Chapter 10: Moonlight Confession

Reading Settings

Translator: Soafp

---

I finished volume three.

Friday night. I turned the last page on my bed and stared at the ceiling for a while.

It was an incredible novel.

The shock when every single foreshadowing came together. The weight of the characters' choices. And—the quietness of the final line.

After I finished reading, I couldn't move for about five minutes.

Now I completely understood why Himuro Rin had been so absorbed in it.

This story was about a person who sees with their own eyes, judges for themselves, and takes responsibility for their own actions.

It was just like her.

I picked up my phone.

Opened LINE and pulled up my chat with Himuro Rin.

Our last exchange had been a week ago.

Her message: “Tell me what you think after you've read up to volume three.”

My reply: “Got it.”

What should I write here?

“I finished it.” That's true.

“It was amazing.” That's also true.

But words like that weren't enough.

I didn't want to send my thoughts about this novel as text.

I wanted to see her face and tell her in my own voice.

So I typed:

“I finished volume three. Can I tell you what I thought at tomorrow's volunteer? I can't put it into words.”

Sent.

One minute later—read.

Three minutes later—a reply.

“Okay.”

Two characters.

But those two characters gave tomorrow's me wings.

…No, wings is an exaggeration.

But at least it was a reason to wake up at five in the morning.

---

Saturday. Fifth volunteer day.

I arrived early at the community center again.

In my bag were the three paperback volumes I'd finished. They were full of sticky notes—every passage that caught my attention had one.

I greeted the staff lady and watered the flowerbed. I'd been put in charge of it last week, so this was my job now.

As I watered with the can, I noticed the marigolds had grown a little. We'd only planted them last week, and they'd already taken root.

Plants are honest. If you take care of them properly, they respond in kind.

I hope people are like that too.

Participants started gathering.

Himuro Rin arrived.
Today she was wearing a white blouse and khaki pants. She looked a little different than usual—no, maybe that was just my imagination.

She stopped when she saw me watering the flowerbed.

“…You're doing it.”

“Morning. Yeah, they put me in charge last week.”

“…………”

She looked like she was about to say something, but didn't.

But—just for a moment—her expression softened.

A truly brief moment. So brief you'd miss it if you blinked.

But I didn't miss it.

For the past month and a half, I'd been watching her expressions more than anything else.

“Morning.”

She said that and headed toward the work area.

Today's “morning” was the softest one yet.

---

The morning task was weeding the park and cleaning the walking path.

By now both Himuro Rin and I were used to it, working silently.

Before, I used to think, I want to work near her.

But now it wasn't on that level anymore.

Do my assigned area properly. Don't slack off.

Because I think that's the minimum requirement to stand beside her.

Sota Mimura was there again today.

But he seemed less energetic than last week. He didn't talk to anyone while working, just silently picked up trash. I wonder what's wrong. Well, it's not my business.

The morning work ended.

Break time.

I took the three paperbacks out of my bag and sat on a bench.

Himuro Rin approached—with hesitant steps.

Last week I was the one keeping my distance.

Today—she came to me.

She sat down next to me on the bench. There was enough space between us for one person.

“…You read them.”

She said that, looking at all the sticky notes in the books.

“I did. All three.”

“That's a lot of notes.”

“There were too many parts that caught my attention.”

She leaned forward slightly. Her eyes were on the books.

“…What stood out to you?”

Here it comes.

I opened the first volume and showed her the page with the first note.

“First, here. The end of chapter three. The part you called the ‘entrance.'”

“Yeah.”

“It's the scene where the protagonist realizes that there isn't just one truth. But what I noticed wasn't the truth itself—it was the protagonist's loneliness.”

Himuro Rin looked at me.

“Loneliness?”

“When everyone else believes in one answer, but you're the only one seeing a different view—the feeling of being left behind. That hurt.”

“…………”

“And in volume two that loneliness accelerates, right? The people he thought were allies start to drift away. But he keeps believing in what he saw with his own eyes.”

“…Yeah.”

“The character you said was cut from the movie—their perspective makes the protagonist's loneliness stand out even more. In the film you know from the start that the protagonist is right, but in the original you keep wondering, Is this person really right? That uncertainty was really good.”

I was talking without stopping.
Before I knew it, I was flipping through the marked pages one after another, pouring out my thoughts.

The foreshadowing in the middle of volume two. The shock when it was resolved in volume three. The characters' choices. And the final line.

“That ending—‘And yet, morning still comes'—I felt like that one sentence saved everything. Not hope exactly, something quieter. Whether the person who did the right thing gets rewarded or not is unknown, but morning still comes. That alone is certain—”

I cut myself off and looked beside me.

Himuro Rin—was crying.

No, saying she was crying is an exaggeration.

The corners of her eyes were wet, her lips tightly pressed together, trying desperately to hold it in.

“Eh—Himuro?”

“I'm not crying.”

“No, you are a little—”

“I'm not.”

A strong voice. But nasal.

She was obviously crying.

“…Sorry. Did I say something weird?”

“You didn't say anything weird. It's just—”

She turned her face away and pressed the back of her hand to her eyes.

“It's just that—you're the first person who read that final line that way.”

My heart pounded loudly.

“When I recommended it to Yui, when I recommended it to my mother, everyone just said ‘It was interesting.' That's fine. Everyone has their own impressions.”

“…………”

“But—no one understood the meaning of that line properly.”

She looked at me.

Straight at me, with eyes still marked by tears.

“…Thank you. For reading it.”

Those words fell deep into my chest.

Quietly. Deeply.

---

I barely remember the afternoon work.

My body must have been moving. I picked up trash, swept leaves, did what I had to do.

But my head was full of Himuro Rin's expression from earlier.

Those tears.

That “thank you.”

Those—straightforward eyes.

I'm at my limit.

Today—I have to say it.

If I keep silent any longer, it'll be a lie.

Why I stay by her side.

Why I keep coming to volunteer.

Why I took the flowerbed duty.

Why I read those three books.

All of it—because I like her.

I have to tell her.

---

The volunteer work ended.

Evening in front of the community center. After the closing greeting, people began heading home in small groups.

Himuro Rin—didn't leave right away today.

She was standing in front of the flowerbed, looking at the new flowers.

Now's my only chance.

“Himuro.”

I called out.

She turned around.

“…Can I have a little of your time?”

“…………”

She didn't say anything.

But—she didn't leave either.

I took a step closer.

“I was really happy about what you said about my thoughts today. I feel like I was able to understand, even a little, something that's important to you.”

“…………”

“But—to be honest, I started reading the books because I wanted to talk with you.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“That was the initial reason. But once I started, I genuinely got hooked. After that I was just absorbed in the story. That part is true.”

“…………”

“I'm always like this. My motivation might be impure, but once I start, I get serious. The volunteer work was the same. At first I came because it was a punishment, then I kept coming because I wanted to see you—but now I feel meaning in doing it properly.”

Choosing my words carefully, but not stopping.

Looking straight into her eyes as I continued.

“You know the rumors that I'm a pI@yb0y, right?”

“…Yeah.”

“They're true. I've dated a lot of people, and none of them lasted long. Some ended in a month or two. I won't deny that.”

“…………”

“But—I was serious every time. I never dated casually. I fell for them, spent time with them, and when I realized it wasn't right, I faced it honestly and ended it. I can still talk normally with my exes. That's all there is to my love life.”

Rin Himuro listened in silence. I couldn't read her expression. But—she wasn't running away.

“And me—someone like that—I fell for Himuro Rin for the first time on my own.”

I said it.

My heart was loud. My palms were sweating.

I'd never been this nervous in my life.

“It's the first time I fell in love on my own. Until now it was always the other person first. But with you—the moment I heard those words when we talked at the volunteer, you took me.”

“…………”

“I might be a pI@yb0y, and I might not be someone worthy of you. You're serious, strong, and you never bend. Standing next to you—I might not fit.”

The evening sun dyed the wall of the community center orange. The marigolds in the flowerbed swayed in the wind.

“But—I like you. Himuro.”

I said it.

Silence.

The sound of the wind. A bird calling somewhere in the distance.

Himuro Rin didn't say anything for a long time.

She looked at me.
Lowered her eyes.

Looked at the flowerbed.

Looked at me again.

Her eyes were—wavering.

Not disgust. Not confusion.

Something more complex, a mix of many emotions.

And finally—she spoke.

“…Wait a little.”

A small voice.

“I can't answer right now. I'm sorry.”

“…………”

“It's not that I don't like you. It's just—I want time to sort things out.”

She doesn't dislike it.

Right now, she said she doesn't dislike it.

“Okay. I'll wait.”

“…………”

“I'll wait as long as it takes. Until you find your answer.”

She took a breath.

Her shoulders were trembling slightly.

“…That's unfair.”

“Eh?”

“Being that honest—it leaves me no escape.”

“…………”

“I'm someone who sees with my own eyes and judges. Not by rumors. I've been watching Fujimiya—you—properly.”

She said you.

Not Fujimiya—you.

“And after watching you—I got confused. The person I thought was a pI@yb0y waters the flowerbed, reads the books I love, and clumsily spins in circles.”

“…………”

“So—please give me a little more time.”

I nodded.

I tried to smile, but I couldn't do it well.

Because—I felt like I was about to cry.

“I'll wait. For days, for weeks.”

“…You're exaggerating.”

“I'm not. I'm serious.”

She looked away from me and adjusted her bag.

“Well then—I'm going home.”

“Yeah. Take care.”

She started walking.

Three steps. Five steps. Ten steps.

She didn't turn around.

But—on the fifteenth step, she stopped.

“Fujimiya.”

Still with her back to me.

“That novel—the final line.”

“…………”

“‘And yet, morning still comes.'”

“…Yeah.”

“I like that line the most too.”

She said only that and walked away.

This time she didn't turn around.

I stood in front of the flowerbed for a while, unable to move.

The sunset faded into twilight.

Orange turned to purple, then to deep indigo.

I confessed.

Her answer is on hold.

But—it wasn't rejection.

She said she doesn't dislike it.

She said she's been truly watching me.

That alone—is enough for now.

I looked up at the sky.

Through a break in the clouds, I could see the moon.

A thin crescent. Not full yet.

My love—hasn't filled yet either.

But it's definitely there.

I sent a LINE message to Kaito.

“I confessed.”

Read in ten seconds. Reply in five.

“How did it go?!”

“On hold. But she said she doesn't dislike it.”

“…………”

“…………”
“You're seriously amazing.”

“I'm not amazing yet. I'm just waiting.”

“Being able to wait is what's amazing. The old you would've already moved on.”

…That's true.

The old me might have decided “no chance” the moment I got put on hold and backed off.

But now it's different.

Waiting has meaning.

Whatever her answer is—I'll accept it head-on.

“Kaito. Have I changed?”

“You have. Without a doubt. For the better.”

“…Thanks.”

“Yeah. I'm waiting for the good news.”

I put my phone away and started walking home.

Moonlight faintly lit the road.

Fujimiya Ito, seventeen years old.

My first confession in my life ended with the worst possible result for my heart—waiting for an answer.

And yet, strangely, I felt calm.

I'd said everything I needed to say. Not a single lie.

Now—all I can do is believe in her and wait.