Onlookers

Arriving at Palette, the wind chime tinkled as I pushed the door open. The afternoon sun spilled in at an angle, painting diamond-shaped patches of light across the wooden floor.

Two people were already seated by the window—Horikita Suzune sat with her back to the entrance, her posture as straight as a cedar tree; Ayanokoji Kiyotaka sat beside her, expressionless, his gaze as flat as if he were watching fallen leaves outside.

Uesugi Hara chose an empty table a seat away and ordered a black coffee.

The moment the porcelain cup touched the table, I heard Ayanokoji speak, his voice neither high nor low, drifting perfectly across the space: "Like that, to others, we might look like a couple..."

He didn't even lift his eyelids as he said it, as if he were discussing the weather. Opposite him, Horikita slowly turned her head, her brows slightly furrowed, her eyes clearly reading "What kind of nonsensical thing are you saying," yet she didn't speak, merely looking at him in silent default, as if waiting for a reasonable explanation—or rather, waiting for him to walk back his own absurd statement.

Ayanokoji met her gaze, paused for two seconds, and then actually nodded to himself: "I suppose no one would think that."

"Pfft—" The black coffee Uesugi Hara had just sipped nearly sprayed out; he hurriedly covered his mouth with the back of his hand, though a fit of muffled coughing still escaped his throat.

He coughed, head bowed, unable to stop himself from muttering internally: With Ayanokoji's flat, monotonous tone and his self-contained logic, how did he manage to make such a statement sound like he was reading from a textbook? If anyone else had said that, they would have been glared under the table by Horikita long ago. It wasn't this funny when I watched the anime in my past life, was it?

When he looked up, he happened to catch Horikita's sweeping gaze, which carried a hint of annoyance at being disturbed.

Uesugi Hara immediately raised his coffee cup to shield half his face, pretending he had just been scalded—the bitterness of the black coffee was enough to mask the awkwardness of his near-outburst of laughter.

Just then, the third protagonist—Kushida Kikyo—arrived.

Kushida Kikyo stood at the door, clutching her bag, the curls at her hair tips softened by the breeze. When she saw the two by the window, her eyes immediately curved into crescents: "Horikita-san! What a coincidence! Ayanokoji-kun is here too!"

As she spoke, she naturally pulled out the chair beside them and sat down, her tone as light as sunshine: "Do you two come here often?"

"It's a coincidence today," Ayanokoji's reply remained concise.

"I see..." Kushida Kikyo gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her voice softening, "Actually, I always come here alone..."

"I'm leaving." Horikita suddenly stood up, interrupting Kushida, the legs of her chair scraping against the floor with a sharp sound.

"Didn't you just get here?" Ayanokoji looked up at her, a rare hint of hesitation appearing on his expressionless face, as if confirming whether she was serious.

Horikita turned sideways, one hand on her hip, her eyes fixed directly on Kushida: "With Kushida here, there's no need for me, is there?"

"No," Ayanokoji replied immediately, his tone flat but clear, "Kushida-san and I are just classmates."

"My relationship with you is the same." Horikita turned back to look at him, her tone devoid of emotion, yet it felt like a needle pricking through something.

After saying this, she turned to Kushida, her brows arching more noticeably: "Besides, you make me very uncomfortable. Stop pretending. What exactly do you want?"

"Oh, stop it!" Kushida's smile stiffened for a moment, her fingertips tightening around her bag strap, her voice laced with the panic of being exposed: "It really was just a coincidence, why would you say that, Horikita-san..."

Uesugi Hara's hand holding the coffee cup paused. He looked up at Ayanokoji; even though that face remained expressionless, his brows straight and his lips unmoving, Uesugi Hara somehow caught a hint of irrepressible "speechlessness" in his slightly lowered eyelashes—as if he were thinking, "How is this situation getting more and more absurd?"

He lowered his head and took a sip of coffee, smiling inwardly: It seems that no matter how good someone is at acting, they can't help but break character when faced with this kind of scene.

After wasting time on boring drama, the moment of confrontation finally arrived.

"Horikita-san, please be my friend!" Kushida pressed her small, clenched fists against her chin, her eyes sparkling, her tone filled with a desperate, all-or-nothing earnestness, even the tips of her hair seeming to hold a curve of anticipation.

Horikita didn't even lift an eyelid, her voice as cold as if it had just been pulled from ice water: "I would like you to stop bothering me. I won't cause trouble for the class, and I have no interest in engaging in unnecessary social interactions."

"But you're always alone..." Kushida Kikyo slowly lowered her hands, her shoulders slumping, frustration spreading across her face like mist: "Don't you feel lonely? When everyone else is making friends, isn't it sad to be by yourself?"

"I have never felt that being alone is lonely." Horikita picked up her bag strap, her fingertips turning white from the pressure: "On the contrary, dealing with these things is a waste of time. Everything you've said has made me very unhappy."

As soon as she finished speaking, she turned and left, her bag tracing a sharp arc behind her.

"Do you really think this is okay?" Ayanokoji suddenly spoke, his voice sounding a bit deeper than before: "Not intending to make friends with anyone means you'll be walking alone for these next three years."

Horikita's footsteps paused at the door, and the wind chime gave a light ring. With her back to them, her voice drifted through the air, devoid of inflection yet carrying an unquestionable certainty: "This kind of life has been going on for nine years, it doesn't matter."

She paused, as if recalling something from further back, and as she resumed walking, she added: "If you include the time before that, it's been even longer."

The door was pushed open and closed again; the lingering echo of the wind chime hadn't yet faded. The shop was left with only Ayanokoji staring expressionlessly at his coffee, and Kushida, who had been holding her hem, unable to lift her face for a long time.

"I'm sorry, Ayanokoji-kun." Kushida's fingertips, gripping her bag strap, turned white, her voice dropping: "It's all my fault for making you uncomfortable with Horikita-san too."

Ayanokoji's fingertip paused on the rim of his empty cup, and when he looked up, his tone remained flat: "No, don't worry about it."

Kushida stared at the wood grain of the table in silence for a few seconds, then suddenly looked up, her eyes still stained with lingering grievance, yet tinged with unwillingness: "Is there really no way for me to become friends with her? Even though I've tried so hard..."

Seeing that this drama had finally reached its curtain call and that lingering any longer wouldn't stir up any more waves, Uesugi Hara finished the last of his black coffee; the dregs settled at the bottom of the cup like the unspoken aftertaste of the conversation. The breeze he stirred up as he stood caused the menu pages on the table to flutter slightly.

He had no intention of greeting anyone—Ayanokoji had likely noticed him but wouldn't initiate a conversation; Kushida was still trapped in her own emotions and might not be able to spare the attention; as for Horikita, she had long since vanished.

The wind chime rang again as he pushed the door open, the tone much like when he arrived. Uesugi Hara looked up at the sky; the sunlight was softer than before, just right for a slow walk back. He felt in his pocket, where the wrapper of that strawberry candy remained, warmed by his body heat.

"Finally, something interesting," he whispered to the air, his footsteps light as he merged into the flow of people on the road. "I hope tonight brings me some surprises."