Chapter 6: The Man Who Throws Things from Offstage

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Translator: Soafp

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The classroom had fallen completely silent, as if the excitement from moments ago had been a lie.

There was no longer any atmosphere pressuring Amanatsu to confess.

Shinonome, slumped on the floor, looked utterly despairing.

Her mouth kept opening and closing as faint groans spilled out.

Someone muttered:

“If what Hatsukade's saying is true, isn't Shinonome seriously trash?”

“I thought she was always cheerful and cute, but this is such a letdown.”

Once one person began talking, voices rose from elsewhere.

“Her hidden side is way too nasty. I can't.”

“I'd been wondering about her for a while. The way she acts around Masaki-kun is so obvious. Who does she think she is?”

Shinonome slowly got to her feet.

Tears gradually filled her increasingly frantic eyes.

I was surprisingly detached.

I felt neither anger nor sympathy—nothing at all.

A fanged beast had come at me, so I had pulled the trigger. That was all.

“…It's made up! I never did anything like that! It's just your stupid delusion!”

“Then why did you push Amanatsu into doing a fake confession?”

“…I just thought it would make things more exciting.”

“But even now, you were desperately trying to force things into another confession.”

“…!”

“The more I think about it, the more I realize you were unusually hostile toward me. I wondered if you'd really go that far just because I annoyed you a little. But what you really couldn't forgive was me praising Amanatsu as cuter than you in front of Masaki.”

That was exactly the kind of thing a girl so consumed by romance that she couldn't see anything else would think up.

It was obvious from her usual behavior that she looked down on Amanatsu.

Getting compared to someone she considered beneath her and losing, then having even the heart of the boy she liked taken from her—her cheap pride had probably been wounded. Something like that.

When Shinonome fell silent, Hiiragi cut in.

“Wait a second! How does Hatsukade know who Masaki-kun likes?”

“I happened to overhear it. It was after you and Shinonome talked in front of the vending machines yesterday. Some guy told Shinonome who Masaki liked.”

As I said that, I shifted only my eyes.

Katsurama's large body gave a sharp twitch, and he quickly lowered his head.

Relax. I had no intention of naming you.

Unless I was directly harmed, whatever you did was none of my business.

The bigger issue was Masaki.

He hadn't done anything wrong, yet I had dragged him into this.

Then Masaki met my eyes, gave a cold, sideways smile, and shrugged.

Judging from his attitude, he didn't seem bothered by any of it.

If that was the case, I had no reason to hold back.

“You're her friend too, Hiiragi. You know Shinonome likes Masaki.”

“…I can't say.”

“That's the same as admitting it.”

“Ugh.”

“Besides, Shinonome's behavior tells the whole story. Hey, Shinonome. To borrow your own words, read the room. Everyone's waiting for you to confess.”

“…D-Die, you a*****e!”

“Whoa, scary. What was that?”

“I'll never forgive you!”

“You're not the victim. You're the one who hurt people. Don't get it twisted.”

“Shut up! Shut up!”

Clutching her head, Shinonome shook it violently and screamed hysterically.

“Everyone does this stuff just because they're going along with the mood! So why am I the only one who has to go through this!? You're just some introvert waving around your pathetic sense of justice and getting off on your own self-satisfaction, you eighth-grader-syndrome freak! Go lecture someone worse than me instead! Disappear!”

Getting cornered and then lashing out—this girl was seriously unbelievable.

And she was only changing the subject and talking out of emotion.

Hiiragi placed a hand on Shinonome's shoulder and came to her defense.

“Hatsukade, just forgive her already. Maybe Shi-chan did something wrong, but you're going too far. If this happens in front of the whole class, a girl might never recover.”

“You were the ones who started it.”

“But she's been punished enough. I really don't think she meant any harm. You can understand it, right? Wanting to date the person you like and doing something unfair without thinking?”

“Why should I take the perpetrator's circumstances into account? And does having no bad intentions make anything okay? Do the victim's wounds heal just because there was no malicious intent?”

“…That's—”

“And you're acting so superior, but you're just as guilty as Shinonome.”

“Huh? Me!?”

“Obviously. Why did you think you had nothing to do with it?”

“I… um… what…?”

Hiiragi froze with her mouth hanging open, looking as though she had been hit by a pea shooter.

Could it be that she really had done all this without any ill intent?

That was even more surprising.

“Whatever. Are you going to make a public confession or not? If you won't, then you have no right to tell Amanatsu to confess. Which is it?”

Shinonome said nothing.

Instead, Masaki raised his hand and stepped forward.

“Can I say something? Dragging this out won't accomplish anything. We should each handle what remains ourselves.”

Even so, the hellish atmosphere wasn't likely to settle down on its own.

Masaki seemed to understand that. He walked over and stood before Shinonome.

“Shi-chan.”

“…Masaki-kun.”

“I'm sorry, but I can't return your feelings.”

“…!”

“It's not because of what happened today. I'm simply not in love with you. I'm busy with basketball right now, and I don't have time for romance.”

“…Sniff…”

Wiping away her tears, Shinonome ran out of the classroom with her head lowered.

“Shi-chan!?”

Hiiragi called after her, but Shinonome left the room.

Several students were still recording, and they had captured the entire thing on camera.

If someone malicious got hold of it, it might eventually spread on social media.

For someone as prideful as Shinonome, being rejected before her classmates—with footage remaining as well—would probably make it impossible for her to act as arrogantly as before.

Masaki turned toward me.

“Are you satisfied now?”

“…Yeah.”

“I see.”

Then he spoke to Amanatsu, who was still standing there stiffly.

“Sorry, Nakina. It looks like the story got passed along wrong.”

“Huh?”

“I don't actually have anyone I like. In a conversation with the guys, it became one of those situations where I had to name somebody. I said I thought you were cute, Nakina, and apparently it spread in a weird way.”

“…Ah. I'm honored.”

Despite being complimented by the most popular boy in our year, Amanatsu hunched her shoulders, scratched her cheek, and responded in a dorky voice.

Hey, Amanatsu—your popular-girl coating is peeling off.

“So that's the situation. Don't worry about me. Ah, lunch break is almost over. Will I have time to finish my bento? This is bad… My mom always looks disappointed when I leave food behind.”

“Worrying about your mom at a time like this? You're such a mama's boy.”

One of the boys retorted to Masaki's joke, and light laughter broke out.

As if that were a signal, the classroom's normal chatter returned.

“I'm hungry too.”

“I hope the cafeteria bread isn't sold out.”

Was this finally over…?

No. Hiiragi was still here.

I signaled for Hiiragi and Amanatsu to come with me, then left the classroom.

---

“So, how are you going to take responsibility for this?”

On the familiar stairwell landing in front of the rooftop door, Hiiragi, Amanatsu, and I faced one another.

Hiiragi was smiling brightly, but she was sweating as though she had just run laps around the school grounds.

“…Sakura.”

Amanatsu murmured anxiously.

At that moment, Hiiragi clasped her hands in front of her thighs and bowed her head.

Her blonde hair swayed softly.

“I-I-I-I'm sorry!”

I had expected this, but it still didn't sit right with me.

“…Hey. Did you seriously have no ill intentions this entire time?”

“…Yes, exactly as you said.”

“I can't believe it. Then why did you pressure Amanatsu into doing that fake confession?”

Glancing at Amanatsu's expression, Hiiragi murmured:

“I-I thought it would make things more exciting.”

“What about how I'd feel being fake-confessed to?”

Hiiragi held her head and gave a strained smile, as though trying to hide her guilt.

“I thought nobody would mind being confessed to by someone as cute as Nakina, hehe.”

“Are you serious?”

That was hard to believe.

Was she actually an idiot?

Look at Amanatsu—her cheeks were twitching.

No, wait. There was still a possibility that she was lying.

After all, this girl was a popular influencer on social media despite having a nasty personality.

In other words, she was a con artist who pretended to be kind and deceived tens of thousands of idiots.

She probably lied as naturally as she breathed.

“To me, Amanatsu clearly looked like she didn't want to do it. But even after the fake confession, you kept egging everyone on. There's no way to explain that without malice.”

“It's more that it was after the fake confession happened… I mean, I don't think it's quite right to say Nakina hated it either…”

“Is your sense of right and wrong completely broken? Come on, Amanatsu, say something too.”

“Huh? I mean, I don't really…”

“At times like this, it's better for you to be clear about it.”

“Ugh… Sakura, that's not okay.”

Amanatsu lightly placed her loosely clenched fist on Hiiragi's head.

Hiiragi hung her head in remorse, then slowly raised one hand.

“…Um, there's still something I haven't told you.”

“There's more?”

“I was the one who spread the rumor on social media that you two were dating.”

I was speechless.

I had been completely convinced Shinonome was the one behind it.

“W-Why would you do that?”

Amanatsu murmured, utterly put off.

Hiiragi puffed out her lips.

“Because I thought Nakina would be happy.”

“…”

“And because Hatsukade said he liked Nakina.”

I didn't understand.

Nothing she said connected, and my head was starting to hurt.

“Wait, wait. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Huh? You said you liked Nakina enough that you would've accepted her confession if it hadn't been fake. At first you denied it, but later you said so yourself. So I thought you might as well date.”

…That was a lie too. Still, I supposed it was understandable for her to take it at face value.

“Even so, it makes no sense to ignore Amanatsu's feelings, spread rumors, and try to force us into dating. Are you an idiot?”

“I-Idiot!? You don't have to go that far!”

“No, you're one of the biggest idiots I've met in my entire life. Do you even think of Amanatsu as your friend?”

“Haaah? Don't be ridiculous! Of course I love Nakina!”

“I'm saying your words and actions don't match.”

“They totally match! Nakina likes you, Hatsukade!”

“…What?”

“She fell seriously in love after the fake confession.”

“H-Hey—”

“But after the fake confession, she was too awkward to do anything about it, right? I felt sorry for her, so I thought I'd help her out… Hah!?”

Hiiragi covered her mouth with both hands, then turned toward Amanatsu with the stiff, jerky movements of a robot doing a dance.

I followed her gaze.

Amanatsu's face had turned blazing red.

Her knees shook so unsteadily that she looked as if one poke would make her collapse.

She swallowed hard, her eyes glistening.

Hiiragi desperately waved her hands.

“S-Sorry, Nakina! Everything I just said was a lie. It was a cute little joke. I'm made of pure malice, so I was trying to ruin you by making you date someone you don't even like… ohoho.”

Why did that excuse only make it sound more true?

And Amanatsu was no better.

She stayed silent.

If it wasn't true, she needed to deny it—or that was exactly what people would think.

“Amanatsu?”

When I called to her, our eyes met.

The color gradually seemed to drain from her eyes, turning them murkier and murkier.

Anything was fine. Just say something.

Don't look at me with eyes like you're about to cry.

If you didn't hurry, there would be no taking it back.

A single tear ran down Amanatsu's cheek.

She let out a small hiccuping sob, then finally forced open her heavy lips.

“…Why did you have to say it, Sakura…?”

It felt like a ball had suddenly flown from the court and hit me directly in the head while I was sitting in the stands.

The one who passed it had been a blonde gyaru with nothing to do with the game.

Let me say just one thing.

—Sakura Hiiragi was unbelievably, recklessly optimistic.