“I’m going to band practice. I always leave around now.”
She raised her left hand to show him a black instrument case.
“And as I was passing, I happened to notice that Natsuki Books, which ought to have been closed, was actually open. I popped in to see what was going on.”
She stepped across the threshold, her breath white in the chilled air.
“If you’ve got enough time to clean the shop this morning, that must mean you’re planning on heading into school afterward?” she said, her hands on her hips.
“Well . . . But I—”
“But nothing! If you have nothing better to do, then come to school. Are you really planning to miss the rest of your classes before you move?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Sayo gave the stammering boy a dangerous look.
“Hey, think about how I feel—I’m the one at my depressed classmate’s house, dropping off homework. I’m trying to be nice.”
Rintaro realized he’d never thanked her for bringing his homework by the day before. But as soon as he mumbled, “Thank you for yesterday,” Sayo got a puzzled expression on her face.
“Did I say something wrong?” asked Rintaro.
“No, I’m just surprised. You didn’t look happy at all about it yesterday, and now you’re standing here, thanking me to my face.”
“I wasn’t unhappy about it. You’re the one who looked pissed . . .”
“Pissed?”
Sayo was taken aback for a moment, but then added: “Not especially.”
But now she did look a little mad.
“I was just worried about you, Natsuki.”
“Worried? About me?” Rintaro said, surprised.
“Of course.”
Sayo looked sharply at him.
“Your grandfather dies, and now you have to move away—I got all worried about you. But then I find you just hanging out with Akiba like everything’s fine. That really bugged me.”
I hadn’t realized, thought Rintaro. Selfishly, he had thought that Sayo had been coming by out of duty. Even though she had told him straight out that she was worried about him, he assumed she had just said it out of politeness. But it seemed that wasn’t the case.
One moment Sayo was staring at him in amazement, then suddenly, she looked away.
“Did I really look pissed?” Sayo asked.
Rintaro was lost for words. It wasn’t because of her question—it was because, despite seeing Sayo hundreds of times, he’d never noticed before how bright and beautiful her eyes were. When he thought about it, he realized that she lived right around the corner, but he’d never had a face-to-face conversation with her before.
“What, did I seem like that big of a jerk?”
“。 . . I didn’t think that at all.”
“You’re a really bad liar, Natsuki.”
Rintaro had no answer for that. He reached up with his right hand and fiddled with his glasses for a moment.
“I’ve got Grandpa’s old tea set,” he said finally, pointing awkwardly toward the back of the shop. “If you have time, I could make you a cup.”
Ugh, thought Rintaro. What a stupid line that was. His clumsy invitation was met with a mild grimace from his cheerful classmate.
“What’s that? A pickup line?” Sayo asked.