Back when they were still going to school together, Mitsuha had witnessed more than one girl confess to Haruto. There was even a time when a classmate asked her to pass along a love letter to him. But that was all later on. As far as any confession under a tree… Mitsuha had never heard of such a thing.
"That was ages ago," Haruto said casually. "She was a senior—a few years older. I'm not telling you who, though. It wouldn't mean anything now. She left Itomori long ago and transferred to a school somewhere else."
"Was it someone I know?" Mitsuha asked quickly.
"Hmm… maybe? Not sure," Haruto replied with a noncommittal shrug. "It's possible. Everyone in Itomori's kind of connected somehow. The town's not exactly big, after all."
From what he knew, the girl who had confessed was distantly related to the Miyamizu family—barely a relative, really, more of a family acquaintance. He'd only found out later after asking his mother. Mitsuha probably didn't know.
"Who was it?" Mitsuha asked again, curiosity clearly getting the better of her. She stared at Haruto, practically demanding the answer with her eyes.
Haruto smiled, not taking the bait. Instead, he turned to look at Sekai and Setsuna beside him. "Let's go check out the main school building. I wonder how different it is from when I was a student."
"That's probably going to be disappointing," Mitsuha replied, folding her arms. "Nothing's really changed since you graduated. If anything, there are even fewer students now. Though there is a new teacher—apparently from Tokyo."
"Tokyo?" Haruto echoed, genuinely surprised.
He was familiar with the teacher rotation policy: teachers are usually rotated after three years in one school and must transfer after six. The system allowed for movement between cities, towns, and villages, and it was designed to balance educational resources more fairly. Teachers who accepted posts in rural areas often earned higher salaries than those in urban areas.
From Haruto's perspective, the rotation system had pros and cons, but overall, he thought it was beneficial.
Still, hearing that someone from Tokyo had been transferred to a rural town like Itomori to teach junior high was... unexpected.
"She's really elegant," Mitsuha added, giving him a slightly suspicious look.
Haruto didn't rise to the implication. Instead, he turned his gaze toward the school building with a hint of nostalgia. "There are fewer and fewer students in Itomori. I wonder how much longer the school can hold on."
He started walking toward the building. Mitsuha, who had more to say, hesitated when she saw him already walking away. She bit back her words and quickly caught up. Sekai gave the tree one last glance before following along with Setsuna, the three girls trailing after Haruto.
The school was completely deserted during the summer holidays. Not a single student or teacher in sight. In weather this hot, everyone preferred to stay home and hide from the relentless sun.
"It's so cool in here," Setsuna said as they stepped inside. "It's blazing hot outside, but as soon as you enter the school building, it feels so refreshing."
The shade and the breeze blowing through the hallways were a welcome relief. Haruto glanced at Mitsuha, briefly tempted to share one of the creepy school legends he remembered. But he held back—worried it might scare her and make her avoid the school altogether.
He pointed down the hallway. "That's where my old classroom was."
Mitsuha didn't even glance that way—she already knew. She'd never been interested. Sekai and Setsuna, however, both turned curiously toward the classroom.
"I'm going to check out my own classroom," Mitsuha said. "Just call me when we're leaving."
Without waiting for a response, she walked away, leaving the other three watching her back as she disappeared down the hallway. Haruto sighed slightly but didn't try to stop her.
"Well then," he said, "shall we take a look?"
Sekai and Setsuna nodded. The truth was, they were very interested in the classroom where Haruto had spent his middle school years. And perhaps—more than that—they were curious about the girl who had once confessed to him here. But of course, neither of them said it out loud. They simply tucked those thoughts away, maybe to ask again someday when the time was right.
The classroom door was open. Inside, the windows were shut tight, so Haruto walked over to one and opened it to let in some air.
The room was both familiar and unfamiliar. In some ways, it hadn't changed—but in others, it felt completely different from when he was a student. Most of the traces of his time there were already gone.
"It's changed a lot," he said softly. "But the layout's the same. Oh... this sticker is still here."
He walked to the blackboard and looked at the faded butterfly sticker stuck to the wall beside it. Reaching out, he gently touched it with a finger.
"Did you put that there?" Setsuna asked, watching him.
"No. A girl from class did," Haruto replied. "I was going to peel it off, but then I got curious about how long it would last. Turns out, no one's removed it even now."
He thought for a moment.
"It must've been over a year by now."
"A year?" Setsuna repeated, blinking.
"The classrooms change over time," Haruto explained as he stepped further into the room. "In my final year of junior high, I was here. Before that, I was in another classroom."
"Did you sit in the back row?" Setsuna asked curiously.
"Right here."
He walked over to a seat by the window—the very last one in the row. Back then, he'd been the tallest student in class.
"It's pretty much the same as my seat at Toyosaki. Just that I went from sitting in the last row… to second-last now."
There were a few taller people in Itomori, but none his age. Among his peers, he had always been the tallest, which meant he sat in the back. It wasn't until he moved to Tokyo that he ended up with only one person taller than him in class.
He looked down at the desk, placing a hand on its slightly worn surface. A quiet sigh escaped him. The memories came flooding back—and a twinge of longing. Life in Itomori had been slower, more peaceful.
Tokyo, of course, wasn't overly suffocating, especially at Toyosaki. But just the atmosphere of a metropolis weighed on you. Even if you didn't want to move forward, there were always countless hands—pushing, pulling, dragging you along whether you liked it or not.
"A girl who longs for a simple life is admired. But a guy who does the same… is seen as weak."
The phrase popped into Haruto's mind—he wasn't even sure where he'd first heard it. He looked out the window at the modest schoolyard, the quiet fields stretching out in the distance. Just watching it all brought him a strange peace. He closed his eyes.
Everyone has a dream of poetry and far-off places, he thought. But when you open your eyes again, it's always rice, bills, and the price of cooking oil.
"Of course, city life is more convenient," he murmured. "Itomori only really has this relaxed atmosphere. This kind of calm is probably better suited to the elderly. For young people… it's probably better to aim higher."
There was no passion in his voice, no fire. To Setsuna, it sounded like a cat that had been scolded too many times—softly curling up and showing its belly to the world, helpless and a bit defeated. She found herself wondering: What kind of life does Haruto really want?
Sekai had been watching, too. She listened carefully, catching every word in the quiet classroom. Even though Haruto wasn't speaking loudly, his thoughts carried clearly. It made her realize that she still didn't understand him that deeply. Her gaze drifted to Setsuna—who was also staring at him, absorbed in his words. Sekai pressed her lips together.
They wandered the school for another hour or so before leaving. Walking through the streets of Itomori, Haruto greeted elders and acquaintances with quiet politeness, even the ones he wasn't particularly fond of.
"Why'd you greet that guy from the Iwamura family?" Mitsuha grumbled once they'd passed. She had come up beside Haruto, keeping her voice low. Her expression was clearly annoyed.
Setsuna and Sekai picked up on the tension, but didn't say anything. Haruto didn't hide the situation from them.
"You're still hung up on what happened that year?"
"It's not about being hung up," Mitsuha said, fuming. "What he did was really awful."
"But didn't he already apologize?"
"Still…"
Mitsuha huffed and sped up, overtaking him and jogging ahead toward the house. Haruto let out a small sigh and glanced toward the two girls beside him. They looked curious, so he offered a little context.
"It was about three years ago. You see, the Miyamizu family—my family—is responsible for overseeing the shrine here. Mitsuha and Yotsuha sometimes act as shrine maidens during festivals. But back then, that guy from the Iwamura family got drunk while helping with preparations. He caused a scene—nearly ruined the whole ritual. Mitsuha's never really forgiven him."
Hearing that it had to do with a festival, both Sekai and Setsuna showed visible surprise. The image of Mitsuha in a miko (shrine maiden) outfit immediately popped into their minds. They suddenly seemed more interested.
"Mitsuha's a shrine maiden?" Setsuna asked.
"Not usually," Haruto replied. "Only during festivals or ceremonies. That's when the girls in the Miyamizu family help out."
"And you…?" Sekai started to ask.
"I'm not. And I've never worn a shrine maiden outfit, either."
Haruto frowned slightly—then just as quickly relaxed. The flicker of emotion hadn't gone unnoticed by either girl, who exchanged subtle glances but didn't press the issue.
They chatted idly on the way home, and soon enough, they arrived.
Later that afternoon, Yotsuha and Futaba returned home carrying bags of fresh fruit. Spotting Mitsuha already back, the others came in soon after. They pulled out a chilled watermelon from the fridge.
"It's been cooling for an hour. Haruto, you cut it."
Futaba handed him the knife, and Haruto didn't object. He started slicing the watermelon without hesitation—
The bathroom wasn't very big.
Mitsuha had been planning to jump in and bathe with Setsuna, but Haruto grabbed her by the collar and hauled her back into the living room. Setsuna and Sekai managed to slip into the bathroom without incident.
"Are you stupid? You can't fit three people in that bathroom."
"How would you know if we don't try?!"
"Maybe you should try standing on your head and see if something screws loose in that brain of yours."
"Only someone who bullies his own little sister would say something like that. Hmph!"
The two siblings bickered back and forth. Futaba ignored them. Yotsuha, the youngest, silently brought Haruto a cup of tea, then plopped herself into his lap and shot Mitsuha a smug little smile. The smirk clearly said: I win.
Mitsuha glared daggers at her.
Yotsuha pretended not to notice and went back to watching TV.
"Haruto, you've started writing a new book, haven't you?" Futaba asked.
"Yeah. I've already started," he replied.
"Are you planning to become a full-time writer?"
It hadn't even been six months since he moved to Tokyo, and her son was already gaining recognition as a young author. Futaba was proud, of course—but also a bit worried. She'd spoken with her husband earlier that day, and they ended up discussing Haruto's writing career. Now, with just the family around, she finally brought it up directly.
"There's a chance," Haruto said thoughtfully. "But if possible, I'd like to prioritize school. If I can get into university and go deeper into research, maybe I could stay on and teach someday."
"Something in academics?" she asked.
"Yeah."