"Ayumi-chan, why did they call you out just now?"
When she returned to her seat, Shouko couldn't hold back her curiosity and asked in a low voice.
Ayumi glanced around, making sure the others weren't paying attention, then leaned closer to whisper the whole story to her.
The advisor by the podium noticed the two girls chatting out of the corner of her eye but chose to ignore them, continuing to focus on her paperwork.
In the north-facing classroom, the faint scent of turpentine mingled with the shadows of plaster statues, while the still-damp acrylic paintings shimmered with a soft, pearly glow in the twilight.
After hearing everything, Shouko gave Ayumi a big thumbs-up, clearly satisfied with how things turned out.
A few words later, the two went back to their own tasks — Shouko continued revising her unfinished illustration, while Ayumi stared blankly at the dozens of circles on her drawing board.
She was starting to slightly regret joining the Art Club. During the sketching phase, she couldn't understand how Shouko-chan and Akira had the patience to go through all this…
Time slipped by as Ayumi's mind wandered, and before she knew it, she was waving goodbye to Shouko after club activities.
"Get in."
Shouko heard him but didn't move. Her gaze lingered on the backpack slung over his shoulders.
"Akira, I don't get it."
"What?" He already had a vague idea of what she was about to say.
"I can understand you bringing your backpack to school in the morning, but why are you still carrying it when you come to pick me up in the afternoon!?"
She didn't say it aloud, but her eyes screamed: Are you doing this on purpose?
Akira sighed. "I didn't go home after school. I went to Futaba Publishing to handle a few things." Fearing she might not believe him, he even pulled out his phone and handed it to her as proof.
Seeing that, Shouko couldn't really argue. She quietly sat in the back seat, wrapping one arm around his waist as the motorbike started moving. With her other hand, she began scrolling through his chat history with Jun-san.
Her arm around his waist unconsciously tightened.
The chat logs matched his story — a few brief messages. Jun-san had indeed called him to Futaba Publishing.
Shouko then opened his contacts list, scanned it, and quickly exited LINE.
Aside from a few old friends she already knew, there really wasn't anyone suspicious. Even the few "Girls" he had added were all familiar faces.
Only one name she didn't recognize — and they hadn't chatted in ages — so there wasn't anything to worry about.
But then, Ayumi's teasing words from earlier that day suddenly echoed in her head:
"Shouko-chan, I heard from someone that boys always have little secrets hidden in their phone browsers. Have you checked Akira's?"
Almost like she was possessed, Shouko tapped on his browser app.
Just as she began to wonder if Akira had any "little secrets" hidden from her, a password screen popped up — making her frown.
Her suspicion instantly grew.
She glanced outside, watching the passing streets in her peripheral vision, and tried to calm herself before entering Akira's birthday.
Password incorrect.
Then she tried her own birthday. His mom's. His dad's. Yuzuru's. Even Hachiko's and her grandma's birthdays.
All wrong.
By the time she stubbornly entered her grandma's birthday again, the page locked itself, showing a one-minute cooldown.
"…."
"Shouko, we're here."
"Ah… o-okay!"
Shouko climbed off the bike, looking dazed. She had spent the entire ride trying about twenty different passwords — all failed.
Still, the clever Shouko didn't say a word. She simply handed him back his phone and helmet with an innocent smile.
If she told him now, Akira would definitely delete whatever secret was in there.
She felt secretly proud of herself for thinking ahead.
Suppressing the grin tugging at her lips, she said a soft "See you tonight," then turned to leave.
"…."
Akira watched her walk away with a puzzled expression, wondering if he had done something wrong again.
After thinking it over, he decided not to stuff his backpack so full tomorrow.
He hadn't even done anything bad, yet somehow, Shouko still managed to be mad at him.
He really couldn't win against her.
By early April, the cherry blossoms in Tokyo still hadn't fully fallen — delicate pinks and whites clung stubbornly to the branches. But by the end of the month, lush green leaves had taken over, and even a light jacket felt too warm under the afternoon sun.
"Teacher Miyamura, the bookstores collaborating with Futaba Publishing will be fully stocking Anohana: The Flower We Saw That Day, the day after tomorrow."
"This also includes book launch promotions and small-scale bookstore events."
"Akira, what's wrong?" Shouko tilted her head curiously when he suddenly stopped eating and looked at his phone.
The other three eating their bento boxes turned to him as well, equally curious.
Akira quickly replied with a "Thank you" to Jun-san, pocketed his phone, and smiled. "It's nothing big. Jun-san just messaged me — our light novel will hit bookstores this Thursday."
"!?"
"!!?"
"This is 'nothing big'!?" Nishikata nearly shouted, drawing attention from nearby students.
The others looked over in confusion, wondering what all the fuss was about, but Nishikata quickly clasped his hands together and mouthed an apology, prompting them to look away again.
Only a few people in class actually knew Akira's physical book was being published. It wasn't that they didn't want to share the news — Akira had just wanted to keep things low-profile.
"Did Jun-san say anything else?"
Unlike Takagi and the others, Shouko — as the illustrator of Anohana — already knew about the release schedule, so she stayed calm on the outside.
Inside, though, she couldn't hide a little flicker of pride. After all, the illustrations in that book were her debut work.
Akira swallowed his food and recalled Jun's message. "Futaba Publishing will post a preview on their social media today. Bookstores will start doing small-scale promotions, and the novel will be displayed in the light novel section of the new releases."
"…"
"Can I ask a question?" Ayumi raised her small hand timidly.
"Sure, go ahead, Ayumi-chan."
"Hmm…" She thought for a moment before asking, "Is this really how a new author and a new book are treated?"
She had looked up some info online before. Normally, new authors never got this kind of attention. Most debut novels were simply placed in a bookstore's "New Releases" section — nothing more.
In Japan's publishing world, unless you were already a well-known writer, publishers and bookstores rarely helped with active promotions.
That's why, to Ayumi, what Akira had achieved already seemed almost unreal.
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