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Hayami likes Chiba. Everyone likes Chiba.
Chiba’s her partner, as hardworking and as serious as she is. Hayami’s never met anyone that similar to her. “I respect you,” she blurts out on their first meeting. Chiba just nods in reply.
They’ve always been quiet. He might look scary, but he’s anything but that (unless you anger him or insult his music tastes). She learns the way his bangs puff up when he laughs. No one has ever caught a glimpse of his eyes. She’s fine with that; Chiba clearly doesn’t want anyone to know, and she won’t try to intrude into his territory. She recognizes the familiar way his lips quirk up whenever he hits yet another target. Hayami claps, genuinely impressed. So does the rest of their class. “Congratulations, Chiba-kun. You’re the top scorer in our class again,” Karasuma declares. Chiba just smiles while everyone cheers.
Everyone groups her and Chiba together, and yes, they’re partners, but Chiba no doubt has the better accuracy rate. Hayami has improved, but so has Chiba, and she knows she can’t catch up with him. Which is good! It shows they’re both getting better, and they’re gonna have more of a chance of killing Korosensei. And it’s not like Chiba brags about his accuracy. In fact, he does the opposite, to the point Sugaya threatens to hit him with his sketchbook and even Karma gets annoyed (yes, Chiba is friends with the class devil). Chiba is too humble for his own good. Hayami wishes she gets frustrated with him, but he’s too nice and she literally cannot.
They practice together silently, eyes trained on the targets. The bright pink of the BB pellets stand out against the green grass. Another miss. Hayami bites her lips, and tries again.
“Your posture is too stiff,” Chiba says. He shifts closer, and she absentmindedly lets him rearrange her fingers on the trigger. Why she allows that, she doesn’t know. Maybe it’s because Chiba’s respectful, and he’s one of the classmates she feels the most comfortable around with. Maybe it’s because he’s clearly the better shot and she wants to learn from him.
Chiba’s fingers are cold. It’s probably due to the wind. Hayami idly wonders if that’ll affect his performance, since his fingers are numb and all that.
Hayami shoots again. Another miss.
“It’s not working,” she says plainly. She knows she sounds like a child, and she hates sounding like a child, but that’s all she can say. She doesn’t have any excuses— Chiba’s thoughtfully calculated everything, from the distance to the angle to the wind speed. She just can’t hit it.
“Well— maybe this method doesn’t suit you after all,” Chiba offers, and she knows he’s trying to be nice. Chiba is one of those few people who can be blunt and kind at the same time.
(Not that Hayami knows a lot of people. Nakamura’s jokes sometimes brushes past Hayami’s lines, Okajima is straight up perverted, and let’s not talk about her mom, shall we?)
Hayami stares at Chiba’s target, which clearly has more bullet marks on it compared to her pathetic target. Chiba, who’d always been the best at shooting. Chiba, whom everyone asked for whenever they needed a sniper. Chiba, who offered to coach anyone who asked.
And then there’s Hayami, the second-best sniper, standing in Chiba’s shadow.
It hurts, because Chiba’s so much better at everything than Hayami. But what really hurts is that Hayami cannot hate Chiba. She literally cannot.
Chiba is nice. Chiba is kind. Chiba is friendly, friendlier than she’s ever been. Chiba is smart. His grades are better than hers. Chiba is skilled, so skilled but doesn’t hesitate to help everyone else. Hayami is grateful for him. Grateful to meet and befriend another person who’s like her, just better.
And she really likes him. She truly does. She just doesn’t know why she’s sad yet outrageously happy around him.
Hayami doesn’t even realize her hands are trembling until Chiba says, “Let’s try another day. The wind’s getting strong now.”
Hayami sits in her usual spot, staring at her textbook. She’s not really reading it, but at least she’s trying.
It’s break time. Kimura and Okano are yelling at each other somewhere. Okuda is hanging out with Kanzaki, who sits next to Hayami. Sugaya and Mimura are chatting behind her. Yada and Kurahashi are nowhere to be found (trying to find butterflies outside)? Nakamura is busy harassing Nagisa with a dress. Hayami disapproves of that, but she can’t stop Nakamura. No one can.
(“You know he won’t like you back if you do that.” “Hah, do I care?”)
Hayami’s stomach rumbles. She glances at the clock and quietly counts the hours to lunchtime. She wishes she has something other than the leftovers from last night. She wishes her mom actually cared about the food.
Hayami again stares at the textbook. Math is so intriguing. Seeing those sin cos tan in perfect ink letters reminds her of Chiba, reminds her of those afternoons on the field, wind blowing through their hair, yet never strong enough to lift Chiba’s bangs. They remind her of the notebook pages fluttering in the breeze, Chiba’s mechanical pencil tapping on the desk, the way he scrunches his nose when he does a sum wrong. They lift their guns, trigonometry and numbers wedged into their minds, and shoot. Hayami misses. Chiba does not.
Chiba’s voice cuts through her thoughts, melding together memory and reality. He’s apparently in a heated discussion with Karma, both of them furiously gesturing at their textbooks. She hears them punch numbers in the calculator. Click. Clank. Okajima, who sits in front of Chiba and Karma, eagerly join in, although Hayami has the feeling he doesn’t have the faintest idea what the two math geniuses are talking about.
They talk about math for the whole break. Hayami catches bits and pieces of their conversation. One particularly memorable moment is when Chiba gasps in mock offense at something Karma said while Okajima cackles. Hayami does not know what is going on, but they seem to be enjoying themselves. The combination of the delinquent, the sniper, and the pervert is a little weird, but really, what can she say when their teacher is literally a moon-destroying octopus? The bell rings. Hayami closes her trigonometry textbook and stands up. She did nothing but wait during break. She dutifully follows her classmates to the science lab where their next lesson will take place.
“Hey, Hayami.”
Hayami turns. Chiba is there, walking with Karma. They’re probably still talking about math. Hayami suddenly wishes she’s smart like them. Or maybe just smart enough to understand trigonometry. The urge is strange, and Hayami does not try to understand it.
“Practice after school?”
Hayami gives a curt nod.
“Okay, see you there.”
… And that’s it. A handful of words. That’s how they communicate.
(But really, it’s her fault. Her fault because she’s so detached and silent and stoic. Chiba’s much better with other people. Heck, he befriended Karma. Hayami’s just awkward, and so Chiba is awkward along her.)
“Fancy seeing you here,” she says.
“Hi,” he says.
Chiba is in the woods behind the classroom. There’s a rope wound around his waist, targets scattered around him. Hayami’s on a walk after lunch, and she’s pleasantly surprised to have stumbled upon Chiba.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Setting up targets,” he replies. “But I can’t climb this tree very well.”
“Let me try,” she says.
“Okay,” he says.
Hayami starts her way up the tree. The cool wind blows between her legs and she’s suddenly self conscious that she’s wearing a skirt (even though she wears pants underneath). But oh well, this is Chiba. Chiba isn’t a greasy slimeball.
“Hand me the target.”
Chiba obliges, and Hayami fixes it on a sturdy branch. She gracefully jumps down from the branch, but her hand accidentally scratches against the bark. “Ow.”
Chiba’s quick to react. “Are you hurt?”
Hayami stares. Her skin’s reddened, but there’s no blood. “It’s fine.”
“Oh, good,” Chiba sounds relieved. “But Korosensei can patch you up if it gets serious. And if he’s not available, I do know a bit of first aid.”
“That’s nice. Where did you learn that?”
“From one of my younger sisters.”
“One of?”
Chiba laughs, as if recalling a fond memory. Hayami likes the smile on his face. “I have three sisters.”
“Wow.” Then because she doesn’t know what to say, she adds, “Nice.”
Chiba shrugs. “It gets noisy, but I love them all the same. Six people under one roof can drive some of us insane.”
Six. Hayami counts on her fingers. Him, his three sisters, his mom, and his dad. Hayami doesn’t have a dad. She barely has a mom.
“How old are they?” she asks, suddenly interested in Chiba’s family.
“The oldest is in highschool. Then there’s one who’s ten, and one who’s five. Minorin’s the baby of the family.”
Chiba’s smiling again. Hayami idly wonders if any of his family members share his eyes, then realizes she shouldn’t wonder about something he’s keeping private.
“You know, you’re good at tree climbing.”
Hayami raises an eyebrow. “You were watching?”
Chiba flushes. “Not in that way!”
(Hayami knows, she’s just teasing. Or maybe just making sure.)
“Anyways, remember what Karasuma said? We can camouflage ourselves in the trees and shoot at Korosensei. You’re good at shooting and climbing, maybe you can try.”
Hayami laughs. It’s nowhere as warm as Chiba’s smiles when he thinks about his family. “I can’t hit my targets well enough even when they’re in front of me, let alone tricky positions.”
“Really? I think you might like the change.”
Chiba sounds optimistic. And if he’s optimistic, then she is.
Hayami climbs up another tree and tries to shoot the target that she hung up. Now in an unfamiliar position, she has no numbers to rely on, no Chiba to whisper angles and timing. She’s on her own, smuggled in the evergreen leaves, her body automatically shifting to keep her balance.
Hayami shuts her eyes and thinks of the way the birds chirp and the way the branch unsteadily sways in the wind and the way her blood thrums, eager to shoot. She has nothing but herself. It’s strange, but welcoming.
She opens her eyes, and shoots.
The bullet smacks into the bullseye. Excitement gushes from her heart like a spring and spreads through her body. She swears even her toes are tingling. I hit it, I hit it.
Chiba is gaping. “H-how did you do that?”
Hayami stares at him. “How—”
“This is the first time you did that, right? Without any preparation or calculation? And the branch was swaying.” Chiba is rambling. Hayami can’t see his eyes, but she’s sure they’re alight with joy. He lifts his head. “I’m impressed, Hayami.”
“Beginner’s luck.”
“No,” Chiba protests. “I saw that look in your eye. It was amazing.”
Hayami tries not to think about how Chiba’s looking at her eyes. She jumps down from the branch, feet making a soft thud. They both stare at the target.
“I think that was intuition.”
“... What did you say?”
“I think that was intuition,” Hayami says, a little louder this time. She looks at Chiba. “I can’t explain it. It’s just like… a gut feeling. You know when to shoot, even if there’s no physical evidence of it.”
“Wow,” Chiba says almost enviously, and Hayami’s heart leaps in triumph. The best sniper in the class is impressed. By her.
Hayami doesn’t want to be arrogant, and immediately switches to business mode. “Well, I’m definitely trying more of that out.”
“You should,” Chiba agrees. Then he turns to her, saying the words she says to him so-very-often.
“Teach me?”
The class gets their test scores for their math test. Hayami stares at the mark. She improved, but it’s not what she wanted.
… She doesn’t want to go home.
Korosensei starts walking (slithering?) around the class, talking about the average and the highest mark. Hayami gulps and wonders what more excuses she has.
She really doesn’t want to go home.
So she lingers with Chiba. They stay after school to practice as always. When he says he should go, Hayami convinces him to practice just a few more shots. He obliges, and Hayami is happy.
She still doesn’t want to go home.
They stay until the sun starts to set. The sky is painted in brilliant shades of red and peach and gold and pink, but their backs are turned against the sight as they tidy up the supplies and polish their rifles. It’s always business-like for them. There’s no time to stop and admire anything, but Hayami does anyway.
“I like the sunset today,” she says. “It reminds me of a postcard I have.”
“Mmhmm?”
Hayami has the inexplicable urge to share. “I have a lot of postcards at home. Blank ones. I just collect them.” The words spit out one by one.
“That’s a nice hobby. Why?”
Hayami thinks of the stash in her drawer, neatly bound by a ribbon. “I like the pictures. They’re like windows to another place. They remind me of possibilities and how different life is on the other side of the planet. It’s fun to think about that. It’s fun to think about how my life can be different.”
There’s a pause. She sees Chiba look at her.
“Not that I’ll want to change my current life,” she quickly adds. “I mean, we’re all dying in less than a year, but this is the happiest I’ve been all my life. Honest.” Her voice is getting quieter and quieter despite Chiba being the only one there.
“You know what?” Chiba looks at her. “Me too.”
Chiba’s arm brushes against hers when he reaches for a broom. His black hair has a gold shimmer to it due to the sun.
They walk down the stairs in silence, their shadows growing longer and longer. It’s dark when they reach town.
Hayami still doesn’t want to go home, but it’s inevitable. She should stop avoiding it and just face it. People reap what they sow.
“I’ll bring you a postcard tomorrow,” he says.
“I look forward to it,” she says.
He does bring her a postcard tomorrow, but he notices something else.
Injuries are very common among the 3-E folks. Practically everyone has a fresh one, be it a scratch on the arm, a bandaged knee, or blisters on toes.
There is a red mark on Hayami’s cheek. And Chiba instantly knows what happened.
(He knows, he knows, he knows more than Hayami told anyone. Not even Nakamura knows. He knows about her mom. It’s not like Hayami doesn’t trust her other friends, she just doesn’t like talking about it. Somehow Chiba is the exception.)
“Hayami,” he says, tone warning.
Hayami raises a hand. “Don’t.”
“But—“
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says briskly.
Chiba frowns. “Okay. But still—“
“Chiba.”
“-if not me, then Korosensei—“
“Chiba.”
He stares at her.
She stares at him.
“I’ll be fine,” she says. “I don’t see her very often. And if Korosensei talks to her about it, she’ll just get even more upset. And that’s not good for anyone.”
Chiba stares at her for a little longer, as if he’s not sure what to do. Then abruptly his lips part.
“You should come to my house some time.”
Of all things, it’s the damn cat that gets to her.
A quick recap: she found an abandoned kitty in a cardboard box, the edges soaked in rain. She wants to raise it, but knows she can’t because her mom will never allow it, since there’s “no space” and it’s “messy” and “going to ruin the furniture”.
Hayami does not know what to do, so she leans on Chiba like she always does.
So Chiba ends up taking the cat back home. He insists it’s their cat.
Yumi is a little tabby kitty with bright green eyes. She nudges Hayami with her cute nose and she giggles and coos. She hasn’t smiled this much in ages. Nothing makes her happy like cats do.
(She’s exposing this side of her in front of Chiba, but if he’s weirded out by it, he doesn’t say anything.)
Hayami’s been to Chiba’s place quite a few times. All of his family members like her, and she likes them too. His sisters are particularly enamoured, excitedly going “Ryuu-nii brought a friend home!”. From what she can tell, Chiba doesn’t bring a lot of friends home.
She visits the Chiba household some weeks after they adopted Yumi. Hayami reaches for the familiar kitty, but she shrinks away into Chiba’s hands, scared of the “stranger”. Hayami’s heart sinks.
Oh.
She doesn’t remember me.
It isn’t supposed to hurt. It’s just a cat.
But it’s the cat that Hayami found first. Yumi was hers, even for a short while.
But now she purrs when Chiba strokes her. She curiously climbs over Chiba’s sisters. There’s now a collar, bright red, around her neck. Chiba’s mom places cat food in a bowl they bought for her. Yumi gratefully nibbles at it, surrounded by her family.
And Hayami knows the cat’s not hers anymore. Maybe it was never hers to begin with.
Because it was Chiba who provided her with a family, provided her with love and care. Hayami did nothing, so she gets nothing. It’s just how it is.
… Of all things, it’s the damn cat that gets to her.
They fall into a rhythm. Soon they met up after school without either of them asking the other to. They’re still awkward with words (more like Hayami still is), and their preferred way of communication is through guns and bullets.
Chiba still has the better accuracy rate. Hayami still shoots better using intuition. She notices that whenever their classmates want to ask them for help, they usually approach Chiba first. Because he’s nicer and friendlier.
Hayami wishes she knows how to make friends. She doesn’t initiative friendships. She should probably start to. At least be more assertive in her current friendships.
Chiba’s shy, but he’s not aloof. His appearance scares people, not his words. Hayami just scares people. She knows Okuda’s scared of her for some reason even though Okuda sits behind her. (Or maybe it’s because she sits behind her.) Hayami would probably feel more fine with it if Okuda isn’t best friends with Karma. So Hayami is somehow more scary than Karma. Ouch.
(Chiba’s friends with Karma as well. Hayami thinks about this more than she should.)
Hayami and Chiba still get grouped together by everyone.
She can’t really blame their classmates. They’re probably two of the quietest people in class, and they always pair up whether for training or for group projects. They’re seen as two peas in a pod, one never seen without the other. They’re 3-E’s best snipers, known for their reliability.
Hayami sits next to Chiba as they stare at the rough diagrams Isogai has sketched out for them. Chiba told Hayami that Isogai had asked for their assistance.
“So, I’m thinking one of you can shoot from Spot F, one from Spot G,” Isogai says, gesturing to the red circles on the sheet of paper. “Okano and I will distract Korosensei from the front.”
Hayami leans forward. “I think I’ll take Spot F,” she decides. It’s a slightly less straightforward spot than Spot G, and she wants to challenge herself.
“Yeah, that suits you,” Chiba agrees. “I’ll shoot from Spot G. I’ll go do some calculations.”
Hayami takes measuring tape and a ruler and they go off. Chiba calls out numbers, Hayami writes them down. It’s a system they figured out without speaking. Then side by side, they return to Chiba’s desk. Chiba sits, and takes out his calculator.
Her shoulder brushes past his when she leans forward to take a better look at his lines. Chiba’s pencil skids to a halt and he looks up at Hayami. Hayami feels a little taken aback because it felt like they just made eye contact even though she can’t see his eyes. “I-I’m not doing anything wrong, right?” he asks.
“It’s correct so far,” Hayami affirms. “I mean, your theories are always correct.”
She sees him smile. “Well, not always,” he says bashfully.
The familiar feeling brews in the pit of her stomach. Hayami’s never felt this way for anyone before, only for Chiba. It bubbles, and she feels faint. Her heart distantly aches. Hayami wants to hate this emotion, but she can’t.
She thinks of Chiba’s smile. The complicated math sums and theories scattered on his papers. The way his fingers curl around the trigger, hitting shot after shot. The way he’s quiet like her, but infinitely better at interaction. How happy he looks when he’s talking about his family. How it’s impossible to dislike him. How he how he—
The feeling swells, the bubble bursts. Hayami opens her eyes. She knows what she’s feeling.
It’s envy.
Chiba is like her, but better. Better skills. Better grades. Better social skills. Better relationship with his family. Better family. He knows what he wants in life (his dream is to be an architect); Hayami has no idea. He has their cat.
But he’s also her best friend. And she absolutely cannot hate him even if she tries.
There is one thing Hayami can do that Chiba can’t. Dance.
She meets up with Yada at the stairs at the quieter part of the neighbourhood. It’s not a dangerous place, it’s somewhere behind the town library. And it’s their spot, one that they meet every two weeks.
Yada plays the music, and they start to dance, following the videos they find online. Hayami likes getting rid of her energy that way. Sniping is fun, but sometimes she gets tired of crouching there, patiently waiting for her chance. She wants to move without a care in the world.
She dances furiously, and tries to put all thoughts of Chiba and sniping and targets behind her. Sweat rolls down her forehead. Her lips move according to the beat. “1, 2, 3, 4!”
The sun shines on them, painting their skin golden. Spring is slipping away and summer is fast approaching. They both get sweatier faster.
“It’s hot,” Yada complains. “Let’s call it a day, Rinka-chan. Even though you seem to be more energetic today.”
Hayami arches an eyebrow. “Really?”
They drink their cold melon sodas from the vending machines in silence.
Everyone is preparing for their grand summer assassination. And the two class snipers will play the most important parts.
Hayami is nervous. So is Chiba. But if they practice enough, they should be ready, right?
They dunk themselves in the pool and wait for the cue. This is to train their ability to shoot half submerged. They’re discussing having some floating buoys for them to hold on, but they haven’t tested that yet.
Yoshida created a crude machine that generates man made waves in the class pool. This is to simulate the rough seas they might face. Chiba and Hayami bob up and down unsteadily. The sun glares at them from above and the clear water glitters like diamonds.
“It’ll be nighttime when we shoot,” Chiba notes. “It’ll definitely be harder to see.”
“Night vision goggles?” Kataoka suggests. “I bet Karasuma-sensei has them.”
“We tried goggles last time to keep out the water,” Hayami says, as stoic as ever. “The water slides down the plastic and obscures our vision. Not a good idea.” (She doesn’t mention how Chiba has a hard time getting goggles on and off because of his bangs.)
Isogai nods. “We need to prepare more lights. And we need you two to come here one night.”
“Sure.”
The snipers stay in the pool until their fingers get wrinkly. They take towels and try to dry themselves. Chiba’s wet hair is sticking out, and Hayami avoids looking at him lest she accidentally sees his eyes.
“I think we made good progress,” she says as she rubs her wet hair with her towel.
“Yup, we definitely did. I’m worried about shooting during the night though.”
Hayami turns around. Chiba’s bangs are plastered to his face, a bead of water trickling down his cheek. There’s a tuft of hair poking out from his head.
Hayami gestures. “Your hair.”
Chiba tries, but he can’t quite get it. In a rare bold move, Hayami raises a hand—
And smoothes his hair.
He stares at her.
She stares at him.
Hayami extracts her hand quickly. “Sorry,” she blurts out.
“No, no!” Is it just her, or does Chiba’s voice sound a little higher pitched than usual. “It’s fine! Thanks for that!”
They sit side by side, eating the sandwiches Hara generously prepared for them (Hara was more of a mom than Hayami’s actual mom), letting their hair dry in the wind.
“We’re practicing moving targets this afternoon,” Chiba says in between bites of boiled egg and bread.
“Yeah. By the way, can I visit your house? I miss Yumi.”
(They both know she misses interacting with his family.)
“Sure. In fact,” Chiba stares at the sun. “Are you free tonight?”
Hayami’s heart skips a beat. “Yeah?”
“You can join us for dinner. Cooking for seven isn’t much more than cooking for six.”
“You should ask your mom first, though.”
Chiba laughs and scratches his head. “Oh, she’s actually been bugging me about that. She wants you to come for dinner.”
They look at each other, and a breeze blows. Chiba’s bangs, usually thick and fluffy, are now clumped together because of the water. Hayami thinks she catches a glimpse of his right eye before the bangs fall back into place. Her breath hitches.
“Hayami? You okay?”
So he noticed her expression. She swallows and knows she can’t lie. “Uh, I think I accidentally saw your eye?”
Chiba hurriedly turns away. “H-how much did you see?”
“Not much,” she says truthfully. “Just a bit of the colour. Red.”
“I see. Truth be told, I thought you would’ve seen them before.”
“Why? Because we spend so much time together?”
“Yes, and also…” he hesitates. “Out of all people, you’re always the one to look at me in the eye without actually seeing my eyes. Like, when you look at me, you always look at my eyes. Unintentionally.”
“Ohh. I don’t know about that,” Hayami admits.
“Must be intuition. You’re very good with that.”
Hayami thinks of the times they look at each other. Whenever the class succeeds at something, they always turn to look at each other as some sort of silent congratulation.
She just never expected to actually be looking at his eyes.
“Sorry if that made you uncomfortable,” she says.
“...”
“Hmm?” Hayami turns. “Didn’t catch that.”
“It’s nothing,” Chiba lightly says.
They return to munching on their sandwiches.
(Later, she learns he said “I don’t mind if it’s you”.)
They fail at the island assassination, but they both learn an important lesson.
You’re not alone.
They were so disappointed in themselves they couldn’t even face each other until their classmates started getting sick. They shoved their insecurities aside and worked on saving their friends.
… Hayami remembers holding a real gun in her hand, the surface still faintly warm from the body heat of its previous owner.
Hayami remembers her and Chiba walking side by side, bare skin brushing against bare skin. The air conditioners are blasting out cool air, but they both feel hot because of how anxious they are.
She remembers the way they smack their arms together as the replacement for a fistbump, both of them finally smiling.
And finally she remembers how Korosensei, the trashy shipper that he is, paired her and Chiba together.
Huh.
Hayami isn’t an idiot. She knows people whisper about her and Chiba. She never really cared much, because she doesn’t know a thing about romance. She’s never had a crush on anyone. She doesn’t know what it feels like.
But maybe, maybe…
She does like Chiba that way.
Hayami doesn’t know what she feels about Chiba. Respect? Admiration? Envy is there, definitely. But it’s not like the spike of jealousy that pokes a hole inside her. It’s like a fog, warm and misty and melancholy that clouds her heart. It’s envy, but also acceptance.
But there’s also fondness, gratitude, affection. And longing. Although what (who?) she’s longing for, she doesn’t know.
They sit at the beach together as fireworks burst from the skies. It’s a memorable end to their island trip. Explosions of pink and green rain down, glittering like stardust, almost in slow motion, the vibrant light illuminating their faces.
She turns to look at him. His eyes are fixated on the fireworks. She turns away.
The boom of the fireworks distracts her a little, but she doesn’t miss the way his hand lightly brushed against hers. Then he shifts away again.
It’s warm, warm, so warm.
She thinks of one of the postcards they saw in the souvenir shop at the hotel— there’s one of the night time fireworks. It looks just like the fireworks they’re seeing now. And for once, when she looks at a postcard, she doesn’t have to imagine the possibilities of a different life. Because this postcard is a tangible record of her precious memories.
She selfishly wishes she can revisit that summer night. She selfishly wishes she can recreate that summer night.
So she asks him out. Twice. Both end awkwardly. It’s not because he’s awkward, it’s because she is.
She hates how she’s unable to sustain conversation with him. She wants to get closer to him, but it’s… just not happening.
She wants to learn how to talk to people, how to make friends, how to sustain friendship. But everyone else has fifteen more years of experience than she has. Even Chiba, as quiet as he is, has his sisters. Hayami has an empty household.
But she’s still terrible at communicating, and now she’s making Chiba feel terrible, and that’s not good for anyone. Not good for him, not good for them, not good for the assassination mission.
She hates how she can only talk about work-related stuff. Because she’s uninteresting and she doesn’t know what to share. She thinks of cats and dancing and postcards and sewing and fashion magazines and wonders if those small bits of information are interesting enough.
She tried two times. She failed both times. And each time, she just becomes more scared and retreats further into her shell. Maybe she should stop.
… he’s better off with someone else anyway.
Someone who smiles, someone who’s happy, somehow who deeply appreciates him instead of being strangely jealous, someone who can make fun of him and bring out the best side of him. Someone who changes him for the better.
And her? She’s just making him even quieter and shyer.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
So they return to being work-based partners like they always have been. It’s their safe zone, because nothing can go wrong with training. No personal feelings are involved—
—But Hayami isn’t the type of person to give up.
Yee, she’s bad at it, and she may make this whole thing worse, but she’s determined to keep trying. Testing the waters, stepping out of her comfort zone little by little.
… Hayami wishes she can grow up faster and learn to be social and stop being weird about her feelings.
But now, as she realizes, she grew up too fast. And now she’s fifteen, an adult trapped in a teenager’s body, except she isn’t really an adult at all—
Just a child. Just a quiet, inexperienced, child.
And like a baby, she stumbles with her steps.
But before she can run, she must learn how to crawl.
They’re in class. He sits behind her. She turns her head ever-so-slightly to glance at him. He’s focused on his textbook, bangs drooping over his eyes as always.
… why does she keep on looking at him?
One day he says he likes talking with her.
They’re in the woods again, rifles propped against tree trunks. Autumn leaves lay scattered on the ground.
He says their conversation is “meaningful”. Most of it is about sniping and assassination and school so she understands why he thinks that way.
“I like talking with you too,” she says.
They test out shooting positions again. And when she beckons him to take a closer look at their target, no one feels odd about how his head presses against her arm.
5th period. Science class. Laboratory.
Hayami snaps at Okajima for bringing in a test tube five seconds later than she asked. (She’s having a bad day.) Okajima scowls.
“Wow geez, no need to get all worked up, Little Miss Bossy.”
Hayami blinks. Okajima’s legitimately pissed off. As annoying as he is, he’s always cheerful and good-natured, and somehow she’s the one to change that. Sure, she’s harsh towards Okajima because she knows he’s a pervert, and she probably wouldn’t have done the same if it was Sugaya not Okajima. But it doesn’t sit right with her.
Unfortunately Hayami is bad at stuff like that, so when she apologizes, it’s twenty minutes later and Okajima has literally forgotten about it.
Okajima bats a hand. “Nah, I know you don’t like me. I’m not really mad.”
“I just don’t like the pervert side of you,” Hayami says bluntly. It’s true. Okajima is an excellent spotter even though she never worked with him (and never will). He’s a moodmaker, always making the entire class laugh at his inappropriate jokes (is “69” really that funny?). He’s hopeful, optimistic, and eager to support assassination attempts. And supportive of all body types and sexualities. So she tells him all of that.
“You really think so?”
Okajima looks super excited for some reason. Hayami hides a smile.
“Yes, but unfortunately most of the time you’re still a pervert, and it genuinely makes us uncomfortable.”
Apparently Okajima then has a talk with Kataoka and Yada and then he declares he’s gonna change. He’s not gonna be a pervert. He says he only adopted that as his main personality trait because people thought it was relatable and thought he was funny, and he got attention by being a pervert. But he says now he knows better, he knows he’s more than the class pervert, and he’s going to stop being perverted because he doesn’t want to creep out his classmates. (And it’s just a wrong thing, anyway.)
And he’s making decent progress! Oftentimes his mouth opens, about to make a joke, but he shuts it. Hayami can tell he’s being sincere. She likes the new Okajima a lot more than the old one.
For some reason Okajima is trying to get close with her. This is unavoidable because Hayami’s friends are friends with Okajima (good lord, why do Chiba and Okajima work in sniper/spotter pairs?). But he’s actually being respectful and cautious, so she entertains him.
“You’re really cool, Hayami-san,” Okajima says one day under a tree.
“I’m not really,” Hayami responds absentmindedly.
She hears him fumble in his pockets. “Hey, I heard you like postcards?”
Hayami takes the postcards. They’re breathtaking images of the sea and cliffs and forests and clouds and beaches and everything. Her breath is stolen. She knows these postcards will be a favourite. “Wow. These are great!” She looks at him and smiles. Okajima looks ecstatic. “Thank you!”
“I picked them out myself,” Okajima says proudly.
“You have good taste. I mean, you’re good at photography.”
“It’s just a hobby.”
“A hobby worth investing in.”
There’s silence for a while as Hayami admires Okajima’s gifts (or are they peace offerings?). Then—
“Hayami-san, can I ask you for help?”
“If it’s about girls, afraid I can’t,” Hayami says automatically. “I don’t know anything about romance.”
Okajima laughs. “Wow, shooting me down before I even ask. You know me too well.”
“Just kidding. You can ask, although I doubt I will be helpful.”
“Well. So.” Okajima rubs his hands together (a nervous reflex of his). “I like this girl, but I think she’s totally better off with another guy.”
“Chase after her,” Hayami immediately says. “Don’t give up.”
“I don’t think she likes me back. I mean, I don’t think she likes anyone, but if it has to be someone, then it’s totally that guy,” Okajima blurts out in one go.
“Does she like you as a friend, then?”
“I— yeah? I think? I hope?”
“Then continue with that. Get closer to her. Just don’t automatically give up because you think some guy’s better. You deserve happiness too.”
A pause. Okajima swallows. “I’ll do that.”
“... don’t tell me you like her because of her body.”
Okajima laughs at the joke. “I mean, she is pretty. Scratch that, she’s gorgeous. She has the coolest eyes I’ve ever seen. But she’s more than that. She seems scary, but she is actually nice and caring. And I think she’s pretty funny at times! Not to mention she can be really cute when she speaks about stuff she likes. And I think she doesn’t get appreciated enough.”
Hayami shoots Okajima a look. He looks blissful. “Wow, you’ve got it bad,” she marvels. She wonders if she knows Okajima’s mystery girl.
He laughs sheepishly. “Ugh, yeah. I do have it bad.”
“Hayami!”
A voice interrupts their conversation. It’s Chiba. Hayami gets up, then turns to look apologetically at Okajima.
“Sorry, got to go.”
Okajima waves. “Yeah, yeah, don’t mind me. Have fun!”
Chiba tells Hayami that Karasuma wants to talk to them. But he also asks what she was talking about with Okajima.
She thinks of Okajima’s crush and how sincere he is. She doesn’t want to invade his privacy by sharing something personal. “Nothing much” is her reply.
“Just making sure he’s not doing anything weird. I know he’s a good person, but still.”
“Yeah,” she quietly says.
They practice together. They study together, coaching each other on math and literature. She tells him where she bought her best pens. He tells her about his times in the light music club. They compare notes and targets. She learns what coffee he likes. He learns about her collection of plushies in her room. He enjoys her bluntness, she enjoys his thoughtfulness.
… and it’s as simple as that. They become closer through these daily interactions. It’s not forced or awkward like their “dates”.
They become closer without even thinking about it.
They’re trying to figure out a complicated shooting problem. Hayami catches Chiba on his own after school. “Can you stay with me for a little why?” he asks even though he knows the answer. He doesn’t wait for her to reply, instead he just walks into the classroom. This is something they’re used to.
They discuss briefly. They haven’t solved it yet, but they’re making progress.
“I think we’re getting closer to the answer.”
“Yeah, I think so too.”
They exchanged grins. Chiba drops his first, choosing to take out his notebook. He muses for a while, and Hayami tries to understand what he’s talking about. She offers some comments, but she doubts they’re useful.
Then suddenly Chiba turns and looks up. “Hayami, you’re brilliant!” he bursts out, a giant smile on his face. “So that is how it is. How come I’ve never noticed something simple?”
Hayami’s heart stutters. “Wh-what?”
Hayami feels bewildered upon seeing the suddenly agitated Chiba. Even though she had always been looking at him in class, she’d never seen him look so delighted. It’s strange, but a really pleasant sort of strangeness.
Chiba starts to explain his new theory that was inspired by some careless comment Hayami made. Hayami nods along, her excitement growing with his.
“Yeah, it is brilliant!” she chimes in when he’s finished, imitating his joyous tone.
“If you weren’t there, I probably wouldn’t have thought of it.” Chiba grins. “Even though it’s really simple once you notice it…”
Hayami can only smile at his words. The long-harboured envy starts to fade away, making way for something new.
She’s not standing in Chiba’s shadow. Granted, she knows no one but her thinks that way; Chiba sees her as his equal, but—
It’s only now that she learns to let go.
Chiba’s still trying the next day. Hayami peers at his lone figure in the classroom. There’s a melancholy expression on his face. She asks what’s going on. He says he’s not sure how to apply his theory in practical situations.
His notebook pages are covered with sums and hypothetical situations. She notes the ink smudges on his hands. Hayami’s known Chiba for a while, but she’s still amazed by how much he can achieve in one day. She can never studiously research different situations like he does.
Chiba starts to furiously mutter about the weather, the air current, the ricochet of the bullets. Even someone as calm as Chiba feels uneasy about actual missions, and Hayami encourages him.
“Relax. If you think it’s right, then it has to be,” she offers.
(She wishes she’s better with words, and she hopes what she said is enough.)
Chiba tears his eyes away from the pages (a rare sight), and looks up at Hayami. “Hearing you say that makes me happy…” he murmurs.
The words slip from his mouth carelessly like it’s something he’s always thought about. She makes him happy. Her complimenting him makes him happy. Happiness bubbles inside Hayami, but then she sees he’s still troubled.
“You can fill in the gaps in the problem with intuition,” Hayami nonchalantly says, suddenly confident. Intuition— it’s something she’s always better at.
He stares at her, doubting her. Blood rushes to her arms. She’s going to prove him wrong. She’s going to impress him.
She swiftly pulls out a pistol from her thigh and shoots three bullets. They hit all three targets, and she’s not even aiming precisely. She lets out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s been holding. She always enjoys the adrenaline rush of shooting and hitting her targets.
Hayami flashes a stunned Chiba a smile, the slightest hint of smugness visible on her face.
“At that moment, if you’re not confident in your theory, I’ll still shoot according to my gut feelings. If you can’t do it, I’ll do it for you,” she states. She knows she’s not good with words, but from her times in 3-E, she learns being honest is the best. “We can do what the other cannot do. If we form a combo, there’s no target we cannot hit.”
… and there. She’s said it. It’s almost a confession, or at least an attempt to put her feelings into words. They’re a team. They’re partners. Two halves of a whole.
He gazes at her, the moment lasting a tad too long. Something unspoken hangs in the air. Then she blinks, and the spell breaks. He smiles warmly.
“Thanks.”
He’s Chiba. She’s Hayami. He has the better aim. She has a better grasp of intuition. They complement each other, covering for each other’s weakness.
“If we combine two into one,” Chiba says. “Our mission will definitely proceed smoothly.”
Hayami nods, a smile sneaking on her face. Her friends all notice she and Chiba smile and talk more when around each other.
Chiba is nice. Chiba is kind. Chiba is friendly, friendlier than she’s ever been. Chiba is smart, but he asks her for help with literature and social studies. Chiba is skilled, and so is she. Hayami is grateful for him. Grateful to meet and befriend another person who’s a lot like her, yet different enough so they can learn from each other.
And she really likes him. She truly does.
They’re both still growing, still learning how to take care of the new, blossoming emotions. It’s a delicate matter, and it’s already difficult enough with just the two of them.
Ritsu does not know much about human emotions, but she knows one thing— others shouldn’t interfere. These two value their privacy,
So when Maehara and Korosensei ask Ritsu about whether Chiba and Hayami like each other romantically, Ritsu thinks about her two sniper friends. She cares about them, and she doesn’t want to disrupt what they have.
So she smiles
—and lies.