30 A Decade-Long Apology

"You're the one at fault. No matter how you look at it, you're the one at fault."

"That... I understand that..."

"Then apologize right away. Don't pretend to be the victim— you're the perpetrator. Sasamori?"

Yuria, who had half-expected a romantic confession, cut straight through Kou's dilemma.

He had, ten years prior, made a verbal assault—misjudging the other's character—based on a misunderstanding.

Yesterday, he had realized that the misunderstanding might have been his own.

What should he do now?

That was the gist.

"But the misunderstanding was also due to how the other person spoke."

"Fine, Sasamori. The reason doesn't matter."

"No, it does matter."

"Actually. In this situation, it's entirely irrelevant. Once a boy has hurt a girl, it's always the boy's fault!"

Kou, slightly overwhelmed, still asked Yuria.

"...Why are you so angry, you?"

"I'm not angry."

Immediate reply. But Yuria hadn't always been this way.

At first, she had listened with earnestness.

Then, midway—

"Uh-huh. By the way, is that friend a boy?"

"No, a girl."

"Hmm?"

Her mood soured abruptly.

"Good for you, Sasamori. Let me sum up your current state. You misunderstood a girl you once played with, hurt her, and now you can't focus on your work—useless man!"

"Wait—there's deliberate bias in how you're framing this."

"Even if there's bias, it's still the truth."

"It is the truth… but—"

The truth, deliberately edited to be worse.

"What you must do now, Sasamori. Kneel immediately and apologize to that girl! There's nothing else!"

"Will she forgive you?"

Yuria stares at Kou with an expression hard to describe—weak, once he shifts into passivity, despite his usual confidence.

"I don't know anything about that."

Yuria doesn't know who the other person is.

No—actually, she has a slight idea.

True, the other one isn't the type suited for such matters, but excluding her entirely isn't necessary. She'd be useful, if she were there.

"Better prepare for a ten-year backlash. If you're beaten to a pulp and still not forgiven..."

Well, if that happens.

"I'll listen to your complaints, at least."

Yuria smiles faintly.

Kou sees it.

"You look really terrible right now."

"Really? I'm supposed to look full of compassion."

No, that's not it, Kou mutters, rising to his feet.

"What now?"

"I'm going to apologize."

"Sure, sure. Go ahead."

Yuria waves her hand dismissively, watching Kou leave.

"Ahh..."

He groaned into the desk.

"I want a wonderful romance."

◆ ◆ ◆

"Hey, shorty."

"What?"

"You. Again treating me as if I were Mio-chan?"

At the dining hall, Mio and May were eating dinner.

Kou, realizing his greeting had been a mistake, tried again.

"The big one, shorty."

"Zen riddles?"

"Can't tell."

Take two also failed.

"Huh? Chin-chikurin. I need to talk."

"Fine, you've picked a fight."

"Ugh, you two are hopeless!"

Mio, angry.

"Bad words aren't allowed!"

"Yes."

"You must sincerely apologize."

"Sorry."

Following Mio's words, Kou bowed deeply.

May twisted her face into a pleased grimace, watching.

Mio, seeing this, made a guilty expression and muttered.

"Hm? Did you say something? Your voice was too quiet to hear."

……I'm sorry!

Your sincerity is nonexistent. You must demonstrate it more concretely. What exactly are you apologizing for—?

May seizes the moment to confront Kou. She piles on words, sharp and persistent, like a deliberate provocation.

"Ten years ago. I was wrong. I want to apologize."

The words freeze his expression.

"Ten years ago?"

Mio tilts her head, confused.

Kou remains with his head lowered.

Then, May stares at him with eyes that reveal nothing.

Kou does not move. Aware of the surrounding gaze, May pulls his hand and leads him outside the cafeteria.

"Hey, Dad. What happened ten years ago?"

Left behind, Mio sits beside Jin on his left and asks.

"Hmm? Yeah… "

She pauses, thinking.

"Living ten years brings all sorts of things."

"Adults have it tough too…"

"It's tough…"

Meanwhile, Kou was led to the back of the grounds.

The difference in strength was astronomical, so breaking free would have been simple. Yet he followed May without protest, step by step.

There, May regained her usual smile.

"You're really straightforward, Kou. You must have been told something by your Instructor, right?"

"Yeah. That's it."

"Really... I only spoke because I had to, but maybe I should've lied."

As always.

From elementary school, through middle school—no communication at all.

Ever since entering this training academy, May has spoken this way. Overly dramatic, almost theatrical. A performance masking her true intent.

"So you let a stranger's words sway you, and changed your conclusion after ten years?"

"Yeah."

"Simply put... or however you want to put it... being apologized to with such flimsy feelings... what exactly are you apologizing for?"

"For treating you as a counterfeit, a replacement for him."

May's movement halted for a single breath.

"That shouldn't require an apology. It's the truth. If that's all, this conversation ends here."

"It is the truth. But not the real truth."

Kou interrupted May's attempt to end the conversation and continued.

"I kept recalling memories. I kept wondering—inside my own mind, which one was which?"

"How would you know? Memories from ten years ago are vague even for me."

The time when she was known as Jun. It could be said that May and Jun's memories were one. Over time, they had come to mistake shared experiences as their own.

Even May, who was now a participant in the event, could no longer distinguish her true memories.

"There's no way Kou could tell the difference."

"Exactly. Honestly, I couldn't tell either."

"See? Just as I thought."

Saying it aloud, May realized she was feeling disappointment.

Perhaps she had hoped, just slightly, that the distinction had been made.

"One thing I do remember."

"What is it?"

Without expectation, May prompted the next part. Whatever it was, it would surely be something from her own memory—

"If I asked you one more time to tell me that. Say those exact words again. I'll answer when I'm ready."

"Wait—what?"

"To be honest, I'm not certain. I think I heard something like that."

What was that?

May thought. I don't know that.

That phrase wasn't in May's memories—neither hers nor Jun's.

I didn’t understand it at first. But now I do. I thought that was what he should have told you himself.

“What was that?”

I don’t know.

There can’t be unknown memories between me and May.

If there are any—it’s—

“The day before that day.”

The words May refused to tell me, meant to be cruel.

…Stop.

May realized she shouldn’t have listened.

She’d regret it if she heard.

I told him. ‘I like you.’ Then he asked where—so I—

Stop!

She screamed, nearly a wail.

Beneath the mask of May Belwair.

The voice of a girl named Jun, unnamed.

She shouldn’t have listened. She shouldn’t have listened.

Trying to silence the words with her own scream.

"Answered with, 'Sometimes I feel nervous, like I'm in a place I've never been before—but I like how you look when you see me, happy.'"

It had arrived.

The words May had never told Jun, arriving after ten years.

She hadn’t withheld them out of spite.

Now she understood—she had wanted to tell him only this, directly.

That was why regret deepened, over their final exchange.

"Why now? Why say this now!?"

A scream tore from her.

Emotions surged inside, a torrent. The usual mask had washed away—she could not pretend calm.

She screamed without wiping the tears streaming from her eyes.

"I was fine just as I was! I'm the bad one who stole May's place! All that remains in Kou's memory is that girl! That was enough!"

"But that's not it! Some of the May figures in my memory—some of them are you. What I fell for back then—"

"Don't say it!"

Kou froze at the shout.

"It's too late now... already."

"I'm sorry. But I want to say it. You might not even want to see my face... but..."

"It's too late..."

May turned sharply.

The sudden dash caught Kou off guard.

A moment's hesitation. To May, that was more than enough space to expand.

She slipped through a narrow passage too tight for Kou, vanishing toward the girls' dormitory.