359 - Story About Buying My Classmate Once A Week

**Chapter 359** Amidst the crowd, the thought of holding hands crosses my mind. Yet the festival remains delightful even without holding hands, and we're both wearing yukatas. Even if we get separated, it's a place we can find our way back from alone. With our smartphones, we can easily decide on a meeting point to reunite. So, it's okay not to hold hands. And besides, Miyagi adorably holds onto the sleeve of my yukata, which is enough for me. There are myriad reasons to justify not holding hands, and I smile at Miyagi. “Do you want to watch the mikoshi a little longer?” As soon as I pose the question, an eager "yes" escapes Miyagi’s lips. While I wonder what she finds so enjoyable, Miyagi's gaze isn't on me, but rather focused on the swaying mikoshi that moves with energetic cheers. It's the perfect summer scene, yet my eyes see only Miyagi. Her cheeks glow with a faint blush, perhaps due to the heat. Eyes that don’t meet mine. The plumeria earrings hidden beneath her black hair. The yukata that suits Miyagi so exceptionally well. I shift the arm that she clings to ever so slightly. Her eyes finally meet mine. With the mikoshi growing distant, I speak to her. “Miyagi, open your mouth.” “...Why?” “I'll feed you some baby castella.” I show her the bag of baby castella I had bought earlier. Miyagi furrows her brows and reaches her hand out, prompting me to move the bag away from her. “You can't move it, Sendai-san.” “I said I'd feed you.” “...Then I don’t want it.” With a low voice, she retracts her outstretched hand. “Sorry. Just take one; it’s a treat.” I hand her the bag, and she peers at me suspiciously. When I urge her again to eat, she plucks a baby castella from the bag, its sweet aroma filling the air as she takes a bite. “Tasty?” “Tasty.” Answering softly, Miyagi takes another baby castella from the bag and eats it. “Should we check out more stalls?” “Are we leaving?” “The mikoshi has moved on, but do you still wish to stay here, Miyagi?” “...No, let’s see the stalls.” We walk, eating the baby castella. “Anything you want?” We return to the shrine we walked by earlier, and I inquire with Miyagi. “Not really.” “How about something to eat?” “Not really.” “‘Not really’ doesn’t help me understand.” “I’ll leave it to you, Sendai-san.” Even though she doesn’t have anything she particularly wants or wants to eat, I’m not ready to head back yet. No matter if it's for one hour or two, I just want to keep walking alongside Miyagi. Such is the somewhat trivial motivation for walking through the shrine, but to me, this reason holds immense importance. Miyagi grips my sleeve tightly. I slow my pace and ask her. “Do you want to hold hands after all?” “No.” Though her voice lacks kindness, the hand clutching my sleeve doesn't let go. We leisurely stroll amidst the lively and cheerful atmosphere. The bag of baby castella empties, and I deposit it in the designated trash disposal. Festivals are always crowded. If you’re careless, you could easily be swept away by the waves of people. Though the weight on my sleeve assures me of her presence, I occasionally glance at Miyagi beside me. Even when our eyes meet, Miyagi says nothing. Though it’s a time that might as well be called evening, there’s no breeze, and it’s not cool. Sweat beads on my forehead. Yet neither the heat, the crowds, nor the silent Miyagi bother me. The tide of happy people feels comforting. Miyagi’s pace slows. We stroll so very, very slowly. It’s too slow even for me, who wishes to walk with Miyagi for hours. —Too slow. It's so slow that it felt unnatural, it’s evident even without asking her. “Miyagi?” I turn my focus away from the stalls and towards her. “Don’t look at me, Sendai-san; just walk.” Miyagi pushes my arm brusquely. “...Are you not feeling well?” “It’s nothing.” She responds immediately, almost angry. Typically, her tone would just indicate a lousy mood, but something feels off. Could it be... No, it’s quite certain. “...Your feet?” I lower my gaze from Miyagi’s face. I focus on her feet as she continues walking. There are so many people that it’s hard to tell with everyone moving around. But, all things considered, her matching geta seem to be the cause. “Miyagi, your feet hurt, don’t they?” I stop and grasp Miyagi's arm, clinging to my sleeve. “They don’t.” “Miyagi.” “I’m fine.” “You’re not fine. Show me your feet.” “I’m telling you, it’s fine. Besides, stopping here will be in the way. Let’s go.” With a voice more irritated than usual, Miyagi insists on continuing. However, her pace remains slow. Steady, slow steps. I look at Miyagi's face. Her frown is deep. Her eyes sharp. In such times, it wouldn't even be surprising if she kicked me, yet she silently continues walking. Only because we’re outside. Only because she’s wearing geta. She might refrain from kicking me just for those reasons, but considering her slow pace, there must be more to it. The cause can only be strap chafing. “Then let’s go back to where we had takoyaki earlier. It's nearby, so let's head there and take a look at your feet.” “No way.” Miyagi states resolutely. She seems unwilling to listen to what I have to say. With things as they are, there's no choice. I pull on Miyagi's arm and guide her to the spot where we had takoyaki, finding an empty seat and having her sit. “I’m going to look at your feet, so I’ll have to remove the geta.” I crouch down and touch Miyagi. “No way.” With the short reply, Miyagi, who earlier hadn’t kicked me, tries to now. “I’m removing them, so please cooperate.” “No way.” “Please, listen to me.” I am a fool. Miyagi, with a quiet demeanor, lacking words, seemed like her usual self to me, but that was never the case. She wore a yukata she didn’t choose to wear and donned unfamiliar, new geta. All of these are things she isn't accustomed to, yet she pushed herself without hesitation. Her limited words. The slow pace of walking. The way she clung to my sleeve. Looking back, they all lead to one answer: strap chafing. I was so delighted that Miyagi was matching with me that I overlooked what was obvious. “Miyagi, please, listen to me.” Still crouched, looking up at her, I plead, meeting her eyes. Her frown deepens. Her mouth opens, then closes. After a short while, a soft sigh escapes her, followed by a mumbled voice. “...I’ll take them off myself.” Miyagi removes her geta and ever so lightly nudges my knee with her foot. I catch her foot and examine it closely. Between the big toe and index toe. From the base of those toes upwards a bit. Clearly, it's reddened visibly. “They must have hurt, right?” “Not really.” Miyagi mutters quietly. I forgot that Miyagi is akin to a stray cat. Even when she's feeling unwell, she keeps it concealed and never tells me. Like the time she caught a cold on the day we had plans to see the penguins. Miyagi never shows me her vulnerabilities. I had forgotten the regret I felt for not taking better care of her when I found her with a cold. “Miyagi, I’m sorry.” “There’s no need to apologize. I’m fine.” Visiting the festival together, dressed in yukatas, and even wearing matching geta—those wishes of mine all came true, and I was so pleased with that alone, I failed to properly see Miyagi. —I know better than anyone what Miyagi doesn’t want or struggles with. “I’m truly sorry, Miyagi.” “Stop making that face like something terrible happened.” “Something terrible did happen. I’m really sorry.” “It’s just my feet; it’s nothing to worry about.” Today, I’ve forced Miyagi to walk slower than usual, and made her lie to me because of the pressure I put on her. It’s awful. I missed something I usually should have noticed. “This isn’t good. Let me go buy some sandals or something more comfortable for walking.” I don’t want to leave Miyagi alone in a place like this, but I can’t just ignore this situation. “No need. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” “Liar.” “I swear.” “I’ll go get them, so wait here.” I stand up, thinking about where nearby I might buy something like sandals. Cost doesn't matter. As close and as quickly as possible. A place like that—. “...Are you telling me to stay here by myself?” She tugs at my yukata sleeve. “I’ll be back soon.” “...I’d rather not be left alone in this kind of festive crowd. Forget the sandals... Stay here with me and enjoy the festival, Sendai-san.” Miyagi says this in a voice so small it almost gets drowned out by the festival chaos, pulling on my sleeve again. “...What about the geta?” “I’ll go barefoot.” “You can’t! You won’t make it home barefoot, and it solves nothing.” “Sendai-san, your smartphone.” “Huh?” “Get it out.” Though her voice isn't loud, the strength of her words compels me to bring out my phone. “Use that phone and look up a solution for this situation.” “Got it.” Following her directions, I quickly find a possible solution for strap chafing with the smartphone. “It says to apply a band-aid. I have some, but should I wipe it with a damp handkerchief before applying?” “That means I’d be alone here. Just put it on as is.” “Alright, let’s clean it properly once we get back. Let me see your foot.” As I say this and crouch down, Miyagi obediently offers her foot. I carefully press a band-aid onto the reddened area. “Something similar happened back in high school.” “When you cut your finger with a knife, Miyagi?” No answer. But I know she’s recalling the time I made fried chicken at her place. That day, while slicing cabbage, Miyagi cut her finger, and I bandaged it for her. During that moment, connecting with Miyagi, a part of her mixed into me. And now, there’s even more of Miyagi that’s become a part of me—something inseparable, like the blood that merged. Moving forward, I hope to take in even more of Miyagi into me. “The band-aids you use aren’t cute, Sendai-san.” “If you prefer cute ones, I can get those next time.” The band-aid I put on Miyagi when she cut herself was just something I carried around normally, but now it’s different. I keep band-aids specifically for Miyagi. “This is fine. It suits you, Sendai-san... Is it done?” Both feet, right and left. All the reddened areas are covered with band-aids. I’ve applied several. “Yeah. Try the geta on.” At my words, Miyagi nervously puts on her geta and stands up. “Is it okay? Does it hurt?” When I ask, she responds with, “Lend me your phone, Sendai-san.” “Huh? Why?” “Just give it to me.” As I take my phone out of my bag, it quickly gets snatched from my hand. What is she doing? Before I can voice my question, Miyagi leans in. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but she gives me no chance, lifting the phone towards the sky. Click. A photo captures us in our yukatas. The phone returns to my hand with a snap. “A thank you for the band-aids. Let’s buy some yakisoba and head home.” Miyagi says, speaking so quickly I almost get left behind.