The final half-day of the clan preparatory course had no formal farewell.
Takuya said it was not the last time they would meet, only the end of this stage of the course. Kiyo was clearly dissatisfied after hearing that.
"If there's no formal farewell, should my rice ball get one?"
Morita Yu set his schoolbag beneath the desk. "You can discuss that privately with your rice ball."
"I already ate it."
"Then your relationship ended very thoroughly."
The old classroom was messier than usual. Not because anyone had deliberately made a mess, but because everyone was packing up their things. The basin in the corner had been carried away, the old backing paper from the paper lanterns had been tucked into Mine's notebook, and the leftover bag of lime from white-line training had been returned to the cabinet. Kiyo dug out half a wood chip from his desk and insisted it had witnessed a great deal. Morita Yu said he had merely forgotten to throw it away.
Che's desk was spread with things too.
Copied notices, assessment receipts, stamped backs from completed checks, little notes, self-records, and several route sheets he had meant to throw away but had not. Once there were enough papers, they somehow developed an air of being important. Che watched them for a while, then sorted them into three piles.
To bring tomorrow.
To leave at home.
To submit to the master record.
Kiyo leaned over. "Anything edible?"
"Paper."
"Forget it. I'm not taking risks today."
On the other side, Zhen Shu was packing up his paper-lantern records. His note saying "Too rushed. Paper wrinkled. Hands hot." had been pressed very flat, though the word "wrinkled" was still ugly. Keisuke glanced at it as he passed but said nothing. Zhen Shu noticed at once and immediately