Some things are not entirely absent from the beginning.

September 2nd, Wednesday.

After the morning homeroom meeting, Tsukimitsu Jinguuji gazed absentmindedly out the window at the deserted schoolyard.

He wasn’t particularly fond of window ledges, but if he imagined the windowsill as a giant television frame, then every day after school, during club time, Class 2-A’s “television” would broadcast some hackneyed drama praising the glory of youth. With that image in mind, he could just about tolerate it.

Not that he ever obediently sat in front of the “television” at that hour, anyway.

Across the azure sky, strange clouds drifted by—somewhat resembling the slices of chicken breast Sakurakoji Sakura had simmered at his house last night.

Those clouds probably wouldn’t taste any good, he thought.

In truth, Tsukimitsu’s mood was rather pleasant. In the past, he’d probably be using LINE to send the same cheesy messages to five or six different girls at once.

But today, his phone had not received a single message.

An unprecedented calm, as refreshing as greeting New Year’s morning in new underwear—it made every pore in his body seem to breathe freely.

Long live singlehood!

No longer a slave to the System, his will would no longer be twisted. From now on, he could finally be a bona fide Tokyo heartthrob and pursue a romance not coerced by the System, but born from his own heart—wahoo!

...Just kidding.

Tsukimitsu had no interest in such things. After three years with dyed blond hair, his greatest realization was that romance turned people into prehistoric apes—he had no desire to join that crowd.

At that moment, a short-haired, tan-skinned girl walked over to him with light steps.

“Jinguuji, Hasebe-sensei wants to see you in the office.”

Tsukimitsu glanced at Sakura Sakurakoji, who had stopped at his desk, and nodded. “Got it.”

In public, Sakura Sakurakoji never acted overly familiar with him—no one knew they were childhood friends.

He understood his reputation and had nothing to complain about. If his problems led to Sakura being discriminated against or bullied, that was the last thing he wanted.

When he reached the staff room, Hasebe-sensei delivered some less-than-pleasant news.

His privilege, earned as the top student in his year—the exemption from club activities—was being revoked.

Less “not so good news” and more an unprecedented, catastrophic crisis.

This meant Tsukimitsu would have to dutifully participate in club activities from now on, bidding a complete farewell to his 1,150 yen-per-hour part-time job. He could postpone his shifts, perhaps, but he had reasons not to come home too late.

“May I ask the reason for this change?” he inquired.

“I’m sorry, but this was a decision by the Student Council.”

So that’s it.

Because he dumped the Student Council President over the summer, the brilliant and beautiful president was now taking petty revenge?

But that didn’t quite add up. According to the system’s display when he uninstalled it, she should have lost all memories of him.

Though this sounded unbelievable, Tsukimitsu knew all too well the power of the System—he was certain of it.

Besides, she wasn’t that kind of person.

“Well, Jinguuji, I don’t intend to meddle in students’ romantic lives, but please don’t cause any emotional drama at school…”

“Sensei, you’re mistaken. The president and I aren’t like that.” Tsukimitsu cut him off before he could finish.

“Eh? Is…is that so?”

Well, not anymore.

“Sorry, Sensei, I spoke out of turn.”

Looking embarrassed, Hasebe-sensei scratched his head and then, with almost explicit relief, let out a breath—probably worried that such an outstanding student might be led astray by Tsukimitsu.

After leaving the staff room, Tsukimitsu stood for a moment in thought, then silently returned to his classroom.

He barely paid attention in the classes that followed, his mind preoccupied with how to resolve this situation.

As for that ex-girlfriend, he didn’t feel anything special for her. Their relationship had existed solely to fulfill the System’s tasks—no affection, no longing.

Aside from a trace of guilt and regret, his heart was empty.

“Jinguuji, Jinguuji… Jinguuji!”

“Come up and solve this problem.”

Snapping back to reality, he walked to the blackboard, still thinking about the Student Council President, glanced at the board, and picked up a piece of chalk.

“Uh… absolutely correct.”

“Ahem! Even if you’ve memorized everything in the book, you shouldn’t be distracted during class.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

Except for his childhood friend in the front row, chin propped on one hand and unmoving, every other student in the room glanced at him in unison.

Tsukimitsu paid them no mind and returned to his seat by the window.

In any case, daydreaming in class would solve nothing. He decided to visit the Student Council and see his recently-dumped ex-girlfriend.

…

…

After school.

The Student Council room was at the far end of the fourth floor in the old school building—a space that had once been a music room. After the new building was completed and equipped with a modern music room, this one became the Student Council’s domain.

Given the president’s personality, she’d certainly be there now, working through documents. The start of the second semester, after all, was a chaotic time.

It was Tsukimitsu’s first time coming here. Apart from his grades, he was a delinquent with nothing in common with those model students.

He reached the classroom at the corner of the fourth floor. The large, heavy wooden double doors were tightly closed, the frame and surrounding walls bearing the marks of time—but the whole area was immaculate, especially the nameplate reading “Student Council Room” set above the doors, clearly the result of meticulous cleaning.

As expected of an honors students’ gathering place.

Thinking this, he knocked on the door.

Knock, knock, knock—

“Come in.”

Even muffled by the wooden door, that familiar voice gave Tsukimitsu a moment’s pause.

Even though he was sure she’d forgotten their relationship, he hesitated in the doorway until her “Come in” sounded again from inside. At last, he pushed open the door in silence.

The Student Council room was spacious and bright. On the windowsill sat a small, unidentified green plant, and the early autumn breeze flowed in unrestrained, making the sheer white curtains at either end sway gently—almost as if she’d left her wings behind.

There sat a girl.

Her white blouse was spotless, a crimson bow at her collar poised as if a light breath would make it flutter to her fingertips.

She was Hoshino Morihoshi, President of the Kamizakura High Student Council.

On the desk before her, stacks of documents mixed with neatly folded transparent food wrappers—held down by her pencil case—still stained with oil.

Tsukimitsu knew what those had held: her favorite honey pork floss bread.

Bought from the station front.

A little expensive.

Three hundred and twenty yen, before tax.

Their first indirect kiss tasted of honey pork floss.

The girl at the desk looked up and met Tsukimitsu’s gaze.

She capped her fountain pen with a barely audible click, then raised her hand naturally to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, showing a gentle honors student’s smile.

Her long, silky celestial-blue hair shimmered like glass, reminding Tsukimitsu of the fireworks he’d seen through the window that night—a beauty somehow distant and veiled.

The most beautiful girl in Meguro Ward, her smile stunning as a matter of course.

As he looked upon her smiling face, Tsukimitsu suddenly remembered the day they broke up. Her tears, compared to other girls’, were not particularly different.

He didn’t care for girls’ tearful faces, but seeing her composed and open smile now—

He couldn’t help but feel something buzzing relentlessly inside his heart.