking that, Gotou Hitori suddenly showed a smile so happy it seemed like she might melt. Meeting someone of the same kind right away was wonderful, but she immediately shook her head and denied it.
"No, no, that should be impossible. Someone like Ishikawa-san definitely..."
In her fantasy, Ishikawa Hayato returned to a girls' cheering squad with an overflowing, energetic smile, carrying sweat and victory with him. He accepted the drinks they offered him with a cheerful grin.
With the refreshing movements of a commercial, accompanied by them...
Gurgle.
Her heart could not take it!
Her gloomy heart was about to be scorched to death.
Don't think about it, don't think about it.
Though Gotou Hitori thought that to herself, she could not help becoming a little more afraid of Ishikawa Hayato. She silently shrank farther into the corner.
Tap tap.
The sound of someone knocking on the wall.
There was only one person who would use such a joking gesture to alert her.
"P-please come in."
Though this was not her home, she still said it. Even she thought it was strange.
Ishikawa Hayato had also hidden himself in the corner, but he noticed that Gotou Hitori seemed to be sitting farther inside than usual today. He did not approach her, instead sitting in his usual spot.
Light from above the stairwell stretched across his shoulder.
"Sorry about that day. I scared you unconscious."
He spoke and apologized once more. After Ishikawa Hayato had guaranteed himself under the name of a pervert that Friday, Gotou Hitori's facial features had practically flown off her face before she fainted.
She had given him quite a scare too. Was that really something a human could do?
"Ah... no, it's okay."
Gotou Hitori lowered her head slightly and gently shook it. At the same time, the hand pressing on her lunchbox showed no intention of opening it.
She did not even dare open her lunchbox before someone else started eating?
Ishikawa Hayato thought about it but did not pay it much mind as he opened his lunchbox.
Broccoli, cherry tomatoes, tempura, fried chicken, octopus sausages—various foods had been arranged cutely inside the lunchbox.
The colors were balanced, as were the meat and vegetables, showing his family's care in every detail.
He silently thanked his mother for getting up that morning and carefully making his lunch.
Then Ishikawa Hayato looked across from him. Following his movements, Gotou Hitori cautiously opened her lunchbox and placed it on her lap. She took out her thermos of soup, pulled out the chopsticks beside it, then held her lunchbox in both hands with the chopsticks clasped between them.
Her movements were stiff and proper. The way she acted so cautiously was weakly adorable, as though she were afraid someone would snatch her lunch away.
"Thanks for the meal."
After taking a few bites, Ishikawa Hayato noticed that Gotou Hitori was so nervous her face had started turning pale. He looked at her lunchbox.
"Gotou-san, want to trade lunches?"
Trade lunches!
Something like that was actually happening?!
Gotou Hitori was shocked.
She knew what this was. On the surface, it was a way for friends to strengthen their bond. In reality, it was a way to confirm their relative status.
The strong could enjoy the most delicious food in the other person's lunchbox, while the weak could only eat the wrapping paper to show submission.
Gotou Hitori began trembling.
She looked. The best things in her lunchbox were fried chicken, tomato fish bites, and a golden omelet.
But in his lunchbox...
There was none! No wrapping paper to eat.
W-what should she do? What should she do?
"Trade?"
Ishikawa Hayato asked.
Gotou Hitori heavily nodded.
Ishikawa Hayato held out his lunchbox a little, letting her go first.
Gotou Hitori shakily extended her chopsticks. After picking something up, she placed it in her own lunchbox.
Ishikawa Hayato was dumbfounded.
"Why did you take my rice?"
His words instantly frightened Gotou Hitori so badly that her expression fell apart. The hand holding her chopsticks trembled wildly.
"Rice... rice isn't okay either?"
Trembling, she put the rice back, then acted as though she had picked up a piece of air and placed it into her lunchbox.
Ishikawa Hayato held back a laugh.
No wonder Nijika and the others said Gotou Hitori was interesting in the original story. Her actions really were always unexpected.
Ishikawa Hayato looked at the lunchbox she respectfully offered him and, without ceremony, picked up a piece of golden omelet.
Then, as she pulled it back, he quickly gave her a piece of fried chicken.
"Eh?" Gotou Hitori froze for a moment, and her expression instantly returned to normal.
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