Kurume
The school hallway felt endless.
Miyako sat on a bench by the window.
A book in her hands — one she wasn't even reading.
I walked up.
Slowly. Too carefully.
Like every word could be a landmine.
— "Hey," I said.
She didn't answer. Just turned a page.
Silently. Mechanically.
— "I talked to Sayo."
Miyako looked up. Her eyes held worry. And exhaustion.
— "And?"
— "She spread the rumors. On purpose. So you wouldn't trust me."
— "And you think I'm just stupid enough to believe them?"
— "No! I—" I stumbled. "I knew you had doubts. I did too. I messed everything up. But I wasn't with her. Not once. Not even a little."
— "Then why would she…"
— "Because she's in love. Desperately. Dangerously."
Miyako looked down again.
— "Too many words, Kurume."
— "Then let me try something else."
I pulled out my phone and found the recording.
The one I made when talking to Sayo.
> "You should be with me. Not her."
"I'll stay. Always."
"A lie is just a kind of truth no one wants to hear."
I handed her the phone.
She took it. Listened. All the way through.
Then… she smiled. Sadly.
— "You really are an idiot," she whispered. "But maybe not a total one."
— "So… you believe me?"
She met my eyes. For a long time.
Then stood up.
— "I don't forgive easily, Kurume."
— "I'm not asking for that. I just want to walk beside you. Again."
A pause. A forever.
— "Alright. One step."
And she took that step — toward me.
Later
Sayo stood by the door.
Watching us.
Like a chess player realizing her pieces were crumbling.
— "This is only the beginning," she whispered, unblinking.
I looked straight into her eyes.
Without fear.