Chapter Text
That was a name every student at Kunugigaoka Academy had heard at least once.
Beautiful, brilliant, excelling in both academics and athletics—
no matter how much praise you gave, it was never enough.
Like a flower blooming high out of reach, she quietly continued taking notes, keeping up with the fast-paced lesson without missing a beat.
“Next, Hanagiri.”
“Yes.”
You stood, holding your textbook with both hands as you spoke.
”Kuchi o mote / kiri fuku yori mo komaka naru / ame ni azami no / hana wa nurikeri.
（Translation: Keep your mouth shut, for the rain falls finer than mist, Drenching the petals of the thistle flower.）
…This tanka describes how each petal of a thistle flower is covered in fine droplets of rain… as if it had been gently soaked.”
“Good. Perfect. The poem Hanagiri just recited is a rare one that captures the exact moment after the rain has passed. And in addition—”
Just like always, your name was called.
Just like always, you answered.
Just like always, you returned to your seat.
This moment—so painfully unchanged—
felt, somehow, unbearably dull.
(…Even though I was the one who chose to cut myself off… calling it boring… I guess I’m more selfish than I thought.)
That quiet thought
remained locked deep inside you.