Aoki Haruka lent out his short pencil before the third class.
The one borrowing it was Yamada, the child whose name had nearly been read wrong on assessment day. Yamada sat on the other side of the classroom. His pencil had snapped, the break ugly, splinters sticking up. Holding half a pencil, he stood in the aisle with a flushed face, not knowing whom to ask.
Kiyo had originally wanted to offer his own pencil, but after feeling around for a while, he pulled out a rice ball pick.
Morita Yu looked at the pick. "Why are you carrying that?"
"A memento."
"Put it away."
Aoki Haruka lowered his head and looked at his two pencils. One long, one short. The long pencil was easy to write with; the short one was the pencil he had always hidden away. Che sat beside him and saw his fingers linger between the two for a long time.
In the end, Aoki Haruka handed over the short pencil.
"This one works," he said.
Yamada took it and let out a breath. "Thanks."
When the short pencil left Aoki Haruka's hand, his shoulders tensed. It was not regret. It was more like something had been taken from his sleeve and exposed to the light. Kiyo watched closely, unusually silent.
When Teacher Mizuno entered the room, she happened to see Yamada holding Aoki Haruka's short pencil.
"Borrowing a pencil?" she asked.
Yamada immediately stood up. "Yes. Mine broke."
Aoki Haruka stood as well. "I lent it to him."
"Write it down," Teacher Mizuno said. "Lender, borrower, reason, return time. Return it after class."
Yamada froze. "Write it down now?"
"Now."
So before the third class, they added a pencil-borrowing record. Kiyo watched enviously. "Can we write one for borrowing rice balls too?"
Morita Yu said,