There wasn’t much to say about Hiroto Tachibana’s weekend: eating, sleeping, and rushing his manuscript.
Glancing at the time, it was 10:00 PM Sunday night; his weekend had simply slipped away like that.
Tomorrow would mark the final week of the month, meaning he would be able to entirely clear all of his outstanding debts by next week.
He patted his pocket; those two bars of compressed emergency rations were still securely packed inside.
Leaving them on his person without eating them was honestly a bit torturous.
A new week, Monday.
Exactly seven days had elapsed since the room incident.
Following that event, Hiroto Tachibana and Marin Kitagawa had virtually shared no further communication.
Marin had passed by the International Culture Class several times, but she never managed to spot Hiroto’s figure.
When she asked his classmates, even they were clueless regarding his whereabouts.
This morning.
At the stairwell landing.
Marin spotted that familiar figure with a single glance.
He was standing right at the entrance of the stairs, his head lowered over his phone as his fingers tapped away rapidly across the screen.
The lines of his profile were noticeably sharper than before, and his hair had been cut into a clean, crisp short style.
Standing just behind the corner, her steps instinctively slowed down.
Her emotions were profoundly complicated.
Why was she being so incredibly awkward?
It was so strange.
She wanted to approach him and strike up a conversation, yet she had absolutely no idea what to say.
Should she open with a casual “Good morning”?
That felt far too deliberate.
Should she ask “How have you been lately”?
That felt even weirder.
They didn’t share the kind of relationship where they could just casually shoot the breeze.
Furthermore…
in the aftermath of that event, she was the one who had explicitly uttered the words, “Don’t speak to me.”
Marin leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath.
Since it was difficult to speak or communicate due to that awkward status, wouldn’t it be better to just drop it?
She and Hiroto Tachibana were simply classmates.
And since they were classmates, wasn’t it perfectly normal to exchange a greeting?
Yes, perfectly normal.
Once she finished constructing this psychological justification for herself, she turned to Yui and the others beside her.
“Um, I have a quick matter to attend to, you guys head to the classroom first.”
”Eh?
What matter?” Yui Yuigahama poked her head out curiously.
”Just a minor thing, I’ll be right there.”
With a smile, Marin managed to send them on their way.
Only after they had walked a fair distance away did she turn her focus back toward the stairwell.
Grasping her backpack straps tightly, she was just about to take her first step forward when she suddenly saw Ikuyo Kita materialize out of nowhere.
Kita jogged over to Hiroto’s side, naturally patting his shoulder.
“Tachibana-kun!
Good morning!”
Kita’s voice was bright and crisp, echoing cleanly through the hallway.
Hiroto turned around.
“Morning.”
”Thank you so much for the band matter,” Kita pressed her hands together, her eyes curving into crescent moons.
“If it weren’t for the help from you and Ryo-senpai’s group, I still wouldn’t even know that what I bought was actually a bass and not a guitar.”
Hearing this, Hiroto had a rough grasp of how things went.
He had merely made a single phone call over the weekend without personally participating.
From the looks of it, the issue had been resolved; Kita had likely returned to Kessoku Band to take up the role of the vocalist.
”No need to thank me, it’s fine as long as things ended in a successful resolution.”
”Also, I am not actually a member of that club.”
”You’re actually not?” Kita blinked.
”Correct.
It’s a highly convoluted tale; I too am being oppressed over there.
I am required to sit in that room and endure Yukinoshita’s inhumane glares.”
”T-that sounds terrifying!” Kita covered her mouth.
“Then are you just resigned to this, Tachibana-kun?
Exactly who would issue such a request anyway?
And for Yukinoshita-san to actually agree to it?”
Hiroto shook his head, pointing a single finger meaningfully toward the ceiling.
”Ah—!” Kita配合地 covered her mouth, feigning shock.
“I-it’s actually like that?”
”So let’s not discuss this matter any further,” Hiroto waved his hand.
“By the way, how did the weekend go?
Was it convoluted?”
Given the personalities of the band members, he figured there wouldn’t be any real conflicts anyway.
A genius, a severe social anxiety case, an angel…
He cast a glance at Kita.
And a sun.
”Ah, the process was alright?
It went unexpectedly smoothly.”
”Furthermore…
Yukinoshita-san, she…”
”What about her?” Hiroto leaned a fraction closer, lowering his voice.
“Are we going to talk bad about Yukinoshita?
Lean in a bit closer then, don’t let anyone else hear.”
Kita was momentarily stunned by this sudden twist, completely failing to notice that Hiroto had already leaned in.
”I-it’s about this,” she cleared her throat.
“Initially, when we entered STARRY Live House and I saw Yukinoshita-san’s stern demeanor, I was incredibly tense.
But Ryo-senpai and Nijika-senpai are great people and had already forgiven me.
However, the subsequent development…
was inexplicably strange.”
She furrowed her brow, struggling to organize her words.
”Although Yukinoshita-san lent me her guitar, the band still needs time to sync up.
Our new member, Goto-san, can’t adapt to the stage yet, and I don’t know the first thing about playing the guitar either.
Nijika-senpai is the drummer, so she isn’t too familiar with it either.
Ryo-senpai is very busy…
so we need someone with prior experience to guide us.
This matter has already troubled Yukinoshita-san enough, and a stern, pragmatic person like her didn’t seem likely to agree.”
”However, Nijika-senpai’s older sister—Manager Seika—said something along the lines of…
‘What’s the matter, Yukinoshita?
Don’t tell me you can’t handle it?’ or something like that.”
”And then?”
”And then…
she actually agreed?” Kita’s face was completely written with bewilderment.
A subtle smirk played on the corner of Hiroto’s mouth upon hearing the conclusion.
“Is that so?”
He wasn’t surprised in the slightest.
“Does it feel odd?
That the cold, rational, and intensely pragmatic Yukinoshita Yukino would actually fall for such a low-level provocation.”
”Ah, though phrasing it that way is a bit mean, that’s exactly how it felt,” Kita nodded.
”Exactly,” Hiroto raised a finger.
“Congratulations, you have discovered Yukinoshita Yukino’s underlying core code.
Whenever she is wavering, utilizing a reverse psychology provocation yields an exceptionally high success rate.”
”Ah?” Kita still found it a bit difficult to believe.
”Tachibana-kun.
Do not utilize your impoverished vocabulary to describe me.”
A chilly voice drifted down from behind.
Hiroto turned his head.
Yukinoshita Yukino stood on the upper steps of the staircase at some unknown point, holding a book as she looked down at him expressionlessly.
”Furthermore, this is the second time I have overheard you discussing me behind my back.”
”And finally, good morning.”
The sudden appearance of Yukinoshita gave Marin Kitagawa—who was currently eavesdropping around the stairwell landing—a stark fright.
She instinctively recoiled a step, her heart thumping violently twice.
Yukinoshita was standing right beside her now, the distance between the two separating them by less than two meters.
Yukinoshita cast a brief glance at her.
”Good morning, Kitagawa-san.”
”…G-good morning.” Marin offered a slightly stiff response, her gaze uncomfortably drifting toward that approaching figure not too far away.
Hiroto walked over, casting a glance at Yukinoshita.
“Morning.”
Then he cast a glance at Marin Kitagawa.
“Morning.”
Two words, delivered with the exact same flat intonation.
Marin froze for a fraction of a second, and before she could manage to formulate a reply, Kita had already jogged over to cluster beside Yukinoshita.
“Yukinoshita-san, good morning!”
”Morning.”
”Thank you so much for yesterday!
That guitar—”
Kita matched her pace with Yukinoshita’s strides.
The two walked ahead—one radiantly bright, the other cold as frost—creating a picture that was inexplicably harmonious.
Hiroto followed behind.
After a few steps, he noticed that Marin Kitagawa was still standing rooted to the original spot.
He turned his head to glance back at her.
Marin bit her lower lip, quickly quickening her pace to catch up.
The two walked side by side at the rear, maintaining a distance of roughly one meter between them.
Ahead, the sounds of Kita’s continuous chattering echoed softly through the hallway.
Marin kept her head lowered, yet she couldn’t see the tips of her own shoes.
She was the one who had explicitly requested ‘don’t speak about it, and don’t speak to me.’ Yet right now, the one desperately wishing to break that declaration was herself.
It was so incredibly bizarre!
She subtly tilted her face, stealing a glance at the profile of the person beside her.
They had clearly only gone a few days without talking, so why did it feel like an eternity had passed?
”Um—” She finally opened her mouth, her voice incredibly soft.
Hiroto tilted his head to look at her.
Right at that exact instant.
With a sharp whoosh sound—devoid of any warning—the two vanished from the spot simultaneously.
There was no wind, no light, and absolutely no commotion.
They had simply dissolved into thin air.
The hallway sat completely vacant, leaving behind only a trace of an indefinable anomaly lingering in the empty space.
Ahead, Kita was in the middle of articulating something when she suddenly realized the sound of footsteps behind them had completely vanished.
”And then I felt…
eh?” She came to a halt, turning her head around.
The hallway was entirely empty.
There wasn’t a single soul.
”Tachibana-kun?
Kitagawa-san?”
No one answered.
She blinked, looking toward Yukinoshita Yukino.
”Where did they go?”
[Room 1 (2)]
(Note: The initial number represents the specific individual assigned to the room, while the number within the parentheses indicates the total count of entries into the space.)