78Beauty is skin deep, as expected
By Icura
~o~
Chapter 4
~o~
The moment I opened my shoe locker, I saw something different inside. Having spent more than a year just seeing either my slippers or shoes in there, I had an intense familiarity with it that could be said to be on the same level of putting on my shirt. Well, even if I didn't have such familiarity, it was hard not to notice the pink letter envelope sitting on top of my slippers. Taking it out, I examined it.
On the front was my name, written in a stylistic cursive style that put curves at each end of the kanji. Flipping it over, I saw that it was sealed by a glittery heart sticker. It was obviously a challenge letter.
No, of course, it was a love letter, or so I thought, but then I did a double-take. I hadn't thought of this being a possibility, but I hadn't really thought about it at all. So could this really be one? Yes, it must be. Therefore, this was a love letter, wasn't it? Yes, this was indeed a love letter. With so many mental confirmations, even I had to admit that this was indeed a love letter. So then, why did I feel so little for it?
As I stared in detached fascination, I turned it this way and that, as if I could somehow find out its contents just by the way the letter shook in the envelope. This would be the point where, if I had friends, they would come up to me, slap me on the shoulder, and exclaim their profound jealousy, distracting me from this awkward situation. Since I had no one like that, that obviously didn't happen. Instead, I was doing a solo job of distracting myself with my errant thoughts. It was such a well-done job that I would be tempted to put it on my future resume. Well, there was no point in wasting any more time.
Taking my keys out of my pocket, I popped my house key under the envelope's fold and dragged it across, peeling off the heart sticker. With the envelope open, I pulled out a letter that smelled of perfume and unfolded it.
Under the Sakura tree at lunch time.
Those were the only words on it. A single sentence that denoted a meeting place. The writing was elegant in a way, but that only made me more wary. Many would just come running to the place. However, for me, it was impossible for me to not be suspicious. Even if this happened before I removed my mask, I would be thinking, "What bet did she lose?"
There were many reasons to write a letter to a person, such as not wanting to inconvenience that person with a confession out of the blue or to make the actual event more private. However, this was different. The premise was important to establish familiarity, but there was none of that here. The premise of a novel was important. If it was written like this, who would even bother to crack the cover open? The fact that there was only a single sentence spoke much of her arrogance, and even if I were to put that aside, that place was an issue too. I knew what Sakura tree she was writing about; there was a particularly famous one just to the side of the building. That was because the sight and scenery was eye-catching enough that it made it the ideal confession area.
That was exactly the point. It was already well-known as a place where people would go to confess to someone they like, such that there were always some pair of eyes on that area, ready to spread the gossip throughout the entire school, whether or not a confession worked or failed. That meant she was an attention whore as well, or at least someone who was trying to force a positive response from me through peer pressure. It was hard to reject a confession with an audience in attendance, like when a person asks another person for their hand in marriage in a restaurant, it would be hard to say no with the rest of the restaurant diners watching. The only other option was to say no and make a run for it, which was made all the harder if they drove you there.
The smell of the letter itself was distracting. Instead of perfume that rubbed off from her hand while writing, it seemed like she literally sprayed the letter with a puff from her perfume bottle. It was too powerful of a scent to ignore, and that would make it a hassle to even keep the letter. In fact, it was liable to overpower the smell of the trash can which was where I tossed it. It was unfortunate, but I now had that scent on my hand which meant I had to make my way to the washroom.
Some people—probably Hayama—would say that I shouldn't do that. That I should reject her in person. However, if she wasn't going to put in effort for her letter, I didn't see why I needed to bend over backwards for her. It was an inconvenience to waste a large portion of my lunch time for someone like that, especially when she plays into the rumors afterwards and portray me in a bad light, despite anything I would say. I didn't have the security or backing that Hayama had to deal with that so it was better not to get involved at all.
Returning to my shoe locker, I reached in and pulled out my slippers. I took off my shoes and put on the slippers. Just when I was about to place my shoes into the locker, I noticed something in the very back. Reaching in with my free hand, I pulled out a crumpled, crisp-white envelope. Straightening it out, I found my name on the front of it, though the handwriting was obviously different. More rougher and less elegant. I could only assume the envelope had been crumpled and tossed to the back when the owner of the first envelope placed hers in. Tearing it open, I took out the letter, unfolded it, and read it.
You're mine. You're mine. You're mine. You're mine. You're mine. You're mine. You're mine. You're mine. You're mine. You're mine. You're mine. You're mine. You're mine. You're mine. You're mine.
That single sentence repeated from the top of the page to the bottom, blotting out most of the white paper with the black ink stains. There were blotches of smeared ink and what looked like dry saliva or tears. My fingers pressed harder than I intended, rubbing a part of the words on my fingertips. Taking a deep breath, I silently folded the letter back up and inserted it back into the envelope. Walking solemnly over to the trash can, I dropped it in. With that done, I speedily walked over to my locker, shut it, and walked in the direction of my classroom.
It was only when I was a good distance away that I finally released my breath.
What was that?! Scary! That was scary!
No name, no location, nothing. It was practically a cursed letter, and I could feel the obsession just leaking from the writing. If this was an anime, it would have an ominous aura emanating from it.
I stopped walking. Then I turned around and began walking back.
If anything, I was a monster of logic, not superstition. The fact that it had been written in a heightened emotional state was evident by the writing itself. The further down the repetition, the more that the writing began to deviate and become malformed. That meant that it was written in one go. If there were signs of rest, then lines on each kanji should have become refreshed, returning to the lines at the start of the document. The fact that it didn't was telling, and there could be more that I had missed.
How could I remember all that detail? If there was one thing I could count on, it was my memory. Despite that, my memory wasn't perfect. I knew my own flaws well enough to know that I needed to go back and find that letter.
Reaching the shoe lockers, I walked past them to the trash can. Pulling off the lid, I looked into it.
"…it's not here."
No matter where my eyes searched, I couldn't find them in the bundle of trash. In fact, it had only been a minute or so at most so it should have still been on the top layer. Just in case, I shook the trash can, making the contents move from one side to the other. Despite that, nothing that looked like an envelope popped up. In fact, the first pink envelope wasn't here either.
"I couldn't be imagining them."
There was no need to reach my hand in. It couldn't have slipped through the space between the paper towels and discarded graded test papers; the colors were distinct enough that I would have spotted them regardless. Then, why wasn't it here?
This wasn't one of those horror stories where the cursed object you left behind vanishes. However, just in case, I went over to my shoe locker and opened it up. My shoes and nothing else was in there. As an extra precaution, I opened up my school bag. After shuffling around some of the notebooks, textbooks, and school supplies, I found nothing like an envelope in there either.
This was fruitless. I wanted to search some more, but it was time for class. With mild reluctance, I left the area and went in the direction of my classroom.
~o~
Putting aside the horror scene in the morning, nothing much else of consequence happened. History and literature were easy classes to do while I slept through the math and science courses since that had nothing to do with me or my future. When lunch time came around, I went to the part of the hallway that had a view of the tennis court and ate my lunch in relative peace and quiet while being healed by the sight of Totsuka playing tennis in the sun. I hadn't really had a chance to talk with Totsuka except a few greetings because they were training for an inter-school tournament pretty soon, it did make me lonely. Maybe I should stop by their practice sometime? A five minute break wouldn't throw them off their training too much, would it?
Just like that, that period of time passed back in a blur. The fact that it was a blur just meant that nothing interesting happened. The fact that nothing interesting happened just meant that my daily life had been preserved today. Days about nothing that amounted to nothing. As another class period came to an end, I nestled into my arms and pretended to sleep on my desk. Through this method, it was easy to absorb gossip and dark secrets through osmosis that I could later use to my advantage.
Or at least, that was my thinking at the time back in middle school. I had never once used any of the knowledge I gained, and it turned out to be a waste of my brain space. These days, I intentionally chose not to take in any information, letting it drone out like background noise.
However, there were some things I couldn't ignore.
"Hey, hey, did you hear? Mika got stood up. She was standing under the Sakura tree for the whole lunch period."
"Really?! Wait, I heard Hikigaya tore up a love letter this morning. Do you think…?"
"Oh my god, that's totally it!" There was a chorus of giggles.
"Serves her right." Another giggle. "She thinks she's all that."
"I know, right?"
There was another chorus of giggles before they moved on to another topic. Of course, their new topic concerning a new bakery didn't concern me in the slightest. Well, slightest, it did. In fact, I probably should try that bakery in the future if their egg tarts were as good as they were saying they were.
While I did feel somewhat bad for leaving her standing there the whole time, it was still the result of her own efforts. If she couldn't put in the effort to devise a more appealing premise, why did I need to spend time on her story? Putting more work into it would have at least caused me to go out there and politely reject her, though in the end, I would still have to reject her. I had placed the lie with Yuigahama so I had to live the lie. It wasn't like it was forever though. The Service club was still unstable with Yukinoshita's issues, but sooner or later, things would get better. At that point, I would have to answer Yuigahama's question more honestly, with the truth of that moment in the future. I didn't know what that truth was, but it would be the one at that point in time. Therefore, there was no point in thinking about something that would eventually come in that future.
There was time to think and time to wonder. By then, I should be able to figure out what I wanted. "Should be" being the keywords. I wasn't so arrogant to think that I would come up with a definite answer; I wasn't some shounen protagonist with a straightforward and stubborn nature. In fact, was anyone like that? Hayama certainly wasn't. The closest was Tobe, but he would degrade the entire trope. In fact, I wasn't sure there was any category that Tobe wouldn't degrade simply by existing in it. He was a good guy, though. That consolation prize should be good enough to keep him happy until the end of time.
I opened one eye and glanced toward Hayama's group. Like everyday, they were chatting happily about absolutely nothing. Yuigahama was back in form, cheerfully smiling while offering her own comments. Even though we had greeted each other in the morning, there had been nothing else besides that. The rest of their group was normal like everyday with Ebina, Yuigahama, and Miura chatting off to the side while Hayama, Tobe, and the other two background characters laughing about this or that. It was uncomfortable even listening to them, though they were invariable louder than any other group.
My eye eventually drifted to the side where Totsuka was sitting alone with a pencil cutely dangling from his mouth. He was concentrating on holding up and reading a textbook, but from the diagrams and pictures that I could see, it was one about tennis. It looked like he was reading on a part about the angles, physics, and calculation of a return shot, though all of that was beyond me. Math was never my forte in any case, even though I now felt like learning it just so I could tutor him. That frustrated expression on his face was just so endearing that I wanted to see it up close and take a dozen pictures of it. Well, any expression of Totsuka would be Totsuka-cute. If there is a Totsuka, then there is a Totsuka or it wouldn't be a Totsuka, wouldn't it, Totsuka?
Self-diagnosing myself as being inflicted with Totsuka-itis, I endeavored to shut my remaining eye to cure the condition, but the cuteness of Totsuka opposed my efforts. After a hard-fought battle, I barely managed a Pyhrric victory and closed my eye, resuming my state of pretend sleep.
Eventually, I really did fall asleep.
~o~
I could feel fingers rifling through my hair, brushing it to the side. It was a foreign enough sensation that I was startled awake, opening my slightly blurry eyes in time to see the hand retract.
"Ah, you're awake?"
Blinking my eyes and raising my head, I saw Yuigahama standing in front of me.
"Did I sleep for that long?" Rising up, I stretched my arms and yawned. The classroom around me was empty besides the two of us.
"A little…"
Taking out my smartphone, I glanced at the time. It was thirty minutes after class had ended. I looked up at her.
"Ah ha ha." The nervous laugh came out of her as she averted her gaze to the side. "You…you looked like you needed more rest…"
This time, I was the one who had to avert my eyes.
"I…I see…"
I didn't voice my unspoken question of whether she was here the whole time; I already knew the answer to that. If I was a naive shounen protagonist, then I could have been dense enough to ignore the implications. However, I wasn't. All I had to do was place myself in her shoes, and I would be able to see that it was even possible that I could have been entranced by her sleeping face and lean in close for a kiss. Of course, the possibility of the girl waking up and crying sexual harassment that would lead to stringent punishment and perhaps expulsion stopped me way before that would ever happen. See? The first part was the sweetness of youth which made you careless when the bitterness of reality made itself apparent in the second part. Romantic comedy? What was that?
Should I pretend that she hadn't been here the whole time and that she hadn't brushed through my hair with her fingers right when I woke up? Well, that decision point had already been decided yesterday. The only I could do now was keep to my choice. What choice was that? Stalling.
"We should get going to club," I said. "Yukinoshita is probably worrying about you."
"She worries about you too, Hikki."
I simply nodded since I didn't want to argue. On some levels, I did know that Yukinoshita cared for me. However, it was on a superfluous level. As we drew further away from each other, even that would disappear with time. That was the nature of these superficial relationships known as friendship. However, in spite of my thoughts, wasn't that what I was trying to prevent? By rejecting Yuigahama, I was trying to preserve these bonds and connections, wasn't I? Or was I just trying to stop Yuigahama from getting hurt? But then that meant that I was still hurting her through my rejection.
I frowned in consternation.
What was I even doing?
"Hikki, you're the one who said we have to hurry, but you're the one wasting time."
That I was. Picking up my school bag, I made my way with her to the classroom's exit. As much as going around and around in circular logic was fun—no, it wasn't—the world wasn't going to wait for me to do so. If only I could stop the gears of time, but of course, I was clearly not vampiric enough for that. While we were on that subject, I would like to shoot laser beams out of my eyes too.
There were not that many people milling about as those that were still here were already at their various clubs. Everyone else already went home or went out with their friends. Either way, that made the hallway more emptier than usual, and it made it all the more apparent the silence between us. Some would be uncomfortable with that; I knew Tobe would have spouted out a bunch of nonsense by now. Yuigahama wasn't as bad, but I could sense her nervousness even without looking. The way her footsteps paused here or there, or the slight movement of her hands and fingers that I saw out of the corner of my eye.
Of course, it wasn't in my nature to break the silence.
Despite that, we arrived at the clubroom in short order, and when we entered, we found Yukinoshita sitting in her chair with her cup of tea on the table, next to her closed and bookmarked novel. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to be relaxing by the open window. However, once we took a step in, she opened her eyes and looked at us.
"Yahallo, Yukinon!"
"Yuigahama." Yukinoshita glanced over at me. "Hikigaya."
While Yuigahama bounced up to her, regaining her enthusiastic cheer, I wasn't as oblivious. There were several things to note in this scene. Despite the fact that tea was best when it was warm, there was steam emanating from the cup despite it being nearly full to the brim. Her book being on the desk wasn't a noteworthy fact. No, it was the bookmark that caught my attention. I didn't pay attention yesterday because I left pretty quickly to go meet up with Yuigahama, but the bookmark in her book hadn't changed places since a couple of days ago. Not many people would have noticed, but again, if there was one thing that I could take pride in, it was my memory.
While they were engaged in conversation, I walked up to the table and pressed two of my fingers against the side of the teapot. It was lukewarm at best. Thirty or forty minutes would be enough time to reach this temperature, but that would mean that she made it when she arrived at the clubroom. I took one of the paper cups that was stacked on the table in the corner and picked up the teapot by the handle, pouring myself a cup. The weight of the teapot and the liquid inside was rather heavy, enough that—before pouring my own cup—there probably had only been one teacup's portion that had been poured out. Picking up my paper cup, I took a sip.
It was lukewarm like I thought, and if my cup was only this warm, then Yukinoshita's cup was probably stale and cold by now.
In conclusion, something was bothering Yukinoshita. While all the evidence led to this, it didn't tell me the underlying causes. What was bothering Yukinoshita, and what was she feeling? I couldn't decipher that; it was impossible for me to do so, but I had a few guesses. It probably had something to do with Yuigahama and I, not that there was much I could do with that.
At this rate, maybe I should become a detective. Though, even with all these observations, evidence, and conclusions, it was pointless if I didn't use them for anything besides satisfying my curiosity. It simply brought me back to the beginning, as if I hadn't figured these things out. That just made this entire endeavor more pointless than preventing Komachi from reading my text messages and saying, "Onii-chan, why is your text message history empty?" You already knew the answer to that question, sister of mine. Was that comment necessary?!
Leave me alone already…
Since I was already at it, I supposed that I should pour the other two a cup of tea. Taking the lone teacup, I walked over to the sink and poured it out. Since I doubted she really took a sip, I simply gave it a quick rinse to wash out the leftover drops of tea. Taking an extra teacup for Yuigahama, I walked back over to the table and was about to pick up the teapot to pour them a cup when Yukinoshita rose from her seat.
"Leave that. It's no good anymore." She walked over to the table and took the teapot. "I'll prepare a new batch."
"It's just a little cold. I think it's still fine to drink."
"I wouldn't expect a loner to know the difference," she said as she began walking over to the sink. "Tea is too much of a social activity for you."
"Tea is just a type of drink. I drink them on occasions when coffee isn't available."
"That just shows how little you know."
Well, she wasn't wrong. If you asked me the difference between coffee, then I could go on a fifty page speech, but tea was out of my area of expertise. It was like asking a person who only ate instant ramen for their recommendation on ramen restaurants. They would be like, "Restaurants? Don't you just pour hot water into it?" Besides that, I was more knowledgeable about boba tea drinks rather than regular tea. That was more modern than traditional tea anyways.
"Wipe that look off your face, Hikipeasant. Any other tea derivatives that you are thinking of is not considered a valid alternative."
"If you are reading my mind, then stop reading my mind, okay?"
"It's not hard to tell what you're thinking."
"It's not my fault. I have lost years of keeping a straight face by wearing a mask for all this time," I retorted. Until I caught up to what I was saying. "Oh wait, that is my fault then."
While our banter was going on, Yukinoshita poured water into the kettle and started heating it on the stove. The teapot had been emptied out and rinsed, sitting at the side where it had already been wiped down and left to dry. Yuigahama was happily watching our interaction from her seat, but she didn't seem inclined to join in, oddly enough.
"If you recognize your faults, then please take the time to make the appropriate changes, especially to your personality."
"This topic has nothing to do with my face now!"
"It has everything to do with it," she said. "If your personality isn't rotten, then your expression will not be rotten as well. This is called prevention."
"That solution is worse than the problem."
"I think it's an apt and efficient solution, Hikiproblem."
"Hey! I'm not a problem," I said indignantly. "I'm not causing any trouble. In fact, you could say that I am self-conscious enough to not make problems for anyone so that makes me a productive member of society."
"You need to do far more than that to become one," Yukinoshita said with a sigh. Once the whistling from the kettle started, she turned her attention away to take it off the stove. She took the time to drop in tea leaves into the teapot before pouring in the boiling water. "I assume that Yuigahama will have a lot of work ahead of her reshaping your rotten personality."
Yuigahama perked up at her name.
"What do you mean, Yukinon?"
Yukinoshita gave off another sigh as she brought over the teapot, setting it on the table to let the tea leaves soak in.
"It's meaningless to hide your relationship."
"Wait, Yukinon, t-t-that's…"
Unable to stay silent in this two person comedy show, I interceded.
"There's no relationship."
"Y-yeah." Yuigahama's voice lowered for her next words. "I got rejected…"
"Is that so…?" Yukinoshita asked in a dubious voice before turning her gaze to me. "I wouldn't have expected you to reject anyone."
"That's an incredibly low expectation," I said in a deadpan.
"You have prior history."
"H-Hikki isn't like that!" Yuigahama chimed in support of me.
While that was nice of her—as expected of her—I did indeed have a traumatic history that I didn't want to remember. If circumstances had been normal, it was very well possible that I would have accepted the first confession, which would have been Yuigahama's. However, the external circumstances that prevented me from accepting it was sitting right in front of me, waiting for the tea leaves in the teapot to soak in. The subject in question, Yukinoshita, looked up at my gaze and immediately covered her chest, leaning away.
"Your newfound appearance gives you far more confidence than expected, pervert-gaya."
"Didn't we already do this when I first joined the club…?"
"Hikki isn't like that either!"
Thanks for the defense, Yuigahama, but your timing was a little late.
"Yuigahama," Yukinoshita said. "It's best to relearn the basics every so often. That's why remedial lessons are necessary for him."
"Oooh! I see."
Don't sound so convinced! More than that, Yuigahama knows what remedial means?!
While I was reeling from the world-breaking revelation that Yuigahama may be more smarter than she let on, there was a knock on the door. As per the usual, Yukinoshita glanced toward it and told whoever was behind the door to come in. Within moments, the door slid open and pair of dainty feet stepped into the room. I wouldn't say that she was gaudy, but one look at her lightly styled make-up gave me the sense that she knew her way around the intricacies of fashion. Underneath the standard coat, she wore a pink cardigan on top of her white shirt, giving off a feminine appeal from the stark difference that one piece of extra clothing made. It emphasized her features, and along with her shoulder-length brownish hair, it gave off this cutesy feeling as if I was looking at Komachi.
The little sister was basically the feeling that you needed to protect her and waste all your pocket change on her despite the fact that you know that she's using you as an ATM machine. As the brother of the greatest little sister in the world, I had been subject to this numerous times, enough that I could say with an one hundred percent guarantee that I would waste all my money on her again. It immediately put me on guard.
I could see Yukinoshita's eyes turned cold as she stared at the newcomer. As for Yuigahama…
"Ah, yahallo, Iroha!" With a cheerful smile, Yuigahama raised her hand in greeting. "It's been ages. What are you doing here?"
"Yui-senpai, hello!" The cutesy girl waved cheerfully back, though not before gracing Yukinoshita and I with a cute smile and wink. As to what that smile and wink meant, I had no clue. "I heard you were in the Service club so I came to check it out. I thought it'd look more like a host club."
Yuigahama was about to answer, but Yukinoshita cut in.
"Is there an actual reason you're here?" Yukinoshita asked curtly. The ensuing silence lasted only a moment before Yuigahama got over her shock and took a step in between them.
"Now, now, Yukinon." Yuigahama was motioning with her hands in a placating manner. As if inspiration struck her, she bounced on the spot and clapped her hands. "Let me introduce you. This is Isshiki Iroha, a first year and the manager of the soccer club. Yukinon over here is Yukinon—I mean, Yukinoshita Yukino from Class 2J, president of the Service club and super smart. Like really, really smart. And this here is Hikigaya Hachiman from Class 2F."
Oi, why was my introduction so much shorter?
"It's nice to meet you." Isshiki bowed her head.
Yukinoshita bowed her head politely in return, and I did similarly, though in a more casual manner.
"Now then, I actually do have another reason for coming here." Isshiki placed her hand in the pocket of her skirt, quickly pulling out her smartphone. Unlike her clean and cute appearance, her smartphone had a variety of accessories and chains attached to it as well as being pink and decorated in some kind of sparkling gems or sprinkles. I wasn't quite sure which. With the fingers of a veteran, she quickly slid her fingers across the screen in a pattern that reminded me of a mage drawing an arcane symbol in the air. However, a fireball didn't come into existence. Instead, she flipped around the screen so we could see. The instant my eyes fell on it, I tensed.
"A document? You're…mine…?" Yukinoshita read it while squinting her eyes. The fact that she could still make the words out from that distance was amazing enough. In fact, why didn't you just get up and come closer like what Yuigahama did?
"That looks like a curse letter," Yuigahama said, stating the obvious.
"Correct, Yui-senpai! It was addressed to…" Isshiki turned slightly and pointed at me. "…senpai!"
When did I become your senpai?
More importantly, as all their eyes turned toward me, I—for once—was glad for my deadened fish eyes because what did surprised fish eyes look like? It looked like normal fish eyes.
"…I got it this morning, but I threw it away," I mumbled in response, turning my eyes away. Even with some experience, being the center of attention was still hard enough that I could feel sweat gathering on my brow.
"This was on my class's LINE chat group, but it came from some other class's LINE," Isshiki said. "Everybody's saying you got a crazy stalker now."
"That's scary!" Of course, it was Yuigahama stating the obvious again.
"That's why I came, Yui-senpai. They're saying that you might become a victim if you stick too close to senpai."
"Ehhhhh?"
While Yuigahama was speaking with Isshiki, Yukinoshita was staring down at her own phone with a serious look. She was probably checking her class's LINE chatroom. Wait a minute, was I the only one not invited to my own class's LINE chat group? That was blatant discrimination. Well, I wouldn't have joined it anyways. If I had any inclination to, I would have asked Yuigahama after my chat with Hayama. As it was, LINE was a disease. The more you look at the conversations going on in there, the more you would feel like participating until you were checking your phone every few minutes while resisting the urge. Eventually, you would lose and then post something like, "I agree." Everyone would then be like, "LOL, who's this?" or "Can you not butt in?" And then you would be hit by a wave of regret at their negative responses, enough that you would stop checking the chat because it would bring up bad memories, eventually leading to the point where you would uninstall the program entirely and languish in your regrets at ever even trying to participate in a conversation with the popular students.
Source? Me.
Trauma? Also me.
Therapy? Don't look at me.
In any case, they were all blowing it out of proportions. If I had been getting it for a week, then maybe there would be some worries, but I had only gotten it once, just this morning. However, I knew how the rumor mill worked. It took 75 days for a rumor to die down, and anything could be latched on to become a rumor, even if it was categorically false. It just had to be interesting and spread by a few people. In a sense, all I had gotten was one letter, and it didn't include any threats. Just ominous writing that could have been written by anyone in a moment of passion or for revenge to put me ill at ease. If I thought of it that way, then this could just be considered a prank at this point in time. Unless, of course, it continues.
"Don't worry!" Isshiki clapped twice, catching all of our attention. "I have a solution!"
Everyone looked questioningly at her.
"All we need to do is lure the culprit out," Isshiki said with a saccharine smile. "Therefore…"
She paused dramatically for a moment before pointing her finger at me with triumph on her face.
"Go on a date with me, senpai!"
Of course, I refused.
~o~
Author's Note: Well, actually, I have an odd revelation about this story. Writing this story feels like lying on my bed, looking up at my ceiling for hours at a time. Before I write a chapter, when I write a chapter, and after I write a chapter, my mind is blank. It's just…blank. I'm not particularly happy or sad with what I have written; I just feel nothing. I start with nothing, I end with nothing, and I'm left with nothing. It's not particularly hard to write. I just write whatever comes to mind, but then I get this feeling like, "What am I even doing?"
