In this way, there was nothing left in me, inside or out, that could truly be called my own.

“Hey, hey, look, it’s the Student Council President. What’s she doing here?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa… Who’s the handsome guy next to her?”
“You don’t know him? That’s Shinguji from Class A.”
“Wait, really? That’s him? It’s my first time seeing him in person—he really is good-looking.”
“You’re such a hopeless romantic. Even if he’s a player, you’re interested?”
“What’s wrong with being a player? He’s not playing me. Just answer me, is he handsome or not? Would you take him if you had the chance?”
The two girls whispered among themselves, their eyes lingering on the boy standing at the entrance of the clubroom. By accident, they met his cold gaze as he swept his eyes across the classroom.
The autumn sunlight, streaming through the corridor windows, danced on the boy’s shoulders.
The girls blushed in unison.
“…I would,” one of them murmured, head down.
“Shameless!”
“Mmm~~”
…
…
Almost every time he entered a new clubroom, a similar scene would play out.
Shinguji Tsuki did his best not to meet the eyes of the girls inside, but when the club members realized the famous Shinguji Tsuki was visiting, their expressions ranged from astonished to awestruck.
No boys ever welcomed him—especially not in clubs with a couple of girls. The moment those boys saw Shinguji Tsuki standing at the door, he could feel their heated hostility.
It was obvious that this club didn’t welcome him either. He’d expected as much, so he didn’t feel hurt.
“Shinguji, this is…”
“Not interested.”
Before Hoshinomori Hoshino, his guide, could introduce the club, Shinguji Tsuki, weary of their stares, turned away and walked off, giving off an aloof air of superiority.
Hoshinomori Hoshino bowed apologetically to the club members, then hurried after Shinguji Tsuki, leaving the students inside exchanging baffled looks.
“Shinguji, please wait.”
Shinguji Tsuki suddenly halted, and Hoshinomori Hoshino nearly collided with his back, only managing to pull up short and take two steps back.
“President Hoshinomori.”
“What is it?”
“I want to go home.”
“Mm, once you find a club that suits you, you can go home early. Tomorrow you’ll officially join club activities.”
“How disrespectful. I’m a formal member of the Going Home Club.”
“I don’t recall ever approving such a club, even though I’m the Student Council President.”
“That’s fine. I joined the Going Home Club at another high school.”
“You think with an answer like that, I’ll just say, ‘Well, nothing can be done’? Are you underestimating me, Shinguji?”
“Not at all. I just think, President Hoshinomori, you’re really pretty, but being so persistent makes people see you as clingy. It’s a bit scary.”
The girl’s left eye involuntarily narrowed, her eyelid twitching for a moment.
“Trying to provoke me on purpose won’t work.”
“What a pity.” Shinguji Tsuki let out an obvious sigh.
He raised an arm and kneaded the back of his neck, displaying a helpless expression.

He gazed languidly out the window for a while, the slices of chicken breast long vanished—who knows whose stomach they ended up in.
“President, we’ve already visited more than ten clubs. I’m really tired. Maybe it’s time you acknowledged something.”
“If you mean the fact that other students dislike you, I knew that from the start.”
“—I’m not disliked.”
“Mm, though I’d love to play along, unfortunately, you’re right.”
Hoshinomori Hoshino narrowed her eyes, smiling quietly.
“Huh? You’re kidding. Could it be, your real purpose is to help me make friends? Whoa…”
Shinguji Tsuki immediately stepped back, exaggeratedly scratching his arms. “Please no, I can’t handle those model good students straight out of a manga. It’s too much, too much.”
“Shinguji, just as people say, you’re full of lies.”
“Exactly, I’ve always said so.” Shinguji Tsuki nodded in agreement.
Ignoring his theatrics, the girl lifted her face, her smile fading, her eyes calm as though she could see straight through him.
“I really can’t stand people without any sense of self. Just hollow shells who only try to please others. Don’t you find that… terribly empty?”
The frivolity Shinguji Tsuki had been acting out was nearly shattered by her words.
He recalled—it was the second time she’d said this.
So that’s how it is.
Even if memories are erased, even if the stories between them become events that never happened, even if those things remain only in Shinguji Tsuki’s heart, never to be known by her.
Even if she forgets how deeply she once loved the boy before her.
Even so.
Hoshinomori Hoshino is still the same as she was at the start.
—To someone who forgets everything, what does the world look like?
Ordinary people, naturally, forget many things, everything.
But I often remember, with painful clarity, even what I should forget.
Having an eidetic memory is nothing to envy.
So, if I didn’t have it, could I forget all those things completely?
If only I could forget, perhaps I wouldn’t remember anything at all.
Childhood birthdays, promises made on the way home, the windowsill in my bedroom, last night’s dinner—if I couldn’t remember any of it.
Then, there’d be nothing in me, inside or out, that was truly mine. At best, I’d be clutching a handful of ashes from ruins.
So, attributing my clear memories to my eidetic recall is probably just an excuse to escape.
—Even without it, I’d still never forget.
“Ahhh~ President! I finally found you!”
The silence between them was shattered by a high-pitched voice from afar.
Like a little animal bursting through a meadow, bleating like a lost lamb, a creature rushed toward them, stumbling and bumping as she came.
She charged ahead, unstoppable, even in the corridor where running was forbidden.
“Eek—!”
Hoshinomori Hoshino let out a startled, cute sound. Before she could react, the loud voice assaulted her ears again, while Shinguji Tsuki had already plugged his ears with his fingers.
“Why?! I never did anything to hurt you, President! Why are you targeting me? I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”

“Yamamiya…”
The petite girl had no intention of listening. She glanced around, ignored Shinguji Tsuki, and carefully pulled a thick envelope—about three or four centimeters—from her uniform pocket, shoving it firmly into Hoshinomori Hoshino’s arms.
“Hurry! Don’t let anyone see.”
“……”
“Not joining club activities—I’m counting on you, boss.” The short girl bent forward, rubbing her hands and grinning obsequiously.
That envelope probably had yokan in it, thought the boy.
“Shinguji…” The previously cold-faced Hoshinomori Hoshino now looked at him, pleading for help.
“Huh?! There’s another person! Oh no, now I’ll have to silence you.”
This girl’s an idiot.
Shinguji Tsuki immediately reached a conclusion in his mind.
“You know, it’s not safe to discuss important matters here. Outsiders could overhear. Of course, I didn’t hear a thing just now.” Shinguji Tsuki flashed a fake smile.
“Oh! You’re a good person!” The petite girl showed no reaction to Shinguji Tsuki’s lady-killer grin, instead grinning back at him.
“Of course, I’m a friend to all beautiful girls.”
“You’re pretty good—I’ll remember you. President, there are ears everywhere, let’s talk somewhere else!”
“Wait! Shinguji! Help…”
“Farewell to you (sayonara).”
Shinguji Tsuki put on a kindly expression like a country store granny, waving gently to Hoshinomori Hoshino as she was dragged away, as if bidding her goodbye.
Once the two girls were truly out of sight, Shinguji Tsuki’s limp hand dropped, his fake smile faded into calm indifference.
The school broadcast echoed through the halls—time to leave.
Outside, the clouds were dyed crimson, spreading across the sky, just like the blush on the girls’ faces when he used to flirt with them.
“Time to go home,” he murmured to himself.
…
…
Shinguji Tsuki stepped out from the main entrance of Jiyugaoka Station. By the dessert shop, a girl stared through the glass at the display case, her eyes shining, motionless.
She wore the Shinzakura High School uniform, her shoulder bag’s zipper half open, revealing a corner of her tracksuit wrapped in a laundry bag.
Pretending not to notice her, Shinguji Tsuki silently walked by.
Suddenly, a pale arm blocked his path. He glanced at the girl’s outstretched hand—her arm slender, nails neatly trimmed, the lines on her palm crisscrossed like a labyrinth.
“What are you staring at?”
The girl was still pressed against the display, never once looking at Shinguji Tsuki, as if she was speaking not to him, but to the pastries inside.
The transparent glass reflected the boy’s confused face. The girl turned her head, her eyes crescent-shaped, her smile goofy but steady, somehow bringing peace.
“Hehe… I forgot my wallet. It’s been a long day, I’m exhausted and starving. Treat me, will you?”