Chapter 2: Unexpected obstacle, bolt from Aoi

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The soft crimson of the sunset slowly dissolved into a faint purple.

The light streaming through the school windows gradually weakened, and soon, the presence of nightfall began to settle.

I roughly wiped my tear-streaked eyes with my sleeve and looked up.

The clock on the wall pointed to 5 PM.

…How long had I been sitting here like this?

I pulled my scattered thoughts together and awkwardly stood up.

My legs were still unsteady. As I stuffed the heavy air in my chest and began to head toward the door, that's when I sensed it.

Someone was there.

Standing at the entrance to the classroom was a person in a black tracksuit, holding a basketball.

Tall and slender, but with unmistakable feminine curves where it mattered.

Our eyes met.

It was a face I knew well.

“…Aoi.”

Aoi Tachibana.

A classmate of mine, and a childhood friend of Amane Miyabi, who had stormed out of the classroom earlier.

And once, the three of us—including me—used to go everywhere together. Or rather, we “used to.”

Now, like with Miyabi, we'd become people who barely acknowledged each other even when passing in the school halls.

“Hajime, are you crying?”

“N-No… I…”

I stumbled over my words.

Aoi furrowed her brow slightly, as if irritated.

Her face, well-defined and strong-willed, was framed by neatly arranged short bobbed hair. Everything about her radiated a dignified, composed air.

The ace of the basketball team, admired by both boys and girls alike, with a straightforward, no-nonsense personality—she was the complete opposite of me.

“Hmph. Feels like it's been forever since I heard you speak. You barely talk to anyone, always glued to your desk.”

Her words had a biting tone.

…It felt eerily similar to what Miyabi had just said to me earlier.

“Speaking of, I saw Miyabi just now. She seemed upset. Did you say something to her?”

Her suspicious gaze pierced me.

My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly averted my eyes.

“Oh, I get it. Did you confess to Miyabi and get rejected?”

“What?! N-No, that's not…”

Aoi had always been sharp. She had this uncanny way of figuring out exactly what was going on in my head.

“…So I was right. Well, in your current state, it's no surprise you got turned down. You don't make an effort, you don't deliver results, and on top of that, you don't even keep your promises. You're just a coward.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut.

It hurt.

No effort, no results, no promises kept…

I thought I'd been working all this time.

I thought all that was left was to show the results and keep my promise. But now…

“Come to think of it, we made a promise too, didn't we? When you made that promise to Miyabi, Aoi, you said, ‘It's not fair for Miyabi to be the only one—make me the protagonist too,' right?”

That's when it happened.

—Bang!

Aoi slammed the basketball she was holding onto the floor with force.

It bounced hard and rolled back to her feet.

Did I hit a nerve?

Nervously, I bent down to pick up the ball that had rolled over.

“…Someone confessed to me too, just now.”

“What? Oh, uh… really?”

Aoi too…

A sharp pain pierced deep inside my chest.

Why?

No, it wasn't strange for someone as popular as Aoi to be confessed to. In fact, it was more surprising that it hadn't happened sooner.

“I'm thinking I might say yes, just like Miyabi did.”

“Say yes? Aoi, did you know about Miyabi and Godai-senpai?”

“Well, yeah. Miyabi's the school's beauty, and Godai-senpai's super popular. The rumors never stop.”

Her tone was calm and matter-of-fact.

“Honestly, I'm relieved Miyabi chose Godai-senpai instead of you.”

“So… you even knew that Miyabi would choose Godai-senpai.”

“Knew? It was just a hunch. Miyabi and I… we were both tired of waiting.”

“Tired of waiting… you too, Aoi?”

There it was again.

Miyabi had said she was tired of waiting. Waiting for me to achieve something, to keep my promise.

“I was trying… I was doing my best too!” I shouted impulsively.

But—

“Hah?”

Her voice was cold.

Aoi tightened her grip on the basketball she was holding.

“…Don't give me that. You just shut yourself away in your own little world and pretended not to see us.”

“T-That's not—”

“And you…! Ugh, I'm done. Talking to you just pisses me off. Don't ever speak to me again. Not to me, not to Miyabi.”

Spitting out those words, Aoi spun on her heel and left the classroom, walking briskly away.

I couldn't move.

Where did it all go wrong?

All I felt was emptiness, bitterness, and an overwhelming urge to escape.

Then, it happened.

—Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz.

The mechanical vibration of my phone echoed through the now silent classroom.

I glanced at the screen and saw the word “Dad” displayed.

Not wanting him to sense anything was wrong, I took a deep breath before answering.

“Hello, Dad?”

“Oh, Hajime!? You won't believe it!”

“You sound really excited. Did something happen?”

His voice was unusually high-pitched, and I tilted my head in confusion.

“They announced it! It's all over the news! You won the Namiki Prize this year! Your pen name is everywhere! You're the youngest recipient ever! Didn't the editor call you?”

“The… Namiki Prize…?”

“Eh? Hey, Hajime? Are you listening? Come home immediately—”

—Thunk. My phone slipped from my hand and made a dull sound as it hit the floor.

I could faintly hear my dad's voice coming from the speaker, but I couldn't focus on it. My mind was a whirlwind of confusion.

The promise I made that day—to win the Namiki Prize and make them the protagonists of my story.

I had worked tirelessly, throwing everything away to write for years. Whether in my room or the classroom, I wrote, determined to fulfill that promise.

The story I submitted to an online novel contest, the one that got published and became my first professional work, Two and One—my greatest accomplishment to date—that story had won the Namiki Prize.

“I won… a prize… Haha, hahaha…”

I couldn't quite grasp my emotions. Was I happy? Sad? Regretful? Or was it anger?

A flood of emotions swirled, overwhelming my mind.

But one thing was clear: I had achieved something great, and in the process, I had lost something important.

That truth weighed heavily on my small shoulders.

Picking up the phone, which had already disconnected, I took a slow, heavy step forward.

Without looking back, as if leaving the past behind, I stepped forward again and again. Toward what lay ahead…