Childhood sweethearts are, without a doubt, truly remarkable beings.

"I'm back."

He opened the door, took off his shoes, and stepped inside. As he entered the living room, the aroma of dinner wafted through the air.

"You're home. You’re a bit later than usual," his mother greeted him.

"Yeah, I was out with Sakurako for a bit," he replied.

"Oh my... has my son finally awakened to the ways of the world? I'm so pleased," his mother teased.

"It's not like that at all."

Saying this, Tsukasa Jinguuji headed to the washroom to cleanse his hands, then went into another room and placed the bread he had bought before the household altar.

A short while later, his mother, Yuko Jinguuji, called from outside the house.

"Tsukasa, dinner’s ready."

"Got it."

After dinner, Tsukasa helped clear the dishes and then settled in the living room. A variety show flickered on the television; he turned the volume down and picked up his novel.

"By the way, you’re working tomorrow, aren’t you? Shall I make you a lunch box? It’s been a while since I have."

"No need. Since you’re finally off on the weekend, you should take it easy at home."

"Is that so? Well, make sure you eat properly at noon."

"I will."

Just then, the doorbell rang. His mother, busy washing dishes, called for Tsukasa to answer it.

He opened the door to find Sakurako Sakuragi, now dressed in casual clothes: a pure white, short-sleeved top with a floral braid, covered by a light pink slip dress that radiated sweet youthful charm.

Her short hair looked silky and smooth, and she carried a pleasant fragrance, as if she’d just taken a bath.

"What brings you here?" Tsukasa asked.

The girl seemed still preoccupied by whatever had happened on their way home, unable to meet his gaze, her cheeks tinged with red as she replied awkwardly.

"My mother’s family sent us a lot of vegetables and fruit from the countryside. She asked me to share some with you."

"Who’s at the door, Tsukasa?" Yuko Jinguuji called from the living room.

"It’s Sakurako," he replied.

"Well, in any case, come on in," Tsukasa said to her.

Sakurako nodded quietly and lifted the box of produce, stepping into the Jinguuji home. Tsukasa took the box from her arms, while she silently slipped off her shoes, revealing petite feet clad in pure white socks embroidered with little rabbits.

"Sorry for intruding."

Once inside, Tsukasa carried the box into the open kitchen and, under his mother’s direction, set it in its proper place.

"Thank you, Sakurako-chan. Please give my thanks to your mother as well."

"Mm..."

Because of what had happened on the way home, Sakurako felt a bit awkward being alone with Tsukasa. She had intended to leave quickly, but Yuko Jinguuji’s warm insistence compelled her to take some snacks home, so she lingered as Yuko bustled about, gathering treats.

Incidentally, Yuko Jinguuji worked at a trading company, and often brought home the firm’s featured products.

So, the living room was left with just Tsukasa and Sakurako, and the atmosphere was undeniably awkward.

The girl sat uneasily, reflecting that she might have spoken too harshly earlier, and was determined to apologize.

The unspoken tension hung between them until—

"Uh, Tsukasa, may I go talk to her for a bit?"

Tsukasa glanced in that direction, nodded quietly. "She’ll be happy to see you."

"Okay."

Sakurako tiptoed into another room, knelt before the family altar, and struck the brass bell.

Tsukasa gazed blankly at her back for a moment, then rose and stepped out into the garden, staring absentmindedly at the moon overhead.

He didn’t know how much time passed before the sound of the sliding door opening behind him broke the silence. Sakurako joined him outside, standing by his side.

Her presence brought him an inexplicable sense of peace. The full moon hung high above, its reflection shining in his eyes as he asked softly,

"What did you say to her?"

"I apologized," she murmured.

"Why?"

"I said something I shouldn't have to her brother. I asked her how to make things right."

He was silent for a moment.

"And what did she say?"

"She said, ‘Tsukasa would never be angry with me.’ At least… probably," she added.

Tsukasa blinked, turned to look at her, and met her amber eyes, bright and shining.

"That sounds like her," he said.

"Doesn’t it?" Sakurako smiled gently.

Just a few brief words, and the unpleasantness from their walk home seemed to vanish into thin air.

It was strange, almost miraculous.

So many times in his life, Tsukasa had felt as if he were lost in an endless forest, surrounded by fog that blocked his sight, wandering until he lost his way—and himself.

He would falter, afraid to take another step, unable even to retreat.

But Sakurako was different. She, too, might feel lost and uncertain, but she never stopped moving forward, and she always tried to reach out a hand to him when he stood still.

Tsukasa looked at the childhood friend beside him, with whom he had shared more than ten years of his life. Memories flooded his mind—they’d been together for as long as he could remember.

Naturally, there had been quarrels and silent treatments, but they always made up in the end. They stumbled along the same path, sometimes taking separate forks, only for those paths to reunite once more.

Tsukasa thought that perhaps five years, ten years, or even longer from now, this girl would still be by his side, her side ponytail swaying in the wind.

Childhood friends truly were magical beings.

"Hey, Sakurako," he said.

"Yeah?"

Tsukasa gazed at the moon. "I think I’m tired of being the kind of jerk all the girls like."

Sakurako wrinkled her nose and snorted. "What’s that supposed to mean? Are you bragging? You’re so annoying, Tsukasa~"

"Does it sound like I’m bragging?"

"Don’t get too full of yourself. There are plenty of boys in our club chasing after me, you know! I bet you had no idea!"

She put on an air of pride, forgetting entirely that she was supposed to have a boyfriend.

Tsukasa, unfazed, replied softly, "I know. There’s Tanaka, and Koizumi."

"Eh? How did you know, Tsukasa?" Sakurako was shocked.

He glanced at her. "Probably because you’ve been making it obvious on purpose."

"I would never do something like that!"

She turned away, embarrassed, twisting her ponytail around her finger—adorable without meaning to be.

They fell silent for a long while, until Tsukasa finally let out a long breath and said, from the heart,

"Thank you, Sakurako."

"For what?"

He considered, then replied calmly, "Thank you for still being here."

Sakurako’s cheeks flushed. In the moonlight, the crystal on her ponytail shimmered.

"You dummy, Tsukasa. I promised your sister I’d raise you into a fine man."

"But I don’t have any memory of you raising me."

"That’s exactly why you ended up such a jerk. I don’t know how I’ll ever face your sister again."

Tsukasa laughed softly.

"Looks like we’ll both get scolded together, then."

"Hmph—"

"Who says I’ll be scolded with you."

But then she, too, laughed quietly.