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Preparations for The Wizard of Oz were still underway in the Sealed Auditorium. When Hanako stepped inside, he saw how grand and magnificent it was.
The students working there looked like tiny ants from his perspective. He leaned against the doorframe and watched the chaos for a while. Watching mortals was somewhat entertaining; he often did the same when alone, sitting by the bathroom window.
Two girls stood nearby. Their faces weren’t completely unfamiliar; he must have seen them in Yashiro’s class. One of them, holding a big brush, was clearly responsible for the stage decor, painting Dorothy’s house. The other clutched a budget sheet, watching and taking notes. They were deep in conversation, and Hanako tilted his head, listening.
“Today, I’m going to ask him out,” said the dark-haired girl, her voice tight with nerves. “I already left a note in his locker. I wrote that I want to meet after school. I’ll ask if he wants to go to the movies with me.”
Her friend, the girl with a ponytail and glasses, gasped and nearly dropped her notebook. “No way! You’re really going to do it? No wonder you stared at the movie posters so long yesterday.”
“Shh! Don’t shout! He might hear you,” the first girl whispered, and they both burst into quiet giggles, occasionally glancing at a boy giving instructions at the front of the stage. The girl with glasses leaned in, whispering, “Whenever you’re not looking, his eyes are always on you. Trust me—he’ll say yes.”
The other girl’s face flushed bright pink. “I really hope so… I picked a movie I knew he’d like. But I don’t know if I’ll even be able to pay attention with all this excitement. He’s… amazing.”
Hanako turned his attention to the boy in question. He looked completely ordinary. Well, after fifty years trapped in the school, everything looked ordinary. His face was so plain that, despite often coming to Yashiro’s classroom, Hanako didn’t remember noticing him before. He wondered what made him so special. He was tall, with a small crowd hanging on his every word. Probably that’s why the girls liked him—tall, popular boys always drew attention, even if their faces were forgettable.
Mortals are endlessly entertaining, he thought.
He had been here for a long ,long time. He knew every crack in the hallways, every faded mark on the walls, the rusty creaks of doors. He even knew how the orange sunset spilled across the desks, turning the classroom into a quiet furnace of light. But faces—those he could never remember. They always left, replaced by new ones. Sometimes he cared, just a little—the secrets whispered between friends, love letters slipped into lockers, the worlds collapsing over a single bad grade, the chaos of the first day of school… It was all part of a cycle. Eventually, he’d realized the truth: they were just fools. Running around, never noticing what they had.
“Confessing, huh?” he murmured. For a moment, he felt a pang in his chest. These tiny anxieties, these fleeting joys… Time did not touch him. He remained frozen as a thirteen-year-old middle schooler in a gakuran. All he could do was watch. The flow of time…
He walked over to the spot beneath the big clock, where he’d once laid beside Yashiro. He dropped onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling, then at the clock. The chaos around him faded into the background as he fixated on its face. Suddenly, frustration welled up inside him. He shot to his feet, climbed up closer, pressing his hands against his head, trying to remember. Why was he even trying to fix this clock? Why was his past full of memories that slipped through his fingers? Nothing. Just a void.
How was Yashiro doing, he wondered.
──── ୨୧ ────
Yashiro Nene was, in fact, busy. He found her in her classroom, fixing up some costumes. She had her tongue sticking out slightly, brows furrowed as she worked the needle and thread. Hanako appeared behind her, and with a playful puff of air from between her hair, he brushed the back of her neck. Nene let out a small squeak, startled, and spun around.
“Ah, hey, Hanako-kun,” she said, exhaling in relief.
“You okay? You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”
“Very funny. Where’ve you been? ” she replied with a small laugh.
“Here and there. Saw some girls from your class plotting their love lives. Pretty spirited, if you ask me—pun intended,” he added , “Also..I checked out the Big Clock for a bit, thought maybe I’d remember something.”
“And?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Nothing.”
Yashiro nodded slowly, thoughtful.
“Where is everyone else? Did they just dump all the work on you?”
“They’re around, they’ll be back soon. Here, have a seat.”
He pulled up a chair beside her. Yashiro was patching up the Scarecrow’s pants. Her tongue poked out again, a bead of sweat running down her temple. Her focused expression was funny—just the same face she made when he made her clean the bathrooms. Always complaining, but never once doing a sloppy job.
“Wow, Yashiro, you’re pretty good at this. Didn’t you once tell me you learned to sew by yourself? To impress Minamoto Teru?” he asked.
“This? Everyone’s just doing their best,” she said humbly. “And… please, stop bringing that up…” She shivered, cringing at the memory of her past self—how awkward and embarrassing she had been.
“You said you also learned how to cook, clean and …” he started, counting off on his fingers. Yashiro snapped, “Okay, okay! You got me. Just stop already!”
God, she is such a mess.
“Don’t you get bored working alone?”
“I was a little bored, yes. I’m glad you came.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Time flies when you’re here.” Hanako noticed the faint red creeping up her ear. He forced his voice not to crack.
“R-Really? Then I’ll come more often.” They smiled to each other awkwardly.
“You’re really something. Your motivations are weird, but whatever’s on your mind, you manage to see it through. I’m proud of you.”
She paused in her work, looking at him as if she might cry. She couldn’t say a word. Burying her face in the fabric, she tried to pretend she didn’t hear him.
Then he couldn’t stop himself, he added, “ And I’ve never seen such a hardworking daikon in my life!” she immediately punched him in the arm. “What’s wrong with you this morning? Did you drink some kind of nonsense potion or something?! Go away!”
“Alright, alright, I’ll stop. I just… needed to get my mind off things for a bit. That stupid clock kind of ruined my mood.”
“About that... Do you really think it’s worth remembering? Maybe you should just… let it go. Sometimes leaving things as they are isn’t so bad.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t want to think about it right now.”
A sudden but warm silence settled between them. Yashiro kept sewing, though her mind was clearly far away. The apparition wondered what was going through her head—she was clearly lost in her own world. Her hair had slipped over her shoulder, clinging to the soft curve of her cheek. Hanako reached out almost without thinking, gently brushing the strands back. His fingers lingered longer than they should have, trembling with the urge to stay, to memorize the warmth of her skin. A rush of confusion hit him.
By the time the girl finally gathered her thoughts, she had already finished two more costumes; her friends would probably appreciate the lighter workload. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she said, her voice trembling. “After school today… could you meet me in the back garden? Near the Gardening Club.”
Hanako blinked, surprised. “What’s wrong?” Yashiro quickly covered his mouth with her hands. “I—It’s important, okay? I was gonna say it another day, but… ”
Hanako raised his brows, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Alright… but what is it about?”
“Please, no more questions!” she muttered, her face bright red. “Just… be there after school, alright?” He stared at her for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Okay… but it’s hard not to be curious,” he admitted, a glimmer in his eyes.
From the hallway came the sound of footsteps and laughter. The door slid open, and Aoi and the others spilled into the classroom.Yashiro found herself on her feet in an instant. Hanako rose from his chair as well, stepping aside to give the girls room.
“Nene-chan! I thought you were on a break,” Aoi called out. “Ah! No, I was here the whole time. Actually… I should probably head out now. Good luck with everything—I’ll be right back!”
“But—” She hurried out of the room, her voice trailing behind her.
Aoi called after her, “You finished the work already…”
Without even realizing it, Hanako drifted after her, floating curiously down the hall until they reached the staircase at the far end. There, Yashiro stopped.
“After school. The Gardening Club,” She whispered, her heart pounding.
──── ୨୧ ────
The school grounds were slowly emptying. Another long day had ended, but for Hanako, the excitement was just beginning. He leaned lazily against the small shed of the Gardening Club, hands tucked in his pockets, pretending curiosity didn’t have him pinned. The garden was immaculate; clusters of vivid tulips swayed gently beside beds of delicate lavender, their colors blending in a harmony that almost demanded attention. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the paths, bathing the flowers in a warm, golden glow. From a distance, he spotted the girl approaching. Straightening from where he’d been leaning, his heart gave an involuntary flutter. They hadn’t seen each other since their meeting that morning, and in the hours apart Hanako had drifted invisibly through the festival, unable to settle anywhere. Wandering alone through the crowds of people enjoying themselves, nothing held any real taste or meaning for him. Once, he’d even caught sight of Kou at the cotton-candy stand with his friends, but he’d only raised a hand in a brief greeting before slipping past unnoticed. The rest of the afternoon had blurred by in a haze of card games with the Mokkes, a poor substitute for the company he actually longed for.
“So—what’s this big, important thing you had to tell me?” he asked, a teasing lift in his voice that couldn’t quite mask the tension beneath it.
Yashiro swallowed hard. Anyone watching could have seen her eyes dart and her pulse hammering in her ears. Why was she so tense? They boy’s mind raced with worst-case scenarios: Was she leaving school? Had something gone wrong with the play? Was a stray apparition wandering the halls? Or worse—did she no longer want to see him at all?
“ I’ll get straight to the point.” She breathed. “I…” Her throat tightened, but she forced the words out.
“I think I’m in love with you.”
The confession landed like a stone dropped into still water. One heartbeat. Two. Five. Yashiro’s chest heaved. The silence pressed against them, thick and unyielding. When she finally dared to look, Hanako hadn’t moved. His eyes were wide, frozen, as if she’d just declared the sky itself was falling.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she snapped, heat rising to her face. “You’re seriously that shocked?I thought you knew—everyone knew.”
Still nothing. The seconds dragged like hours.
“…Hanako-kun? Earth to Hanako-kun?” Her voice trembled, a fragile mix of disbelief and rising panic. “Hellooo?”
“Wait—what did you say?” he murmured, as though a heavy weight had landed on his head. Perhaps he was dreaming—surely this was a dream.
Steeling herself, Yashiro said firmly, “I said I love you.”
And in that moment, Hanako felt a wild urge to soar, to float past the clouds and yell to the universe that Yashiro Nene loved him—like shouting in Minamoto Teru’s face, Not you, but me!
Yet reality’s harsh weight crashed down on him, undeniable and cold.
Finally, he stirred. A tentative smile flickered across his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He turned his head, shoulders slumping as though the weight of the world had just landed upon them.
“Wow, you must have an awful taste. Falling for a ghost like me? What are you thinking?” He asked. Hope collapsed with that single question. Every fragile thread seemed to snap.
“Why are you telling me this?” he whispered. “You know you can’t be with me, Yashiro.” His voice was soft, reluctant. “No matter how much we want it, there’s no future for us.”
Her breath caught, but she pressed forward, her words sharp, unyielding.
“No. We’ll figure it out.”
Hanako let out a bitter laugh, pressing his palm into the wooden frame of the shed until it groaned. “And how are we going to do that? Because from where I stand, it’s hopeless.”
Her voice didn’t falter. “It’s not! I’ll think of a way!” The fire in her tone startled even herself.
His smile cracked, bitter and small. “Yashiro, I adore how reckless, idealistic and determined you are.. but there are some things even your passion can’t fix.”
For a moment they just stared at each other, the air between them charged, raw, trembling with unspoken truths. “I must be dreaming,” Yashiro growled, wiping away the first traces of tears with a sharp, angry swipe. “ I can’t believe you. I said I love you, and this is my answer.”she said. “You always hold something back. You never plan to tell me anything!”
The threads snapped completely.
“You think it’s that easy? Just saying you love me and everything changes?” he shouted.
A sudden ache throbbed in his head, and for a moment, he hated himself for letting the words slip out. Then—wrong time, wrong place, and he knew it—an inner voice suggested a joke, the kind that might shove everything aside. He could tease her about her clumsy legs, or about how easily she fell for things, or something, anything, to carve out an escape route from this mess. The garden around them stretched on as if it had no end; he longed for a door to crash through without looking back. He needed to get out. “I… I didn’t mean it like that,” he tried, weak and faltering.
Yashiro’s hand shot out, as she read his mind, gently but firmly grabbing his arm. The sudden touch made him pause, a jolt running through him. Her eyes, steady and unwavering, met his, silently saying, don’t pull away. Her closeness, her resolve, pulled at something deep inside him. Her fingers burned where they clung to his arm, while his body felt ice-cold.
He reached up, almost instinctively, drawn by a need to connect, to anchor himself to her. He grasped the fingers that touched his arm with one hand, surrendering himself completely to her. The boy cupped her cheek in his free palm, his touch gentle as her eyes met his. Her face was flushed, pink as cherry blossom petals, and the boy had to hold himself back from kissing the curve of her cheekbones. His amber eyes traced every line of her face with quiet longing. “I’ve been wanting to say this for a long time,” Yashiro began softly.
“It’s time to tell me what’s really on your mind, Hanako-kun. No more running.” She lowered her gaze to her shoes, fiddling with a lock of hair. She repeated, “No escape.” Her lips trembled with embarrassment as she spoke, while he simply watched her.
“I don’t know how many times I must confess before you finally get it. ”
He bit the inside of his cheek, opened his mouth to speak, but Yashiro shushed him by placing a finger over his lips as if to say he had to wait for her to finish. “You must be playing dumb. Either you think I’m lying, or you just don’t want to face what it means,” she said, her voice heavy with sadness. Then, suddenly, she drew back, shaking her head. “Sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying. I just… want to understand you.”
They were alone in the school’s back garden—entire galaxy, it felt like. A silent universe stretched around them, where no one else existed, only the two of them. A universe meant for nothing but holding each other close, breathing in the scent of one another, the trembling urge to kiss, to touch, to never let go. A gentle breeze nudged the boy forward, pushing him toward the girl he couldn’t stop yearning for. His feet burned with the urge to close the distance, but fear rooted his in place—as though the very thing he desired most might also be the end of both of them. “I… um… ah… I wish things were that simple,” he murmured, his voice low. His expression was hidden carefully behind his hat.
At last, his trembling hands found her shoulders. He could no longer hold himself back; her name slipped from his lips like a prayer, his amber eyes silently pleading deeply for permission. But then the fear returned—that she might vanish from between his fingers. Desperate, he drew her into his arms and rested his head against her shoulder, his breath a trembling whisper against the curve of her neck.
“I… I can’t even imagine what state I’ll be in when you’re gone, Yashiro.” he said. “Honestly, I don’t even know what I want. More than anything, I want you to grow and see the world. But sometimes… sometimes I want to put you in a box and hide you .”
“Like you did in the perfect picture?” she teased . She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but her words dragged back a bitter memory, and he winced. He turned his face toward her and met her unreadable smirk. “I learned my lesson,” he said. Was it the truth? He wasn’t sure. The only thing he was certain of was that he would make any sacrifice to extend Yashiro’s short life. “…Why are you smiling?”
“I’m not. Just keep talking.”
“But you are smiling—you were crying a moment ago—”
“I said keep going!”
Hanako flinched. He let out a deep sigh. Now it was his turn to talk, there was no escape. He removed his hat as if to apologize, revealing his short brown hair. He played with the hat in his hands, letting out another sigh. He wondered how many more times he would do that before this conversation ended. Words caught in his chest, choking in his throat, yet he pressed on. After a moment, he gestured toward a low stone wall lining the garden path. “Let’s… sit for a second,” he suggested quietly. The girl softly mouthed, okay.
They moved a few steps to the corner of the Gardening Club shed and settled onto the low stone ledge. The narrow patch of soil beside them smelled faintly of earth and fresh leaves, while a small cluster of tulips at the edge shivered lightly in the breeze. The confined space felt private, almost cocoon-like, shielding them from the rest of the quiet school grounds. They sat down, shoulders just brushing, yet an invisible wall seemed to hang between them. She gave him the space to collect his thoughts. Patient and quiet, she approached the moment with the kind of careful logic that surprised even herself. The boy took a deep breath. “I want to be completely honest with you… from now on,” he admitted.
“You’re right. I don’t want to think about the consequences. The thought of you realizing just how wretched a creature I really am terrifies me. The idea that you might be disgusted by me… no, that you might be afraid of me…” His voice cracked as the words left him, breath growing shallow. It couldn’t kill him—he was already dead—but it hurt all the same.
He gave a shaky laugh. “You must be crazy. I’m a ghost—I don’t even have warmth. And I’m a murderer, and you…” His eyes blurred with tears. A sob caught in his throat. “You’re dying. I should be the one giving you the world. Instead, you dare to give me everything you have. I’m horrible, Yashiro. Whatever you find out about me, it will only push you away. But you don’t care, do you? You… how can you possibly…” He buried his face in his hands. His muffled voice leaked through his fingers.
“Love me…?”
Her eyes widened.
“And damn it, knowing that you love me makes me so happy I want to die all over again!”
Then, suddenly, his hands dropped to his sides, and his lips met a wet, sweet, familiar taste. The anxiety within him melted away, replaced by a safe, warm feeling. It was soothing yet bittersweet, nostalgic,like a lullaby remembered from childhood: soothing, tender, tinged with sorrow. He thought of the Far Shore, of a similar conversation. Since then, neither of them had spoken of that first magical kiss beneath that crumbling stairs.Maybe it was better that way—otherwise Yashiro would surely turn redder than a tomato. As if he wouldn’t be the same. Suddenly, she pulled back, and he stared at her in confusion.
“I realized I’m still mad at you!” she cried.
“What..?”
“That’s right. I remembered all the times you drove me crazy.”
With a sheepish smile, he rolled his eyes. “Sorry.”
“And it’s not just that! I talk and talk, but you never listen!”
“That’s not true—I love listening to you,” Hanako said honestly.
Yashiro’s cheeks flushed, but she held her ground. “You listen, but you don’t hear. The second things get serious, you run away! Making stupid jokes or whatever.”
He sighed again. “Alright, fine, maybe I do crack jokes at the wrong time. I admit it, okay? But hey, I think I did pretty well just now.” He wasn’t fishing for praise, but he wanted her to see that he was trying.
Their lips may be parted, but their eyes remained locked. “Are you really sure you’re such a wretched creature?” she asked, leaning in as if for another kiss but stopping short. This time, he didn’t pull back. He didn’t make any joke to distract her. He didn’t change the topic. Slowly, he nodded.
“Well, I hardly disagree,” she whispered. “When you take off that hat, I see a brave, adorable boy. And the more I get to know him, the more I fall for him.” She kissed him again. “For his beauty.” Another kiss. “And ugly.” One more kiss. Hanako felt tears prick his eyes again, but this time he didn’t fight them. A weight inside his chest began to lift, dissolving into nothing.
He glanced around. This was the place where he’d saved Yashiro from the mermaid’s servants. It felt like forever ago—before everything became so complicated. He had promised to tell her everything, when he was ready. She had never pressed him, not once. One day he would. But not tonight. Not yet. Sniffling, he set his hat back on his head. It seemed not all of the ache in his heart had vanished.
They sat there for a while, hands intertwined, savoring the quiet reassurance they gave each other. Reality hadn’t changed, but Hanako wanted to share in the unwavering faith of the assistant he cared so deeply for—that everything would be alright. He promised himself that he wouldn’t be an obstacle on that path, but a steadfast presence by her side.
It was getting late, and it was time for the girl to leave. He walked her to the school gate. If only I could walk her all the way home, he thought. He knew her house wasn’t far, but the street was dark. Just as she waved and stepped past the gate, he grabbed her arm.
“You said I wasn’t your type…” The words slipped out suddenly. He didn’t even know where they came from—it hadn’t even crossed his mind, at least not today.
“Are you seriously bringing that up now?”
“But your lifeline…”
“Let’s think about that later.”
“I’m dead.”
“I said later.”
“You won’t regret it?”
“Never.”
“Yashiro.”
“If you say ‘but’ one more time, I’m going to scream.”
“I love you,” he confessed. “Maybe more than I should admit. Be careful on your way home.” He waved as though everything had been said.
I finally said it, he thought, watching her bounce with joy, the lightness in her step making her more beautiful than ever. She was cuter when she was happy.
“I’ll find a way that makes everyone happy,” she said.
Hanako’s chest softened. Of course she would think of everyone—that was simply who she was.
“I hope so,” he said under his breath. “I’ve never met anyone who makes what they imagine a reality the way you do.”